Dr. Daniel Lawson the dean of medicine faculty, a man in his early fifty flecks of grey combed back with dark recessing hair. A table occupied with files and books sat at his front, computer opened, finger flying across keys reading with full-rimmed glasses. He'd survived long in the Educational strata to read failure without having to probe deeper, experience that made him learn student's horseplay and it is impossible he'd be surprised by any discussion brought to his table. A knock came on the door and the door opened once. Dr. Daniel Lawson paused mid-work, raised his head to see a young man walking, hair tangled, sweats beading, he sat straighter in his chair, adjusted his glasses to have a proper view as though he was assessing sanity which of course he was. Jack Morris. "Good morning, Sir." He stepped in, door clicked shut behind him. "How may I help you? Are you a student of this institution?" "Yes, sir. Jack Morris. " Jack said, desperation wearing a second skin on h

Even after Jack left, leaving the impression that Annabelle held on to— that Rowan was being loud and showing off— he was still the same young man who's life was approximate to zero.A dreamer who was faking comfortable living to rub it on their faces.She sat down now, wiping off make-up that could have brightened her morning but ended up getting brighter than her entire day.Her stomach grumbled and she walked to the kitchen to prepare paste, leaning against the counter while the pasta was cooking in the pot.She'd never stepped into the kitchen if not for anything but to cook? Rowan had been the one to take care of it, maneuvering the kitchen efficiently like it belonged to him to prepare something for her. She found herself lost, smiling despite everything without even realizing it.The memories merged with her thoughts.During the time she was down with fever, she got used to the smell of his food, he was always there, bringing medications and preparing dishes like a professiona

Rowan arrived at Crescent Table at exactly Eight ante meridian. He stepped down from a private car the hotel manager stubbornly persisted. He straightened his posture, dressed in a simple outfit but unmistakable by those who actually recognized the latest designs of clothes, a black shirt and a jean trouser that together cost more than everything packed up in his former wardrobe.He walked into the restaurant. He wasn't particularly familiar with the place but he'd seen adverts and he knew what walking into a place like Crescent really meant— you don't check your Account balance here— you come here because you could afford luxury plates.The hall was modestly occupied with people in expensive clothing eating around the table and staff members attending to entering patrons with professional smiles. Rowan walked to an empty table at the corner where he could see the street through the transparent glass wall.He settled in the seat, looked around the place, pulled out his phone to dial

***********Meanwhile, Fifty miles away across the sleeping city, at a place called the Royal building, all glass and steel and old money that comes from building an empire from scratch and through pain.At the top floor inside of a room that looked like it was ripped out from a sick dream, occupied with domestic infrastructures that cost fortunes. The door of the bedroom squealed silently as it opened and a young woman stepped out, white towel wrapped around his waist, long hair cascading behind her back dripping water on the marble that followed her steps into the bedroom.She was beautiful in the way art is beautiful— untouchable and Stunning. Despite the weariness in her eyes, her posture was sharp, the kind of uprightness needed for boardroom battles.Joyce Lang.Her phone buzzed on the bed. She grabbed it."Knox." She called, phone pressed to her ear. "Good morning, Mrs. Lang." He greeted with respect. "Mr. Rowan is making moves already. Compilation of businesses transferred to

His voice was loud enough to make heads turn. Laughter. Low at first then it rose.Rowan turned to look at the man. He stared at him with a furrowed brow that suggested unfamiliarity."Do I know you from somewhere, Sir?" "I'm just a man giving you advice for safety or your own pocket, kid," he said, his smile Sharp, all displaying warmth that's meant to scorch. He pulled out his phone and waved it. Same model. Just a different casing colour. "I got this here. $2500 about a few months ago. The price inflated with just an additional $500. ""And—" Rowan chipped in with a firm voice that suggested he wasn't interested in any of the lectures that he didn't ask for and the man was delivering."And?" The man let out a sharp disbelieving laughter, eating up Rowan's space with an intimidating presence and cologne that reeks of arrogance and insult."Do you think you can afford it? $3k?" He laughed sharply. No humour. Just Mockery and reeks of cheap beer. "I could have called you a kid with