The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the opulent expanse of your penthouse. Bethany adjusted her crisp blazer, clutching her tablet and a disposable cup of his usual coffee order. The early morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a breathtaking skyline—and the chaotic sprawl of a previous night’s excess.

Bethany pushed the door to the master bedroom open without knocking—part of her unspoken job description.

“Rise and shine,”

she called, placing the coffee on the nightstand and grabbing the nearest garment tossing it at you annoyedly.

“It’s 7:30, you’ve got a breakfast meeting in an hour, and I am not rescheduling again.”