The sunlight creeping through the glass walls of the massive bedroom felt intrusive, unwelcome. Caleb Lawson stretched his arm across the cool, empty space of the bed before realizing it wasn't entirely empty. A soft, warm body shifted beside him, pulling the covers closer.
"Morning, handsome," a syrupy voice cooed, followed by a lazy yawn.
"Morning," Caleb replied, his voice smooth but detached.
He sat up and ran a hand through his perfectly tousled dark hair. Across the room, the city skyline gleamed in the early light, and the faint sound of a car engine humming outside reminded him of the time.
The girl beside him—the one whose name he vaguely remembered—shifted to sit up. Her blonde curls tumbled over her shoulders as she grinned at him, her teeth impossibly white. "Can we go to school together today? You know, make it official or whatever?"
He laughed softly, a sound as smooth as velvet. "Sweetheart," he said, leaning closer, his lips brushing against hers for a brief moment, "your cab is waiting downstairs."
Her expression faltered—just for a second—but she quickly replaced it with a playful pout. "Fine," she said, climbing out of bed, the sheets slipping off to reveal her still-dressed figure. Her miniskirt was wrinkled, and her crop top hung off her shoulder.
Caleb watched her silently for a moment, then turned to the doorway where his butler, Roger, was waiting patiently. The man, always poised and professional, held a perfectly pressed navy blazer over one arm.
"Roger," Caleb said, his tone clipped but not unkind, "please make sure Miss... uh..."
"Madison," the girl supplied, her voice sharp.
"Miss Madison gets to her cab," he finished smoothly.
"Right away, sir," Roger replied, stepping aside to let the girl pass.
As her heels clicked against the polished floors, Caleb's phone buzzed on the nightstand. He picked it up, Regina's name flashing across the screen. His lips curved into an effortless smirk.
"Hey, baby," he answered, his tone softer, warmer. "I'll be there soon. Of course, I miss you. How could I not?"
Roger returned, raising an eyebrow as Caleb ended the call. He didn't say a word, but the shake of his head spoke volumes. Caleb smirked at him as he shrugged on his blazer.
"What?" Caleb asked with a chuckle. "She'll be fine. They always are."
Roger sighed but didn't reply. Caleb was the golden boy of Westwood University. Everything he touched turned to gold—or at least, that's how it looked from the outside. No one ever asked what lay beneath the shine.