The summer sun refused to set in New York. It was almost six o'clock when the golden light bathed the Hudson River, dyeing the water with red and orange hues. The stifling heat of the day was slowly easing, and the city seemed to catch its breath after hours of traffic and honking horns.
In his Riverside Hills bedroom, Adrian Foster looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He ran a hand through his dark, slightly messy hair and smiled cheekily.
"Handsome," she said to herself, with the confidence of someone who knew she wasn't lying.
His defined cheekbones and firm jawline stood out in the warm light. His body, honed through years of gym work, spoke for itself: broad shoulders, defined abs, and toned muscles that weren't too grotesque. His tanned, even skin contrasted with the tight, custom-made sports shirt.
At 24, he was in his prime.
He put on some sneakers and went outside. In Riverside Hills, the mansions and towers gleamed immaculately, surrounded by landscaped gardens. Most of his neighbors drove around in luxury cars with suited chauffeurs, or worked out in private gyms with personal trainers.
Adrián, on the other hand, preferred to keep things simple: going for a run with his favorite playlist and the wind hitting his face.
The guard at the entrance raised his hand as he passed by.
"Mr. Foster, out for another run. What discipline," he commented with a smile.
Adrian returned the gesture with a slight nod and continued on his way.
The Hudson River waterfront was bustling with life. Families strolled, elderly people walked with pedigree dogs, tourists stopped to take photos with the Manhattan skyline in the background. Influencers made TikToks by the water, girls in fluorescent leggings posed for Instagram, and a group of teenagers improvised skateboarding tricks.
Adrián turned on his headphones and turned up the volume on his playlist: heavy-bass rap mixed with alternative rock. He set a steady pace, and within minutes, he was running with a steady stride and controlled breathing. The river breeze ruffled his hair and sweat began to trickle down his forehead, but he didn't care. On the contrary, he felt more alive than ever.
While others were constantly focused on cameras, he ran without worrying about his pose. His sweat-soaked body under his T-shirt was proof enough of his discipline.
After almost an hour, he slowed down and walked toward a gourmet supermarket. The air conditioning hit him with an icy blast. He went straight to the freezer and pulled out a vanilla Häagen-Dazs with almonds.
He held it up, looking at it like it was a trophy.
"I'm a billionaire, why not treat myself?" he chuckled.
He paid with his black card, without looking at the price. As he left, he opened the ice cream and took the first spoonful, letting out a satisfied sigh. The cold creaminess mingled with the intense sweetness, and in that instant, he knew there was no bad decision in life that couldn't be fixed with a good ice cream.
"Worth every damn dollar," he muttered, giving her another spoonful.
The walk took him to the entrance of a luxury hotel in Midtown. He finished his ice cream, dumped it in a polished steel bin, and strolled casually inside.
"Good evening, Mr. Foster. Your table is ready," a waitress with her hair tied back and a professional smile greeted him.
Adrian nodded and followed her. The restaurant was packed with businessmen in suits, sequined models, and wealthy tourists looking to impress. In his sports shirt, shorts, and running shoes, he looked like a fish out of water. But his confident demeanor and relaxed way of walking meant that, far from being out of place, he attracted curious glances.
He ordered a Swiss-style meat fondue and a couple of ice-cold Sprites. As the waitress took her order, a group of men in suits looked at him with a mixture of surprise and disdain. Adrian noticed, but didn't think much of it.
He pulled out his phone, checked his Twitch notifications, and burst out laughing. His community was still active, filling the chat even outside of streams.
The fondue arrived sizzling, giving off an irresistible aroma. Adrian dipped a piece of meat into the melted cheese and brought it to his mouth calmly, ignoring the murmur in the room.
For many, eating alone in a fancy restaurant would be depressing. For him, it was pure freedom: no one stealing his best piece of meat, no one telling him what to order, no one with a say in what he did with his time or money.
"Twenty-four years old, a multimillionaire, healthy and free… the world is mine," he said to himself, taking another sip of his Sprite.