Inside the insulated comfort of his bright red Ferrari 488 Spider, a color so bold it almost looked arrogant against the worn city streets, Daniel sat tapping his fingers impatiently against the leather steering wheel.
The air conditioner hummed quietly, keeping the interior at a perfect temperature while outside the world felt heavy and restless beneath the summer sun. At thirty-four, Daniel was exactly the kind of man business magazines loved to praise.
They called him “The Golden Touch of the Restaurant Industry.” He owned forty restaurants across the country, from New York to Miami, and his wealth had grown faster than anyone expected.
He had everything people dream about.
A luxury penthouse overlooking Central Park. A watch collection worth more than some homes. Investors who trusted him and competitors who feared him.
Yet behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses lived a quiet emptiness.
Since losing both of his parents in a plane crash just weeks after graduating from college, Daniel had built his life around one simple rule: never need anyone. He believed money could protect him from pain. If he stayed distant, no one could break his heart again.