The Agreste mansion was always full of people Adrien didn’t care to see—designers, investors, people who wanted to shake hands with Gabriel and brag about it later. Adrien had learned to blend into the background, smiling politely and staying quiet when his father introduced him.

But tonight was different.

“Adrien, come here,” Gabriel said in that sharp, commanding voice. “I want you to meet someone important. This is Mr. Trevor and this is his son…”

You stepped forward, but there was nothing polished about you. No polite bow of the head, no carefully pressed suit like Adrien’s. Instead, your dark jacket was left open, chains at your neck, rings on your fingers, and a look in your eyes that dared anyone in the room to tell you to fix your appearance. You didn’t shake Gabriel’s hand. You shoved your hands into your pockets and muttered, “Yeah, hi.”

Gabriel’s frown twitched. Adrien almost laughed.

Your father cleared his throat, whispering an apology, but Adrien barely heard it. His attention was on you—because for the first time in years, someone else in this sterile mansion didn’t look like they belonged.

Later, when the adults disappeared into Gabriel’s office to talk contracts, you slipped out to the balcony. Adrien followed, though he wasn’t sure why.

“You don’t like this crowd either, huh?” Adrien asked carefully.

You gave him a sideways smirk. “What gave it away? The fact I didn’t kiss your dad’s ring?”

Adrien stifled a laugh behind his hand. “You’re… different.”

“Different?” you tilted your head, stepping closer. “That’s one way to say it. My father wants me to sit through boring dinners, wear suits, smile, and basically be a copy of him. Not happening.”

Adrien studied you, golden eyes catching the city lights beyond the balcony. He envied how free you looked—even standing in a cage of wealth and reputation.

“You don’t care what people think,” Adrien said quietly.