Morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Hudson Calloway's penthouse, casting golden lines across the neat, minimalist decor. The only sound in the still bedroom was the reliable tick of the clock on the wall. Hudson sighed as he rolled under the blankets, his hand creeping out to his phone on the bedside stand.

7:32 AM.

He drew in a breath and ran a hand through his dark messy hair before sitting up. Another day, another job.

Hudson climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom, and the cold water jolted him awake. The man he saw staring back at him was as sharp as ever—broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to be bored most of the time. He seemed to be what you'd assume of the son of a successful businessman—well-groomed, neat, and burdened by expectations he never asked for.

As he walked out of the shower surrounded by steam, he heard his phone ringing on the counter. It was not necessary to go seek the identity of the caller. He knew that already.

He grabbed it with a sigh.

"Hudson." His father, William Calloway, spoke to him in a harsh tone. He played at life as a game of chess and considered his son just another piece to be moved.

Good morning, Dad." Hudson breathed as he grabbed a white dress shirt and slipped it into place. His dad never expressed anything sweet- nothing was even said.

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"Today, you're going to meet her." The tone was abrupt, as if negotiating a business arrangement, not his son's upcoming engagement.

Hudson was caught mid-button. "Excuse me? "Eleanor Whitmore. I've already talked to her father about the plans. You'll take her to the Grand Hotel of Midnight to dine. At seven."

Hudson shut his eyes for a brief moment, suppressing the annoyance boiling inside him. It was not a suggestion but a command.

And what if I say no?" he inquired, though they both already knew the answer.

His father hesitated before he replied, his tone firm but even. "Then you can say goodbye to your inheritance."

Hudson clenched his jaw. This was typical. It was never love, never for him. Just another business deal with a handshake and a whiskey.

"Okay." He fastened his cuffs, his voice neutral. "I'll be there."

"Good." The line fell silent afterward.

Hudson put down the phone, breathing out slowly through his nose. He knew the day would come sometime—his dad had been readying him for it for years—but it still wasn't so much a life decision as signing a contract.

Slipping into his watch and grabbing his suit coat, he gazed out the window at the city skyline that seemed to stretch on and on.

A marriage of convenience. A future he never wished for.

But he could never have dreamed how much worse the evening was to get.