The golden light of morning filtered through the grand windows of the penthouse, casting long shadows over the sleek, polished surfaces. Caspian sat at the long, marble dining table, his back straight, the weight of his father's presence heavy in the air. Outside, the city stretched out below them—a sprawling empire of towering skyscrapers, each one a reminder of the wealth and power his father, Victor Vale, had built. Every company in view was part of their legacy.
Victor sat across from him, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. His presence was imposing, the sort of man who commanded respect with a single glance. The head of the Vale family, the one who had shaped this empire with his bare hands, now sitting before his son, demanding obedience as always.
The breakfast spread between them was extravagant—croissants, smoked salmon, fresh fruit, and champagne, but Caspian barely touched any of it. His father didn't care for pleasantries, though, and neither did he. The only thing that mattered was the business at hand.
Victor's voice, low and commanding, broke the silence. "Caspian."
Caspian's eyes flickered over to his father, his jaw tightening in anticipation.
"You will be attending the acquisition event this evening," Victor stated, as though it were a mere fact, not a request.
Caspian raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Oh? What a shock. I thought I might skip this one. Perhaps enjoy a quiet evening for once." His voice was thick with sarcasm, the smirk on his lips barely concealing his disdain for the forced glamour of these events.
Victor's expression remained unreadable. "You're required to be there, under no circumstances will you be exempt." His tone was clipped, final. "This is an elite gathering, and as my son, and one day the owner of this company, you will act as expected. No more, no less."
Caspian rolled his eyes, the annoyance clear on his face. He leaned forward slightly, pushing his plate aside. "Yes, Father. I'll put on my best smile and pretend to care about acquisitions and mergers, all while pretending I don't want to be anywhere else. Just like every other event."
Victor's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, his gaze a silent reprimand. Caspian could feel the pressure mounting, the familiar weight of his father's expectations bearing down on him. This wasn't a battle he was going to win. Not now, not ever.
"I will be there," Caspian said finally, his voice laced with reluctant agreement, knowing there was no other option. His father would never let him back out, no matter how much he wanted to.
Victor didn't smile, didn't react in any way. He simply nodded, as if confirming the inevitable. "Good. You'll be ready by seven."
The conversation ended as abruptly as it began. Victor returned to his breakfast, picking up his glass of champagne and taking a slow sip. Caspian, with no appetite left, pushed his chair back and stood, the tension in his chest tightening even further. He couldn't help but feel the constant weight of his father's expectations crushing him—always demanding, always pushing.
As he walked toward the glass walls of the penthouse, Caspian's eyes lingered on the view below. The city was his father's world. A world he was forced to be a part of, whether he wanted to or not.
He'd be there tonight, of course. He'd put on the mask, the charming smile, and say all the right things. It was what was expected of him.
As he gazed out at the city, a thought flickered in his mind: What if there's more to life than just this?
The thought was fleeting, gone almost as soon as it appeared.
Tonight, he'd be at the event. And nothing, least of all his own desires, would change that.
As Caspian stood by the glass wall, the distant hum of the city below seemed to fade away into the background, a dull roar compared to the whirlwind of thoughts churning inside his mind. His eyes stared out into the distance, but his mind had drifted back to that café, that unexpected encounter with her.
The way she'd smiled at him... the way her nervousness had been so palpable, yet so raw and real. For a moment, he had forgotten everything—his duties, his father's expectations, the endless succession of meetings and acquisitions that loomed ahead of him. He had simply been... himself.
But that fleeting moment was just that: fleeting. It was a distraction, nothing more. His father would never allow such distractions. Not for someone destined to carry on the Vale legacy.
A sigh escaped him, the weight of it hanging in the air. He could feel it—this life had become a prison, and he was its unwilling prisoner. Every room he stepped into, every person he met, the constant reminders of what was expected of him... they all chained him to a path that seemed already set in stone. But, in that one moment with her, in the chaotic energy of the café, he had almost felt something. A reminder that there was more to life than the endless cycle of power and control his father had mapped out for him.
He cursed silently, shaking his head as if to banish the thought. He couldn't afford to get distracted. Not now.
With a deliberate motion, Caspian straightened his shoulders, adjusting his tailored suit as if the fabric could somehow remove the unease still lingering in his chest. He turned away from the window, the view of the city no longer holding his attention.
There was work to do. His father's empire awaited him, and his own obligations were pulling him back to the world of cold business dealings. He couldn't afford to be distracted by some girl at a café.
The elevator ride down to the lobby was uneventful, the cool glass doors of the penthouse shutting behind him with a soft whoosh. As he stepped out into the brisk morning air, he made his way to the car waiting at the curb, the sleek black sedan pulling away as it merged into the stream of traffic, heading toward the office.
It was time to go back to work.