Chapter 1 - Above the city
Chapter 1 — Above the City
New York looked different from the top.
Not louder. Not brighter. Just… distant.
Adrian Mercer stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a half-finished glass of something expensive he didn’t really care about. The city stretched endlessly beneath him—lines of headlights flowing like veins, buildings stacked like quiet ambitions, people reduced to movement.
Up here, nothing felt urgent.
That was the problem.
Behind him, the penthouse hummed with life. Low music. Laughter. The faint clink of glass. A rooftop party spilling into the living space, full of people who belonged exactly where they were—or at least acted like they did.
Adrian didn’t turn around.
He watched the city instead.
“You’re doing that thing again.”
The voice came from behind—smooth, amused.
Adrian took a sip before answering. “What thing?”
Victor Hale stepped beside him, slipping a drink from a passing tray without even looking. He wore confidence like it was tailored—sharp suit, loose posture, the kind of ease that came from never having to worry about consequences.
“Staring like you’re about to buy the city,” Victor said. “Or burn it.”
Adrian smirked faintly. “Depends on the day.”
Victor followed his gaze out the glass. “You ever get bored of this view?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Of everything else?” Victor added.
Adrian didn’t answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Inside, someone turned the music louder. A group near the bar burst into laughter—too loud, too rehearsed. Sofia Laurent was at the center of it, effortlessly commanding attention without trying too hard. She caught Adrian’s reflection in the glass and gave a small wave, half-smile, like she already knew he wouldn’t come over.
She wasn’t wrong.
Victor leaned back against the window. “You’ve got half the city in your living room, and you’re out here acting like a bored landlord.”
Adrian shrugged. “They’re here for the same reason I am.”
“And what’s that?”
“Nothing better to do.”
Victor laughed under his breath. “That’s depressing.”
“It’s accurate.”
The truth was, Adrian understood all of this too well.
The people. The patterns. The way conversations looped. The way attention shifted. The way everyone played a role.
It was predictable.
Always had been.
Even when he was younger—before the penthouse, before the skyline, before the name started carrying weight—he noticed things. How people talked. What they meant versus what they said. What they wanted.
His father had sharpened that instinct.
Not gently.
“Come on,” Victor said, pushing off the glass. “At least pretend you’re hosting.”
Adrian sighed softly, finishing his drink. “I am hosting.”
“You’re observing.”
“Same thing. Just more efficient.”
Victor shook his head. “One day, you’re going to have to actually care about something.”
Adrian set the glass down on a nearby table. “Why?”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “Because that’s how normal people work.”
Adrian’s lips curved slightly. “Good thing I don’t have to be normal.”
They moved back into the room.
Someone handed Adrian another drink. He took it without asking what it was.
Sofia appeared beside him within seconds, like she’d been tracking his movement.
“You disappeared,” she said.
“I was here the whole time.”
“Physically, yes.” She tilted her head. “Mentally? Debatable.”
Adrian glanced at her. “You’re overestimating how interesting this is.”
Sofia smiled. “And you’re underestimating how obvious that makes you.”
He didn’t respond.
She studied him for a second longer, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
And just like that, she moved on—seamless, unbothered. Another conversation. Another laugh.
Everything flowed.
Everything always flowed.
Adrian walked past the crowd toward the hallway, quieter there. The noise dulled, replaced by a soft echo of music and distant voices.
His phone buzzed.
He checked it.
Ethan Mercer.
He considered ignoring it.
Didn’t.
“Yeah?”
“Where are you?” his father’s voice came through—calm, controlled.
“Home.”
“A party?”
Adrian glanced back toward the living room. “Something like that.”
A pause.
“Come to the office tomorrow morning,” Ethan said. “Eight.”
Adrian leaned against the wall. “That early?”
“It’s called working hours.”
“I thought I was still in the ‘optional participation’ phase.”
“You are,” Ethan replied. “This is me suggesting you participate.”
Adrian smiled faintly. “Subtle.”
Another pause.
Then, quieter:
“You won’t always have the luxury of not taking things seriously, Adrian.”
Adrian’s gaze drifted back toward the skyline through the distant glass.
“I know,” he said.
And he did.
That wasn’t the issue.
“Eight,” Ethan repeated.
“Yeah. I heard you.”
The call ended.
Adrian stood there for a moment, phone still in his hand.
He wasn’t annoyed.
He wasn’t pressured.
If anything, it was… familiar.
His father never shouted. Never forced. Never demanded in obvious ways.
He just… expected.
And somehow, that carried more weight than anything else.
Back in the main room, the party continued like nothing had changed.
Because nothing had.
Adrian stepped past it all, ignoring the music, the voices, the movement.
He walked back to the glass.
The city hadn’t changed either.
Still moving. Still alive. Still endless.
He could have anything in it.
That was the point.
There was nothing in this city he couldn’t have.
He looked down at the lights, expression unreadable.
For a brief moment—just a flicker—the thought crossed his mind:
Then why does it all feel the same?
The music swelled behind him.
The city moved below him.
And Adrian Mercer stood exactly where he always did—
Above everything.
And connected to nothing.
