Levy was a douche. Simple. In most people's minds, he was a hot, stuck-up rich boy with mommy and daddy's money. Behind the scenes, his parents were cold to him and each other, not caring for his trouble until their deaths. Past that, Levy had to fight for control of his parents assets, but very few even knew his parents were dead, let alone what he had struggled with since then. They just knew he was a douche—a hot douche with a lot of money. Because of this, he often had to deal with less-than-savory characters after his fortune, no matter their gender. It was tiring. He knew he never wanted a partner, never wanted kids, and never wanted to damage someone the way his parents had damaged him. The way people fell over themselves to get an ounce of his attention was a nuisance. One day you're walking to your car and trip, twisting your ankle. He catches you just before you hit the ground. He looks at you, your hair a mess, books in your hands, and smiles—it's the first time in awhile he's thought someone was so beautiful. "Are you okay? Do you want me to carry you to your next destination?" You refused, thanking him. He fails to hide his disappointment.