2025-01-10 08:19:57
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At the record label
Adam had been confused when his father told him they were going to an important meeting. No details, no explanations—just that same intense look Barry Sullivan always wore when business was involved. The moment they stepped into the massive, state-of-the-art recording studio, Adam’s pulse quickened. This wasn’t just any studio. This was the kind of place where legends were made. Platinum records lined the walls, and portraits of legendary singers gleamed at him as he strode pass. Cleopatra Monroe stood waiting for them, donning in a tailored black dress and round sunglasses.Her sharp eyes locked onto Barry the second he entered. She extended a hand, her red lips curling into a smirk. "Barry Sullivan," she purred, shaking his hand. "You don’t seem to age. What’s your secret?"Barry smirked back. "And you haven’t changed either."She laughed, tossing her hair. "Oh, please. I have amazing beauty doctors."Then her eyes shifted to the boy, studying him like a jeweler examining a
Cleopatra Monroe
Kane Sanchez was at the peak of his musical career. For three consecutive years, he had been the top-charting artist in the world, his face plastered across every magazine cover, his voice booming from speakers in every club. Four of his albums had gone platinum, his tours sold out in minutes, and his influence stretched across continents. He was untouchable—a king in an empire built on talent, ruthlessness, and the right connections. Barry knew better than anyone how cutthroat the entertainment industry truly was. It wasn’t just about talent. Half of the brightest stars burned out before they even got noticedIn the music industry, it was more about power, leverage, and who you knew. Adam had the voice, the charisma, even the drive. But without the right backing, he’d be chewed up and spat out before he even got a foot in the door. Barry could bulldoze his way into boardrooms, crush corporate titans, and dictate market trends, but the music business was an entirely different
A father's support
Barry was on the living room floor, letting his twin daughters climb all over him like giggling little monkeys, when the front door opened. Adam stepped in, shoulders slouched, face shadowed with a heaviness that didn’t belong on a sixteen-year-old.Barry’s fatherly instincts kicked in immediately.“Son, how did it go?” he asked, smiling warmly.Adam forced a grin, too quick, too rehearsed. “It went very well. I had a good time,” he replied in a chipper tone that didn’t match his dull eyes. Before Barry could press further, Adam added, “I’m just a little tired. I’ll be in my room.” And he slipped away up the stairs.Barry’s smile faded. That wasn’t the voice of a boy who’d just met his idol. Something was wrong—deeply wrong.He gently untangled himself from his daughters’ tiny arms. “Daddy will be right back, angels,” he said, kissing their foreheads. Then he stood, his face hardening, and headed for the stairs.Outside Adam’s room, Barry paused. His hand hovered over the doorknob
Never meet your heros
It was Adam’s 16th birthday.Years had slipped by like a breeze, and Barry now found himself with a grown teenage son who was taller, bolder, and carrying the quiet confidence of youth. In those years, life had blossomed in unexpected ways. Veronica had conceived again, this time giving birth to twin girls whose mischievous laughter often filled the Sullivan villa.Adam, however, was nothing like Barry when it came to career ambitions. While Barry had spent his life building empires and conquering boardrooms, Adam showed little interest in the family business. His heart beat to a different path. Music was his passion. Barry would often pass by his son’s room and hear the faint thump of bass or the soft strum of guitar strings as Adam composed his own songs. Whenever Adam wasn’t working on music, he could be found attending concerts, losing himself in the energy of the crowd and the artistry of the performers.This never disappointed Barry. If anything, it made him proud. A fath
Goodbyes
Eleanor’s head jerked back, her jaw dropping open in shock. Her eyes widened, searching his face for any hint of bluff. "That’s a lie," she blurted, shaking her head. "You can’t be Barry Sullivan." Barry didn’t argue. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, metallic ID card, holding it up for her to see. The golden seal of the International Business card gleamed under the hospital lights.His name—Barry Sullivan was emblazoned in bold letters beside his photo. "This is my second visit to Z City,” he said casually, tucking the card away. "I came here on a personal journey… character discovery, if you will. I’d rather not get into the full details."Eleanor’s fingers clenched the bedsheets, her mind racing. "I... I don’t get it. If you were here just for some… self-discovery trip, how does any of this tie to me?"Barry shrugged lightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Fate, I guess. You see, I abandoned my wealth and status to live like a common man. Ran
No more secrets
Barry’s voice was warm as he stepped closer to the bed.“Yes,” he said softly. “I’m here.”Eleanor slowly pushed herself upright. Her movements was hesitant as she began to test her own strength. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the pale walls, the steady beeping of the heart monitor, the faint hiss of oxygen from the machine beside her bed.And then, like a flood breaking a dam, the memories came back—the screech of tires, the blinding headlights, the sickening crunch of metal. Her breathing quickened.“How… how long have I been out?” she asked, her voice trembling.Barry hesitated for only a heartbeat. “A month and… a couple of weeks,” he replied. “The doctors said it was a slim chance you’d survive.”Her brows furrowed. “Then… how did I make it?”He allowed a small, noncommittal smile. “Probably a miracle.”Barry wasn’t about to tell her about the golden cat of good fortune—or its shadowed counterpart, the black cat of misfortune. Not now.Instead, he pulled a chair cl
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