The morning air was crisp on the top floor of the Glint Tower, the newest high-rise near the CadeTech campus. Inside a glass-walled conference room overlooking the skyline, Richard Cade stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the sun spread its golden hue across the city.
The room smelled faintly of citrus and polish — expensive, controlled. Silent. Just how he liked it.
He glanced at his watch. 10:58 a.m. Right on time.
A knock sounded at the glass door.
Lena stepped in, tablet in hand. "Sir, your 11:00 is here."
"Send her in," Richard said.
He didn't look at Lena — not directly. She'd been nothing but professional since their reunion, but even her silence carried weight. There were moments he caught her stealing glances, as if searching for the boy she once mocked. But he offered nothing. Not yet.
As Lena left, she hesitated briefly before pulling the door shut. Richard could feel her confusion, even if she never spoke it.
The doors opened again.
She walked in — tall, composed, every inch calculated.
"Mr. Cade," she said without preamble. "I expected someone older."
Richard turned slowly to meet the eyes of Celeste Monroe — strikingly beautiful with raven-black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail and eyes that were more steel than sky. Her gray suit hugged her frame like confidence, and her every movement said: I don't follow. I lead.
"And I expected someone harder to impress," he said, voice calm.
She didn't smile. She walked straight to the table and dropped a thin folder. "Let's get the game out in the open, shall we? You've been buying CadeTech stock in silence. You've been discreet — but not invisible. You want me to help control the story before someone else does."
"You're direct. I like that."
"No need for soft landings. My time's expensive, and your goals aren't subtle."
Richard nodded, gesturing for her to sit. She remained standing.
"You're here because you don't blink when the room starts burning," he said. "I don't need cheerleaders. I need silencers and architects."
"And what do I get in return?"
"Equity. Front-row access. Confidential access. And a seat no one will ever offer you again."
She arched a brow. "Big words."
"Backed by bigger moves."
Celeste finally sat. "Alright, Mr. Cade. You've got my attention. But understand this — I'll want a favor. Not today. Not tomorrow. But one day. And when I ask, you won't refuse."
Richard met her gaze. Her calm unnerved most men — but not him. She reminded him of himself: always calculating.
"Is it personal or professional?"
She tilted her head. "That depends on who you become."
And just like that, the game began.
---
Later that day, Richard exited Glint Tower for a scheduled lunch meeting. The city pulsed around him — flashing lights, distant horns, the low hum of something always moving.
He didn't rush. Power didn't sprint.
A digital billboard above a luxury store blinked to life.
Naomi Glackson — glowing, flawless, surrounded by roses and gold fonts. Her latest perfume campaign.
He narrowed his eyes just slightly. She was part of the past. One of the faces in the crowd that once laughed. He doubted she remembered him — but that was fine. Memory wasn't a requirement for karma.
The crowd stirred as Naomi exited a private event nearby. Fans shouted. Security tried to hold them back. A young girl pushed too far, stumbling.
Richard moved without thinking.
The girl collided with Naomi, who staggered as her sunglasses slipped.
Richard caught them mid-air and stepped forward calmly, handing them back.
Naomi turned, flustered. Her eyes landed on him. "Thanks..."
A pause. Her brows pulled together.
"Wait… You're the guy who came with Mark. At our family dinner." Her eyes scanned his face more closely. "I knew I recognized you."
Richard nodded, cool and unbothered. "Guilty."
She gave a soft laugh, lowering her sunglasses. "That dinner was something else. You didn't say much, but you definitely left a mark."
Another pause. Then she added, "I was heading for coffee, actually. Since we've already shared a dinner table, I think I can risk a cup with you."
---
Inside the café, Naomi pulled down her hoodie and sunglasses. Her presence still turned heads.
"So," she said, sipping her latte, "you're calm. Most men try too hard around me."
"I'm not most men."
She raised a brow. "Clearly."
For a moment, they sat in quiet. Richard watched her. He wasn't here for nostalgia — he was here to measure.
Naomi stirred her drink, then smiled. "You know, I usually remember people. Names, faces, energy. But you… you feel like déjà vu."
He said nothing.
"You ever think about the people from back then?"
"Sometimes," Richard replied. "Mostly how far they didn't go."
Naomi laughed. "You've got that rich-man shade. I like it."
Richard leaned back. She's close to figuring it out, he thought. But not yet.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced, sighed, and put it down. "You're not going to tell me who you really are, are you?"
He gave her a slow smile. "Why ruin the mystery?"
---
That evening, in the silence of his penthouse, Richard stood by the glass wall. The city lights below shimmered like stars pretending to matter.
His tablet buzzed.
Celeste's face appeared in a secure video call, framed in evening light.
"Settled in yet?" she asked, wine glass in hand.
"For now."
She studied him through the screen. "You're the kind that's always in control. Even your silence is calculated."
Richard didn't answer. The silence made her smile.
"Just so we're clear — I'm keeping my eyes open. That's not a threat. It's how I operate."
"I expect nothing less."
Sh
e raised her glass. "To allies in plain sight."
He lifted his own drink. "And enemies who think they're invisible."