Ezra sat in the enormous empty home in downtown Manhattan. His father owned 10 houses, two apartments and a ranch. The 60 million dollar duplex atop the Pierre Hotel on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan had 14 rooms, 360 degree views of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline, two master bedroom suites, grand corner living room, a large formal dining Room, and an impressive library spanning 42' along Fifth Avenue with its own concierge service, housekeeper and gym. And Ezra sat at the counter in the massive custom kitchen, eating his breakfast alone. His father's funeral had been the week before and everyone who was anyone was there. People he hardly knew. They all gave their sympathies and apologies. Trying to befriend Ezra now. But it was all fake. No one offered him real support or care. Not like her, he thought. His father was right. His money and looks made him unwanted for who he truly was.
His college friend Dimitri had invited him out tonight to go to a club after he finished meeting with his father's attorney to finalize transferring all of the assets to Ezra. He has debated on going but decided it might be good for him to get out.
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"Well, that finalizes everything. All the stocks and shares of the company are now yours. The houses and the other assets. The cars. All settled now. Please let me know if you need anything." The attorney said. And just like that, Ezra was worth over 80 billion dollars.
He walked out and called Dimitri. "Yes. Let's get dinner first." He said and hung up.
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The club was loud and Ezra was already feeling bothered because the door guy gave them some trouble as they walked in. He tried to make them wait with everyone else which Ezra hated. He hated crowds and standing and waiting. It made his anxiety exacerbate to panic inducing levels.
"I'm going to get a drink." He shouted to Dimitri. Dimitri nodded and followed him to the bar. Two women approached them. They were absolutely gorgeous. "Hi, how are you?" One of them said. Ezra held his hand up and told her to go away.
"Ezra, they were hot. Probably models." Dimitri said.
"And only after our money and our dicks. No thanks." Ezra said. They drank their Grey Goose martinis quickly and ordered another.
"Let's dance." Dimitri said.
"Ok." Ezra said, slamming the second drink and following him. Women were all over them. Dimitri grabbed a leggy blonde and began grinding on her from behind. Ezra was groped and latched onto by a pretty and petite brunette. They danced for a song and Ezra excused himself to the restroom. The brunette followed. He washed his hands and exited the men's room to find her waiting for him outside the door. She kissed him and slowly dropped to her knees, unfastening his dress pants. He tried to relax, imagining her, Lily instead of the stranger.
"No. Get up." He said, pulling her to her feet and closing his pants.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"Nothing. I just don't want you touching me." He said.
"Are you gay?" She asked, smoothing her dress.
"No. I'm celibate. I prefer to keep my money and my dignity. You, on the other hand, you might need to learn a little about it." Ezra said, walking away.
"Fuck you. I'm just having a good time. You should learn a little about that." She shouted back.
He knew gold diggers. And ugly people. These types of women. His father had trained him well and he was thankful for it. The years of isolation and what the teachers at boarding school had...did to him. He was able to see through it all. And he hated them touching him. These women. He wanted nothing to do with it. Any of it.
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He turned on the light in the master suite and looked at his phone.
"Sean Conley." He typed in. He had wanted to look up more on the woman but he was afraid to. Not just because of what he might find out but because he wanted to respect her privacy.
The search results turned up several men by that name. Then he saw a picture of one with a woman next to him. He clicked on the pic and zoomed in. It was her. She was blonde then, but it was her. She was so beautiful.
"Sean Conley, CEO of The Donavon Corporation, a technology firm in South Bend, Indiana. With us wife, Billie. Billie is the daughter of famed songwriter Jim Westfield, who wrote one of the most covered and beloved songs of the seventies, "I will be wherever you are."
He smiled at the thought of her being a songwriter's daughter. Of course she is, he thought to himself. Billie. Not Lily. Had he heard her wrong? Perhaps. Or maybe she had secrets, too. Like him. He searched more. Married in.. wow. Married for 15 years. He put in her name.
"Missing woman from South Bend, Indiana..." an article popped up. He read further and looked around the room, thinking for a moment. "If something happens to me, Sean Conley is responsible."
She wasn't missing. She had escaped.