Adrian Anderson's mornings were timed to the minute.
5:30 a.m. — awake.5:45 — gym.7:00 — shower, espresso, headlines.8:00 — black car waiting downstairs.
His penthouse overlooked the city like it owned it, all glass and steel and silence. Everything in it was intentional—neutral colours, sharp lines, no clutter. A home designed not to feel. Adrian preferred it that way. Feeling complicated things. He stood before the mirror, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored shirt, studying his reflection the way investors studied quarterly reports. Late thirties. Impeccable posture. Jaw set with discipline inherited, not chosen. To the world, he was perfection wrapped in restraint—the man magazines loved to label the most eligible bachelor alive.
Adrian exhaled slowly.
Eligible.Available.Desired.
None of it meant anything.
Women had loved him before—or tried to. They praised his attentiveness, his generosity, his calm presence. And then, eventually, their voices changed. Confusion replaced admiration. Hurt crept into their eyes when they realized he never reached for them first. Never burned. Never needed. He remembered one breakup vividly. The way she had asked him, hands shaking, "Is there someone else?"
He had told the truth as safely as he could.
"No."
She had cried anyway.
Adrian slipped on his watch—custom-made, absurdly expensive, cold against his skin. He liked cold things. They didn't ask questions.
Downstairs, the driver greeted him by name. Adrian nodded once and slid into the backseat, phone already in hand as emails flooded his screen. Anderson Holdings was expanding again. Another acquisition. Another victory. Another proof that discipline worked.
The car moved. The city blurred past.
At a red light, Adrian's gaze drifted to his reflection in the tinted glass. For just a second, the mask slipped. Not enough for anyone to notice. Just enough for him to feel it—the ache he carried quietly, the exhaustion of pretending that success filled the hollow places.
His phone buzzed.
Isabelle: Did you sleep at all?
Adrian's lips twitched despite himself. She always knew.
Adrian: Enough.
A lie, but a gentle one.
The light turned green. The car surged forward. Adrian straightened, shoulders squared, the world's expectations settling back into place.
Another day of being exactly who everyone wanted him to be.
And none of who he truly was.