The Penthouse
Fifty floors above, Adrian stood with Sophia in the center of the penthouse suite.
Sunlight flooded the space, reflecting off polished marble floors. Eloor–to–ceiling windows wrapped around the entire apartment, offering an unobstructed view of the city skyline.
Sophia turned slowly, taking it all in. “Adrian,” she said softly, “this is… I can’t accept this. This apartment must be worth…”
“It’s an investment,” Adrian said simply. “I’ve followed Stellar Dynamics for years. Your innovation was remarkable. I tried to invest multiple times, but I could never get a share.” Although it was a lie as he only heard about it after meeting her, he said it to put her mind at ease.
Sophia’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Consider this penthouse part of my investment in your future. When Stellar Dynamics rises again…and it will…I want to be part of that success.”
“You really believe that?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I’m counting on it.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. After the bankruptcy, she had lost everyone. Partners and friends disappeared leaving her to her demise. She never thought she would find someone who would trust her again.
He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and placed them in her palm. “These are yours. Marcus will check in periodically, but otherwise, this is your space.”
Sophia’s fingers closed around the keys. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Rebuild your empire,” Adrian said with a slight smile. “That’s all the thanks I need.”
They walked toward the private elevator. Adrian pressed the call button. The elevator chimed.The doors began to slide open.
Adrian glanced up casually, then froze.
Four familiar faces stared back at him from the elevator–Mrs. Stone, his mother–in–law, and her friends. Adrian’s expression darkened almost instantly. Running into them never meant anything good.
“Adrian?” his mother–in–law’s voice came out sharp, cutting through the silence. “What are you doing here?”
In a high–end residence like this—right outside the marital home her future son–in–law had bought. How had someone like him even slipped in here?
“This is a private residential floor. You need access codes, security clearance…” She stopped, a new thought occurring to her. Her expression twisted with disgust. “Did you follow us? Are you spying on us?”
Adrian said nothing. He simply stood there, his silence somehow more unnerving than any response.
The air tightened at once.
“Answer me!” Mrs. Stone’s voice echoed through the hallway. Her hands were shaking now, whether from rage or confusion.” You have no business being here! This floor, isn’t for people like you!”
Sophia shifted uncomfortably beside him, clearly wanting to somehow defuse the situation.
Adrian touched her arm gently, stopping her. Not yet.
Mrs. Stone took another step forward, her voice dropping to something cold and threatening. “If you’re here thinking you can cause problems, thinking you can embarrass Victoria or interfere with her new life, I suggest you turn around and leave. Right now. Before I call security.”
Behind her, Mrs. Anderson, Mrs. Parker, and Mrs. Bennett exchanged uncomfortable glances, clearly uncertain about what was happening but unwilling to contradict Mrs. Stone in front of what they still assumed was an interloper.
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Adrian’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes meeting Mrs. one’s without flinching.
The tension stretched between them like a wire pulled taut, ready snap.
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He walked blindly down the street, not really seeing where he was going. A rock sat near the curb. Vincent kicked it hard, watching it skitter across the pavement.
“Fuck!” The word tore out of him.
He’d promised Victoria. Promised her he’d get the invitation. And now he had nothing. Worse than nothing in fact.A hand touched his shoulder.
Vincent spun around, ready to lash out at whoever was there.
A man in a dark suit stood behind him. He was younger than Vincent expected, maybe early thirties, with a professional bearing that suggested he had money.
“Someone wants to see you,” the man said quietly.
Vincent pulled back. “I don’t know w you.”
“No. But he knows you.” The
gestured to a black car parked at the curb a few meters away. “It will only take a moment.”
Every instinct Vincent had screamed danger. But desperation made people stupid.
And Vincent was very desperate. He followed the man to the car. The rear door opened as they walked towards it.
Inside, a man sat in the leather seat, looking at his phone. He was middle–aged, probably late forties, wearing a suit that Vincent’s trained eye immediately recognized as bespoke. Who ever this is had a lot of money.
His watch was understated but Vincent recognized it. It was a limited edition. And cost a million yuan minimum. The man looked up as Vincent stood uncertainly by the open car door.
“Please, sit.” His voice was cultured, and calm.
Vincent climbed into the car. The door closed behind him with a soft, click.
Up close, the man was even more imposing. Not physically…he wasn’t particularly large…but there was something in his presence that suggested power. Real power, not the fake kind Vincent had been pretending to have.
Vincent found he couldn’t speak. His throat had gone dry.
The man set his phone aside and smiled slightly. “I happened to overhear your… discussion with Manager Idris. The walls in that building are thinner than one would expect.”
Vincent’s stomach dropped.
“I understand you need tickets to Madame Duchamp’s gala,” the man continued. “Two tickets, specifically.”
Vincent managed a nod. “I can provide them.”
Hope surged in Vincent’s chest, so sudden and overwhelming it was almost painful. “You can?”
“I can.” The man’s smile widened slightly. “I have… connections that make such things possible.”
“L…” Vincent’s voice came out hoarse. “I don’t have much money right now, but I can arrange payment, I can…”
The man held up a hand, stopping him. “I’m not interested in money, Mr?”
“Lu” Vincent blinked. “Then what do you
“A favor.” The man’s eyes fixed on Vincent’s face. “Someday, in the future, I will ask you to do something for me. When that
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day comes, you will help me. Immediately, without question, or hesitation.”
Vincent’s mind raced. This was too good. Nobody gave away tickets to Madame Duchamp’s gala for nothing. “What kind of
favor?”
“That will depend on what I need when the time comes.” The man’s tone remained pleasant but something in it made Vincent’s skin prickle. “It might be something simple. It might be something.. more complex. But you will do it. Do we understand each other?”
“What if it’s something I can’t do?”
The pleasant expression didn’t change but the man’s eyes went coll. “Then I will ruin you, Mr. Lu. Completely and utterly. I will make sure you have nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. You will lose everything.”
The threat was delivered in the same calm, cultured voice. Somehow that made it more terrifying.
Vincent swallowed hard. “How do I know you can actually get the tickets?”
The man reached into his jacket and pulled out two envelopes. He opened one, showing Vincent the contents.
Inside was a formal invitation to Madame Duchamp’s gala, complete with platinum ticket and security hologram. The signature at the bottom was unmistakably Madame Duchamp’s.
“These are real,” the man said.
Vincent stared at the invitations like they were made of gold.
“So,” the man said, tucking them back into his jacket. “Do we have an agreement?”
Every rational part of Vincent’s brain screamed at him to walk away. This was dangerous. This man was dangerous. Whatever favor he’d eventually demand would probably destroy Vincent’s life.
But Victoria was waiting. And he needed her to clear off his debt.
“Yes,” Vincent heard himself say. “We have an agreement.”
The man’s smile returned, warmer now. He pulled out the two envelopes and handed them to Vincent. “Excellent. I’m glad we could help each other.”
Vincent took the envelopes with shaking hands. The weight of them felt surreal.
“One more thing,” the man said as Vincent reached for the door handle. “Don’t try to find out who I am or who I work for. When I need you, I’ll contact you. Until then, enjoy the gala.”
Vincent nodded mutely.
“You may go now.”
Vincent climbed out of the car on unsteady legs. The door closed behind him and the car pulled smoothly into traffic, disappearing around the corner within seconds.
Vincent stood on the sidewalk, staring down at the envelopes in his hands.
He’d done it. He actually had the tickets.
Victoria would be thrilled. Vincent tried to ignore the cold dread settling in his stomach.
He’d just sold himself to a complete stranger. Agreed to do an unknown favor at an unknown time for someone whose name he didn’t even know. But he had the tickets.
That’s what mattered. That’s all that mattered. He will handle the problems one stroll at a time.
Vincent tucked the envelopes carefully into his jacket pocket and started walking back toward the parking garage where he’d
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
