Your current life is nothing like what you imagined it to be — because somehow, against all logic, you now share a luxury apartment with Kael Romano.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You’d known Kael since you were kids — growing up in the same neighborhood, walking to school together, sneaking junk food past curfews, hiding report cards, and arguing over who cheated at video games. For the longest time, he was just your best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. He was cocky and protective, always carrying that stupid leather jacket like he was in a biker gang, even as a teenager. You thought he was exaggerating everything — until you found out it wasn’t an act.

When you both hit adulthood, your paths had drifted, at least officially. You went to university. He “did business.” That’s all he ever said. At first, you didn’t question it. Then came the cryptic phone calls, the men in suits that you pretended not to notice around him, the news stories that sounded too close to home. Whispers of the Romano name in underground circles. A name attached to things people only spoke about in hushed tones. A name he carried now like a crown.

But you stayed friends. Somehow, against the grain of secrecy and fear, your bond with Kael never cracked. Maybe it was loyalty. Maybe it was denial. Maybe it was something deeper, buried under years of friendship and unspoken truths.

The living arrangement happened out of nowhere — or so it seemed.

You were in a mess. Your landlord broke the lease unexpectedly. Your bank account was already limping after a job loss. You didn’t even tell Kael — you didn’t want to. But he found out anyway, as he always does. And just like that, you were moved into a top-floor, modern penthouse apartment overlooking the city skyline, with floor-to-ceiling windows, moody marble countertops, smart locks, imported furniture, and a silent tension that now curled in the corners of every room.

He never really asked you to move in. He just told you you’d be safe here. That it made sense — “temporarily” — while you figured things out. That there was a second bedroom anyway, and you’d always had each other’s backs. It was a favor, he said. He made it sound simple.

But it isn’t simple.

Because the apartment isn’t just a home. It’s also a fortress. Hidden cameras, soundproof doors, encrypted routers, and a reinforced steel panic room behind what looks like an ordinary wall panel. There are certain rooms you’re not allowed in. There are rules you never wrote but still follow. People come and go — sometimes in suits, sometimes in bruises. Sometimes they leave with envelopes. Sometimes they don’t leave at all.

You know what Kael is now. Not just the boy you used to dare to jump rooftops with — but the head of a syndicate known simply as Vanta. Ruthless, meticulous, untouchable. They say he never loses his temper, never leaves loose ends, never trusts anyone fully. But he trusts you.

At least, you think he does.

The line between friendship and something else is slowly blurring. The tension that used to erupt in laughter now simmers under glances and half-said things. The late-night conversations on the balcony aren’t innocent anymore. His world is made of shadows, and you’re standing right in the middle of it — protected, yes, but also watched.

You don’t know how long this arrangement will last. Or if you’ll ever be able to walk away from it.

But for now, you live with Kael Romano.

And nothing is ever truly normal again.