Lucian Rodsfield owned half the skyline
From the glass wall of his penthouse office, the city stretched outward like a glowing circuit board. Cars moved in thin streams of light. Buildings blinked with corporate ambition. Every tower below carried a piece of his empire finance, technology, logistics, real estate. Entire markets shifted when Lucian Rodsfield decided they should
At thirty-four, he had already become a name spoken in boardrooms with equal parts admiration and fear.
And yet, on the seventy-second floor of Rodsfield Tower, there was only silence.
Lucian loosened the knot of his tie and stared down at the streets of New York. His office was enormous dark walnut floors, marble walls, art pieces worth more than small companies but it felt strangely hollow tonight.
Behind him stood Adrian Vale, his chief financial officer and one of the few people allowed to speak casually around him.
You've been staring out that window for ten minutes," Adrian said, flipping through a tablet. Either the market crashed without telling me, or you're thinking about something else.
Lucian didn't turn.
Does it ever feel pointless? he asked.
Adrian blinked. Pointless?
All of it. Lucian gestured toward the city. Buying things. Winning deals. Acquiring companies. It's just numbers moving from one column to another.
Adrian leaned against the desk.
"Lucian, you're worth twelve billion dollars."
Thirteen.
Right. Thirteen billion dollars, Adrian corrected. "Most people would call that the opposite of pointless."
Lucian finally turned, his expression calm but distant.
Most people aren't me.
Adrian had known Lucian for ten years, and that sentence didn't surprise him. Lucian Rodsfield had always been… different.
Brilliant, precise, emotionally unreachable.
He built systems faster than most people could understand them. He remembered numbers from meetings that happened years ago. Investors called him a genius. Competitors called him dangerous.
Friends?
That category had always been empty.
Adrian cleared his throat.
"You should come out tonight," he said. Marcus is hosting a party. Half the tech world will be there.
Lucian walked to his desk and picked up a glass of untouched whiskey.
I don't like parties
You don't like people
That too
Adrian sighed.
You work eighteen hours a day, Lucian. One of these days the silence in that penthouse is going to start talking back to you.
Lucian smirked faintly
I doubt it
Neither of them noticed the irony.
Two hours later, Lucian's black Aston Martin slid through the rain-slick streets.
He hadn't planned to leave the tower tonight, but something about the emptiness of the penthouse felt heavier than usual.
The city was alive outside. Neon lights shimmered on wet pavement. Music leaked from bars and restaurants. People laughed, argued, lived.
Lucian watched them from behind the tinted glass like a man observing a different species.
Pull over, he told the driver suddenly.
The car stopped near a quiet street café.
Lucian stepped out alone.
The rain had slowed to a soft mist. Streetlights painted the sidewalk in pale gold The café looked ordinary small tables, warm lights, the scent of coffee drifting through the door.
Ordinary was rare in Lucian's life
He stepped inside.
A bell chimed above the door.
There were only three people inside: a barista behind the counter, an elderly man reading a newspaper, and a girl sitting near the window
Lucian almost didn't notice her at first.
Then she laughed.
It wasn't loud, but it carried across the quiet café with a warmth that made him look up.
She had dark hair that fell over her shoulders and eyes that seemed to catch the light from the street outside. A notebook lay open in front of her, filled with sketches.
Lucian found himself staring longer than usual.
The girl looked up.
Their eyes met.
Instead of looking away like most people did when they recognized him, she tilted her head slightly.
"You're blocking the light" she said.
Lucian blinked.
What?
She pointed at the window behind him.
I'm drawing the street view, she said casually. You're standing right in the middle of it.
Lucian stepped aside automatically.
She studied him for a moment.
You look familiar.
"That happens."
She smiled.
Well, mysterious window-blocking stranger, you owe me five seconds of inspiration.
Lucian almost laughed. Almost.
Five seconds?
Yes. Stand there and look interesting.
He didn't move.
For the first time in months Lucian Rodsfield felt something unexpected.
Curiosity.
She sketched quickly for a few seconds, then closed the notebook.
Done, she said.
Lucian glanced at the page.
It was a rough pencil drawing of him standing by the window, the city lights behind him.
The artist had written a name beneath it
Eva Ann.
Lucian looked up
That's you?
She nodded.
Lucian studied her face for a moment
Then he extended his hand
Lucian Rodsfield.
Eva's eyes widened slightly
The billionaire.
That's usually the title people remember.
She leaned back in her chair.
Well, billionaire Lucian Rodsfield, she said, smiling, what are you doing in a tiny café at midnight?
Lucian considered the question.
For a moment, he didn't know the answer.
Then he said quietly,
Looking for something.
Eva tilted her head again.
And did you find it?
Lucian looked at her.
Something about her presence felt strangely familiar.
Comforting, even
Maybe, he said.
Outside, the rain began to fall again.
Neither of them noticed that the elderly man reading the newspaper had left the café ten minutes earlier.
Neither of them noticed that the barista occasionally glanced at Lucian with quiet confusion because from where he stood behind the counter, it looked like Lucian Rodsfield was sitting alone, speaking softly to an empty chair
And smiling.