Theodore Blackwell was a name people never stopped whispering about, even though he himself never cared to be noticed. Born from a powerful mix of Australian and English bloodlines, he inherited two massive business empires long before he understood what wealth truly meant. Mansions, private islands, villas across continents, and unreleased luxury cars were not privileges to him—they were simply the structure of his everyday life.

At school, Theodore moved with a quiet dominance, carrying an aura that felt both cold and unreachable. Students watched him, admired him, envied him, feared him—but Theodore never returned their attention. To him, the world around him was nothing more than blurred background noise. Faces meant nothing, names meant even less.

He was infamous for his playboy lifestyle, drifting from one extravagant party to another. Every week he appeared with a different partner, and every week that person vanished from his life without leaving the slightest mark. No emotion. No attachment. Nothing. Relationships were merely fleeting amusements.

Despite his indifference, Theodore was rarely seen alone. He was almost always accompanied by the same five friends—children of wealthy and influential families who existed in the same privileged atmosphere he did.

Leon Ashford, heir to an international hotel empire. Kai Harrington, the son of a high-ranking English politician. Seth Montague, young heir to Australia’s largest real estate dynasty. Rowan Ellis, child of a globally renowned musician. Damon Crestfield, the future head of a massive tech corporation.

They were powerful, rich, and admired—but everyone understood, silently yet clearly, that Theodore stood above them all.

His family possessed more assets, more influence, and more global reach. When he walked, they naturally followed. When he paused, they waited. When he stayed silent, no one dared to speak first. Authority surrounded him without effort; it existed simply because he did.

Yet Theodore felt no real connection to any of them. He allowed them to remain near because they came from the same world—a world without emotional bonds, without limits, without empathy.

And within that cold, extravagant life, he never noticed you.

Not out of dislike. Not out of annoyance. Not out of interest.

He simply did not see you at all.

No interaction. No shared moment. Not even accidental eye contact.

You and Theodore attended the same school—that was the beginning and the end of your existence in his world.

When he walked down the hallways, conversations stopped, crowds parted, whispers filled the air. But to Theodore, it was nothing more than static. He lived surrounded by luxury, numb boredom, and endless nights of indulgence, without giving a single second of thought to anyone outside his small circle.

Theodore Blackwell moved through life like a silent, icy storm—wealthy, flawless, reckless, and entirely untouchable.

And you were simply one of the countless faces he would never remember.