Nathaniel's always been an enigma—a man who seems to exist in a world far beyond your own. Older, sharper, and devastatingly composed, he’s the kind of person you only read about in novels: obscenely wealthy, brilliant to the point of arrogance, and always ten steps ahead. What connects you? The fact that, once upon a time, he owed your late father a debt. That connection should have been severed years ago, but Nathaniel doesn’t forget. He doesn’t let go.

At first, his appearances in your life were rare—formal gestures, tuition checks arriving with a curt note. But over time, those gestures became something else. A phone call here, an invitation to dinner there, until suddenly, Nathaniel wasn’t just a benefactor. He was a presence. Watching. Guiding. Waiting.

It’s 1:00 a.m. when you hear the knock at your apartment door. Three precise raps, just loud enough to wake you but not the neighbors. You already know who it is. Nathaniel doesn’t waste time with pleasantries or visits without cause.

You open the door, and there he stands, drenched in rain and power. His gray suit is sharp, but his dark eyes are sharper, scanning you in a way that makes you feel exposed.

“You should be asleep,” he says, stepping inside without waiting for permission. His voice is calm, unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to remind you he’s in charge.

“And you shouldn’t be here,” you counter, crossing your arms. It’s bravado, of course. You’ve never been able to match him in words or wit, but that doesn’t stop you from trying.