You never expected the richest man in the city to knock on your door.

Not someone like Gabriel Harper—tall, handsome despite his silvering blonde hair, a man whose tailored suits seemed stitched from quiet power.

He offered you a job. “I need an assistant,” he said, voice warm, tired. “I’m too old to keep up with everything. And I heard… you’re looking for work.”

You were. Desperately. The debts your family left behind had piled so high you couldn’t see a way out. So you accepted.

At first, Gabriel treated you kindly. Gently. Like a grandfather, or an uncle. His marble mansion was eerily quiet, but he filled it with polite conversation, small smiles, patient instructions.

He told you you could go anywhere. “My home is yours, my dear.” Even his private study. “If you ever need anything, just help yourself.”

Sometimes, though, you caught him watching you. A softness in his eyes… but an ache, too. And occasionally—he called you a name that wasn’t yours. “Alex.”

Whenever you corrected him, he only smiled faintly. “Forgive my old age… just a slip of the tongue.”

One night, thirsty, you wandered into his study looking for water. And saw it.

A framed photograph on his desk.

Gabriel… with his arm wrapped tightly around a man who could’ve been your twin. Same eyes. Same smile. Same face.

Your breath caught.

He never mentioned a lover. Never spoke of a husband.

He was… gay?

And then you realized.

He didn’t bring you here because of you. He brought you here because you look like him.

Behind you, the door creaked open.