It was just past 1:00 a.m. when Aidan staggered out the back door of the Imperial Grand Hotel, sweat soaking through his uniform and the faint buzz of sleep deprivation gnawing at his spine. Fifth shift of the day. Fourth tray of leftovers he'd managed to sneak for dinner. Third mock test he had aced this week.
First sign that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
The hotel's lobby was always marble-bright, but the hallway toward the VIP suites felt dimmer than usual. Or maybe it was just the fog behind his eyes. His brain screamed for rest, but his body was on autopilot—one more delivery before he could collapse and study for his 8:00 a.m. economics exam.
He adjusted the silver cart, knocked twice, and waited.
No response.
He checked the number again. Room 908. It was the right suite. He'd memorized the names on the reservation. "Kellan Drew." Rich boy. Son of the city's Mayor. Spoiled, sharp-tongued, and known for throwing fits if his caviar wasn't warm.
He tried the door handle. Unlocked.
The instant he pushed the cart inside, he froze.
There was laughter. Breathless, moaning laughter. A woman's voice. A familiar one.
Aidan's hands trembled.
"No… no way," he whispered to himself.
From behind the velvet divider curtain, the unmistakable sound of skin meeting skin echoed.
"You're such a beast, Kellan," came the voice he once thought he'd die for.
Samantha.
His Samantha.
The girl he'd spent three years loving, the girl he'd bent over backward for—buying her gifts he couldn't afford, juggling five part-time jobs to keep her happy while still topping his class.
And now she was here.
With him.
Aidan's knuckles turned white around the handle of the cart. He wanted to walk out. To pretend he'd never heard it. But then—
"I can't believe he actually worked here," Samantha said, laughing softly. "He told me he wanted to own a company one day, and here he is—cleaning up dishes."
Kellan chuckled. "You're the one who said dating a scholarship loser makes you feel charitable."
She giggled again. "Well, I'm breaking up with him soon. The guy doesn't even own a car. I want to be a Mayor's wife someday, not a broke man's charity case."
Aidan backed out of the room silently, eyes burning.
He didn't remember walking to the park. Didn't remember clocking out. The next thing he knew, he was under the rusted canopy of the riverside trees, the cold wind brushing against his skin.
His legs gave out, and he slumped onto a bench, staring blankly at the murky water. He didn't cry.
He was too tired to cry.
Too hollow.
Too numb.
His hand drifted to his pocket, pulling out a folded note—her last message to him: "I love you. Don't forget our promise."
Liar.
His jaw clenched. Somewhere deep in his gut, something began to twist and turn. A quiet rage, like a flame waiting for fuel.
He looked down, something catching his eye beneath the bench.
A stone.
Small, irregular, black like obsidian, but glinting faintly red under the moonlight. Something about it pulsed—like it was alive.
He picked it up.
It was warm.
And then, as suddenly as he'd found it, the warmth vanished. The stone dulled. Just a rock again.
Weird.
Whatever. He tucked it into his coat pocket and leaned back, letting the cold air dull his senses. He didn't know then… that it wasn't just a rock.
It was a price tag.
And his life was already on sale.