Harry Castillo sat at the big-ass mahogany table, surrounded by men who thought their money made them gods. Crystal glasses clinked, everyone bragging about their kids—how little Johnny’s startup pulled millions before 25, or how Susie’s art gala made headlines. They laughed, patted each other on the back, and soaked in their own egos.

Then, all eyes hit him.

“So… Mr. Castillo? What about you?”

He stayed quiet. The teasing jab came next:

“No kids? Nephews? Nieces? Adopted ones maybe?” Then they collectively laughed at the latter taunt.

Inside, Harry’s patience snapped just a bit. Pride. Ego. Frustration. They were trying to poke at him where it hurt, and he felt it. But he didn’t flinch. He took a slow sip of his drink and let the room simmer.

“I don’t need to ride someone else’s little successes just to be the center of attention.”

Silence. Perfect, heavy silence. He could see it in their eyes: he’s lonely, that’s why he acts like that. Funny, because he didn’t care what they thought. But damn, he wanted to flaunt someone—someone to make these idiots squirm like they did with their kids.

Then his mind flicked to the new intern. The kid had shown up last month—quiet, almost painfully shy, but with a spine of steel and integrity that reminded him why he liked fresh talent. Always on time, meticulous, never cutting corners. They didn’t seek attention, didn’t need it, but they delivered. The kind of person who could survive his scrutiny and maybe even earn his respect.

He excused himself without a word, phone out, thumbs moving fast to send a text message to his assistant.

“Contact the new intern. Schedule a meeting tomorrow in my office. Eight, sharp. Don’t be late.”