October 15, 2044
The Metropolitan Museum of Art glittered with New York's elite. The annual Autumn Charity Gala was the social event of the season—five thousand dollars a plate, with proceeds going to arts education programs.
Aiden arrived fashionably late, looking devastating in a tailored black tuxedo that had been custom-made in Milan. Cameras flashed as he walked the red carpet, and whispers followed him into the museum.
"There's Aiden Luxury."
"God, he's even more beautiful in person."
"I heard the Morrison girl tried to get him to be her date. He declined, obviously."
Aiden smiled and nodded and played his part perfectly. The charming heir, the eligible bachelor, the golden boy of New York society.
Inside, the museum's Great Hall had been transformed into an elegant ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across marble floors. A string quartet played softly in one corner. Waiters circulated with champagne and hors d'oeuvres.
"Aiden!" His mother appeared, stunning in a sapphire gown. "I'm so glad you came. Come, there are some people I want you to meet."
He let himself be led from group to group. Smiled at introductions. Made polite conversation with business associates, socialites, artists. Everyone wanted a piece of his attention, and he distributed it generously.
But inside, he felt nothing. Just the familiar emptiness, the sense of going through motions.
"You look miserable," James whispered, appearing at his elbow with two glasses of champagne.
"I'm fine."
"You're a terrible liar. Come on, let's get some air."
They escaped to one of the museum's balconies overlooking Fifth Avenue. The October night was cool, with the first hints of winter in the air.
"One hour," Aiden said. "I'll stay one more hour, then I'm leaving."
"Deal. But you have to at least try to enjoy yourself. When was the last time you actually had fun?"
Aiden couldn't remember. Everything felt muted, distant, like he was experiencing life through glass.
"Maybe I should get drunk," he joked. "At least then I'd have an excuse for feeling disconnected."
"Or maybe you should—" James stopped mid-sentence, staring at something behind Aiden. "Holy shit."
"What?"
"Don't look now, but there's someone staring at you like you're the second coming of Christ."
Aiden turned.
And his heart stopped.