Chapter 1 ~Greyson's POV~
The sound of the alarm clock instantly made me open my eyes. I stopped the alarm before staring at the impeccable white ceiling for a few moments. Another day, same old routine. I got out of bed, shivering a little as I got out from underneath the warm covers. I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The almost cold water ran over my skin, and I felt like I was starting to wake up. I closed my eyes, letting the water run over my face, and took a deep breath.
My morning routine was the same. Most guys used a 3-in-1 shower gel, but not me. I knew the importance of moisturizing and taking care of my skin. I applied a cleanser, then a face scrub, then a moisturizer. I used a separate shampoo and conditioner for my hair. For me, self-care was something religious. Almost.
It was like a ritual. I had no idea where it originated, maybe from my parents. Every time I finished applying my aftershave, I would stare at my face in the mirror for a few seconds. Light beige skin, always freshly shaved and looking like silk. Dirty blonde hair cut with curtain bangs, always styled and soft-looking—misty blue eyes, always without bags under them.
I don’t know why, but I’ve always had a face that’s more on the pretty boy side despite being a guy. I’ve been called “pretty boy” a thousand times before. I was always slim and fit, although I didn’t have much muscle. I always maintained a neat and polished appearance. I was like a character from a boyband, which made others think I was cocky or pretentious.
A sigh passed my lips. It was just the standards of the life I was living. I had to look perfect all the time, as expected of a son of a wealthy family.
Everyone expected me to meet their expectations, even though I didn’t want to.
While my coffee machine was running, I prepared myself breakfast: a French omelet. I always ate a balanced and nutritious meal: eggs, fruits, and vegetables. I took a seat at the table, with a steaming omelet on a perfect white plate. I was always conscious of what I put in my body. I knew that if I didn’t take good care of my health, my looks and my status would fade away.
That’s just how I was raised.
Wealthy families expected their children to be perfect. They would do anything to ensure their children were in the top tier, even if it meant imposing impossible standards.
After I finished eating, I went into the walk-in closet to choose my outfit for the day. My closet was big and almost organized to a degree of perfection. A bunch of clothes, shirts, trousers, and suits, all neatly hanged and ironed. I picked something simple yet classy; a tight black turtleneck with grey slacks and black Oxfords.
It was a simple outfit that I knew looked good on me. I knew that the tight black turtleneck would show my slim physique, and the grey slacks would highlight the lines of my legs. Perfect.
I added a dark brown leather belt with a golden buckle. The golden buckle gave a sense of luxury without making the outfit feel too flashy.
I looked at myself in the mirror, making sure my hair was in place, and took a glance at my Rolex. I was right on time, as always. I grabbed the documents on my desk, put them in my shoulder bag, and walked out of my apartment.
The elevator doors closed, and I was alone in the mirror-walled compartment. I pressed the button for the lobby, and the elevator started descending steadily. A sigh passed my lips as I leaned against the reflective surface, glancing at my reflection on the other side. The black trench coat felt heavy on my shoulders, much like the responsibilities. That happens when you have wealthy parents with status who sent you off to the best law university.
Now, I work at a prestigious law company - very conservative. It was a constant feeling of pressure, knowing I had to live up to the expectations of my family and our background. But I was fine with it. That’s what I had been raised into. The elevator doors opened with a ding, and I stepped outside, heading to the private parking lot of the building to my silver Porsche.
The car’s engine roared, and I hit the road. I navigated the city with ease, knowing the routes like the back of my hand. I always drove fast but never recklessly; I obeyed all the traffic rules and always parked perfectly. I followed the familiar route to my office building: an enormous building with the law firm’s logo hanging high on the wall. Gold&Silver Law.
I parked my car in my private spot, just like all the other well-off employees. I got out, making sure I looked perfect before I walked to the elevator.
It was a busy day from the looks of it. On my way to the elevator, I could hear everyone talking. They were all dressed from head to toe, all immaculate, while their conversations revolved around important cases and acidic gossiping. As I boarded the elevator, I caught some whispers and curious looks. I knew the gossiping would start as soon as they thought I was out of earshot.
It wasn’t something unusual. They would gossip about everyone, even their closest friends if I could call them friends. The term wasn’t appropriate for what they were doing to each other - painting each other with a dirty brush, even so far as to do each other’s wives behind their backs.
It was a world of competition and manipulation, and it came just naturally to them. Most of the people I saw around me had been raised in the same kind of world: wealthy, ambitious, and cutthroat. The elevator finally reached the floor where my office was, and the sound of quiet buzzings and hushed conversations welcomed me. I took a deep breath, adjusting my expression to the practiced, cool demeanor.
My secretary - a young woman named Sarah - was already waiting for me at the desk outside my office. She stood up as she saw me, a perfect smile plastered on her face. “Good morning, sir!” she greeted with an overly sweet voice. “I’ve prepared your mail and agenda for the day, it’s all on your desk.”
She was dressed like everyone - quintessential. A light blue costume with a pencil skirt and black pumps. She wore her blonde hair in a perfectly high ponytail that swayed with each step.
“Thank you, Sarah,” I replied courteously, not stopping as I walked past her and into my office. The door closed behind me, cutting off the buzz of the outside world.
As I entered my office, I was greeted by the sight of my desk, where a stack of documents was already neatly arranged on one side. I took off my coat, hung it on the back of my chair, and sat down on it, feeling the smooth leather under me. I took a glance at the stack of documents, mentally going over the cases I had to work on that day. There were a few important clients and cases, one that included an embezzlement case.
Just as I opened the file, the door to my office opened, and Jackson stepped inside. He never bothered to knock, entering my office like he owned it. We were colleagues at the university.
I tried to keep any annoyance from showing on my face, but it was hard. I was never a fan of his arrogance. “Good morning, Jackson,” I greeted him, though my tone didn’t exactly match my words.
We were alike, and at the same time, opposites. He was much taller than me, with a more muscular physique and a loud mouth. We were all arrogant here, but he had a habit of showing that aspect like it was a badge of honor. He was dressed in a navy blue suit with a golden tie and black dress shoes. His light brown hair was slicked back, and the pearly white grin intensified my headache.
He sauntered over to my desk, ignoring the seat in front of it, and instead sat on the edge of my desk. “Rough night, eh?” he asked, his gaze traveling over my face and body.
“Could’ve been worse,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral as I returned my attention to the file on my desk. Jackson chuckled, a sly grin on his face as he leaned back.
“Always working. You could have come with me and the others to that club it just opened.”
“A bit too noisy and crowded for my taste,” I replied, flipping through some pages in the file. It was the typical club for snobs. Fancy casino games, expensive drinks, and gossiping. Jackson shrugged - the sly grin still on his lips.
“You’re missing out. The ladies there were smoking hot,” he said, chuckling like he was sharing some kind of inside joke.
“I’m perfectly content with my own company,” I replied without looking up from my file, trying to give the impression I was too preoccupied to pay him any attention. “And stop talking about women like they are pieces of meat. It makes you look uneducated.”
He didn’t seem fazed by my words. He leaned closer, still grinning. “Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude. Live a little. What do you do for fun, anyway? Read books?”
“Yes, I read books.”
Jackson guffawed as if I had just said the most hilarious thing he ever heard. “Books. Really. You’re living up to your perfect boy reputation, huh? Come on. We aren’t in college anymore. You’re a man now.”
I took a deep breath, trying to quell the irritation rising within me. “Being a man has nothing to do with going to clubs and drinking until you can’t see straight. It’s about being responsible and making good decisions, not acting like a teenage kid with an open credit card.”
Jackson snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Still hooked up on Ophelia?”
I tensed up involuntarily. “What about her?” I asked, my tone colder than I intended.
His smirk was victorious as if he had just scored a point. “You still can’t get over her, hm? Ever since she broke up with you, you’ve been awfully cold-faced.”
“Enough. I don’t want to hear her name again.”
Jackson raised his hands in a defensive gesture, but his face was still full of amusement. “Relax, man. It’s not like I’m mocking you. I just can’t believe you still mope over her after what she did.”
I swallowed hard and clenched my jaw. Ophelia was my ex-girlfriend. We’ve been together for the entire time in college, only for her to break everything one day before graduation. And not even one month later, she married off. The reason for breaking up with me? She said she doesn’t feel like a woman next to me. I am not man enough. Not masculine enough.
Jackson seemed to notice my expression hardening, his smirk fading a little. “Hey, hey, I’m just trying to help you, mate. You gotta get over her. It’s been two years. Almost.”
I took a slow breath, trying to compose myself. “I don’t need your help, Jackson. And I’m perfectly fine.”
“Sure, you’re fine,” he drawled sarcastically. “You’re perfectly fine, all cold and uptight and alone. Totally fine, without a woman by your side.”
I was starting to get fed up with his jabs, but I forced myself to stay calm. “My life, my choices. It’s none of your business, Jackson.”
He stood up from my desk and walked towards the door. “Just saying, if you’re too stuck up for the ladies, my door is always open. Your secretary is quite the looker.” With those words, he left, leaving me in the suffocating silence.
He wasn’t my friend. Jackson was more of an acquaintance. Someone I tolerated. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t obnoxious and condescending. I took another deep breath, trying to push away his words. I had work to do, and I didn’t have time to let him get under my skin. File after file. Case after case. I didn’t do everything robotically.
Hours ticked by, and I kept working, trying my best to ignore the thoughts that kept trying to creep into my mind. Thoughts about Ophelia. I used to love her, but now, just the mental picture of her luscious black hair and dark brown eyes made me want to vomit. To think I used to melt each time I gazed into her eyes. I even bought a ring to propose to her for the graduation day, only for her to destroy everything.
Her words still rang in my ears, even after two years. “You’re not a man, Greyson. You’re a pretty boy. I don’t feel like a woman next to you. You’re like a porcelain doll.” Those words shattered my heart to pieces.
I didn’t even feel bad for throwing the 20,000$ ring into the ocean. It was a symbolic gesture, throwing away everything that had to do with her. I didn’t know why it had hurt me so deeply. Was it her indifference or the fact that I was deemed not ‘masculine’ enough? Whatever the reason, it had left a bitter taste. Or the morbid aspect of her marrying off right one month later. Logically, that meant she already had a backup plan during our relationship.
The fact that she had married so quickly after breaking up with me rubbed even more salt into the wound. It felt like everything we had shared, everything I’d given her had been meaningless. And the fact that she had a backup plan all along... made me feel like a complete fool.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to concentrate on the work.
Focus. Work. Don’t think about her.
Don’t think about her.
Don’t think about her...
