The sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding the edges of the furniture in soft gold. I blinked against it, pulling the comforter tighter around my body as if that could push away the gnawing weight in my chest. This should've felt like a dream come true. The plush sheets, the skyscraper view, the phone glinting on my nightstand—bought for me by a man who said I was his.
But all I could think about was the way Mom's voice had iced over when I told her.
I sighed and pushed myself out of bed. The marble floor sent a chill up my spine as I padded barefoot into the kitchen. Everything about this apartment was warm, curated, luxurious—and yet the emptiness rang louder than the soft hum of the refrigerator. I pulled my phone out and ordered breakfast from a trendy little café downtown. Avocado toast. Chia pudding. A cold brew I probably wouldn't drink.
I still needed to do groceries. This place didn't even have a bottle of ketchup.
Just as I was scrolling through a reel of absurdly perfect couples, a call buzzed in from an unknown number. I hesitated, then answered.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Star. It's Jase. I hope you still remember me." Her voice was light, casual, like we'd been friends for years. "Anyway, congrats! I saw the pictures—you bought an apartment? How cute! We should celebrate."
"That sounds nice," I said carefully. "But I'm not really in the mood for clubbing."
"Why not?" she asked, all curiosity and a tinge of disappointment.
"Long story," I said, skimming past it. "I've got a lot on my plate."
"Well, maybe a house party then? Or lunch at least—something chill. You deserve to celebrate, girl."
"That could work. I'll check in with Zoey and Tyler. Maybe something small."
"Perfect. Text me the details. Bye!"
The call ended just as my breakfast arrived. I thanked the delivery guy and sat by the window, picking at my toast while the city breathed below me. I didn't know how to explain the ache sitting behind my ribs. Maybe if Mom had reacted differently. Maybe if she smiled, just once, and said, I'm proud of you, Star. Maybe then I'd feel like I wasn't buying my life from someone else's pocket.
I showered, dressed in something understated but expensive-looking, and headed to the store. Shopping for groceries in heels felt ridiculous, but I did it anyway—maybe as a way to ground myself in something normal. I bought basics. Fruit, eggs, some candles I didn't need but liked. On the way back, I got a message from Zoey.
ZOEY: "Lunch at that spot near Eastwood Mall. 2PM. You coming?"
ME: "I'll be there."
By the time I arrived, they were already seated. Tyler waved me over from a corner booth. Zoey looked radiant, legs crossed, sipping on something pink. And next to them sat Jase, her hair up in a messy bun, grinning like we were old friends again.
"Look who finally decided to show up!" Zoey teased, patting the seat beside her. "Fashionably late, I see."
"I had to restock my kitchen," I said, sliding in. "Turns out, luxury doesn't come with ketchup."
They laughed. The waiter came by, took our orders, and then the chatter started—memories from high school, Tyler's horror date stories, Zoey's office gossip. It felt almost normal. Almost.
Then Zoey turned toward me with a sly smile. "So… Star. Tell them how you met this mystery man of yours."
I stiffened. "It's not that exciting."
"Girl, don't lie. It's very exciting," she said, sipping her drink. "She met this guy, and now she's living in a high-rise with a skyline view."
Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Damn. Who is this dude, Elon Musk's cousin?"
Jase leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "What's his name?"
I hesitated, then said it quietly. "Denzel."
"Denzel… what?" she pushed.
"Denzel Wilson."
Jase blinked. Then something shifted in her expression. "Wait. Wilson? As in Wilson Corp?"
Tyler frowned. "What's Wilson Corp?"
"It's a giant tech conglomerate," Jase answered, not taking her eyes off me. "And Denzel Wilson is the CEO."
Tyler and Zoey fell quiet. I could feel their surprise hanging in the air. Zoey already knew, but Tyler's mouth parted in shock. "Hold up. You're dating a CEO?"
I nodded slowly. "It wasn't a big deal at first. He was just… him."
Jase scoffed. "You sure you know who 'him' really is?"
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged, leaning back. "I've heard things. About Denzel Wilson. He changes women like outfits. Drops them the second they get attached. He hides behind tailored suits and press releases, but underneath? That man is cold. Dangerous. The kind of rich that thinks emotions are liabilities."
The table fell silent.
I stared at her, something hot and defensive rising in my throat. "Maybe he's changed."
"People like him don't change," she said flatly. "They just get better at hiding."
I looked away, forcing a calm I didn't feel. "You sound jealous."
Jase raised an eyebrow. "Jealous of what? A penthouse and a man who controls everything? Nah. I'm just concerned."
Zoey jumped in then, quickly steering the conversation toward lighter things, but the tension never really left. When lunch ended, we said our goodbyes. I hugged Zoey a little tighter, grateful she hadn't joined in.
Later that evening, as the city melted into amber outside my windows, I stood barefoot in the living room, the lights dimmed, a glass of wine untouched on the counter. My phone buzzed.
DENZEL: "Be downstairs in 10."
No explanation. No follow-up.
But I obeyed.
He was waiting outside in his sleek black car, dressed like a storm—dark suit, darker eyes. I climbed in silently, and he glanced at me only once before driving off.
"I saw your little lunch," he said after a few minutes, voice even but tight. "Your new friend talks too much."
My stomach dipped. "You had someone watching me?"
"I always do."
I didn't reply. The air between us was loaded, electric, and far from safe.
He parked in front of a private suite at a rooftop lounge, ushered me inside. It was empty except for candles, jazz, and the sound of wind brushing against glass.
"You're mine, Star," he said, taking my face in his hands. "Don't let outsiders make you forget that."
I searched his gaze for softness, for reassurance—but found only steel.
Still, I nodded. "I haven't forgotten."
He kissed me then—hard, possessive, like a signature scrawled across my skin. And when he pulled away, he smiled like he'd won something.
And maybe he had.
Because I was still there.
Wrapped in his world of silk and shadows, tethered by chains no one could see.
And yet, I wasn't ready to let go.