CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ADRIAN

The quiet of Adrian's office was momentary, peaceful—a rare thing on a day like this. Sunlight pooled across the glossy surface of his desk as the soft whirr of the city beyond the windows became nothing more than background noise. He sat back in his chair, one hand cradling his phone to his ear, the other drumming faintly against the armrest.

Adrian (softly, into the phone):

"Alright… I'm at the office now. I'll call you after the meeting. Don't miss me too much, okay?"

Maxen's laugh was soft and warm, even through the phone. That sound had a way of steadying Adrian's pulse. It reminded him of quieter mornings and unspoken promises.

Adrian (smiling):

"Yes, yes—I miss you too. Already."

The moment was short-lived. The door flew open.

Rachel didn't knock—she never did. Her entrance was a bright jolt of energy that cut through the calm like a streak of lightning. She waltzed in with the confidence of someone who owned the building, phone in hand, grin wide.

Rachel (triumphant):

"Have you seen this?"

Adrian arched an eyebrow, still holding the phone to his ear.

Adrian:

"What now?"

She placed her phone on the desk in front of him like a tabloid bombshell. The headline glared in bold letters: "Roderick and Mysterious Musician: Tension or Chemistry?"

Rachel (teasing):

"They're trending again. I swear, the air between them practically crackles. Look at this photo. It's cinematic."

Adrian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The image did have weight—Roderick's stare, the barely-there smile of the musician—it told a story the internet was eager to write.

Adrian:

"They're professionals. It's probably staged."

Rahel (with a smirk):

"Sure, Boss. You keep telling yourself that. But I know tension when I see it."

He gave her a dry look. It didn't help that part of him agreed. There was something in that picture. Something unsaid. But he buried the thought as quickly as it came.

Adrian:

"Focus, Rachel. We've got a deal to land tonight."

Her grin softened.

Rachel:

"Everything's ready. Proposal is packed, printed, and pristine."

Adrian:

"Good. Go fetch the design file from last night. The revised one. I want to review it one last time before we leave."

She gave him a mock salute and turned on her heel.

The office felt colder once she was gone, the warmth of Maxen's voice already fading. Adrian exhaled slowly and allowed the nerves to settle in his chest like slow-drifting snow.

---

That Evening – Mr. Gavin's Event

The venue shimmered like something out of a dream. The high, vaulted ceilings were draped in soft gold fabric, catching the light from the ornate chandeliers that glittered above. The air carried a faint citrus and cedarwood scent, expensive and inviting. Soft jazz played from a live quartet tucked into a corner, their instruments echoing like velvet across the marble floor.

Adrian stepped inside, posture tall but eyes scanning. The weight of the evening settled over him like a fitted coat—familiar, slightly heavy, but tailored just for him.

Rachel (at his side, whispering):

"You look like you're about to storm the battlefield."

Adrian (quietly):

"It is a battlefield."

The guests moved around them like chess pieces, some mingling in clusters, others standing off to the side with practiced poise. At one end of the room stood representatives from Spotlight Entertainment, their laughter bright and attention-grabbing. On the other, Vision Entertainment's team leaned in close, discussing strategy like generals.

Then, there was Veymar—just Adrian and Rachel, armed with a story and a dream.

Adrian inhaled, the scent of freshly polished wood mixing with the sharp notes of champagne nearby.

He was pulled from his thoughts when a hush fell over the crowd. Mr. Gavin was stepping onto the small platform at the front of the room.

His presence was commanding—more than just wealth or status. There was something old-world about him. Silver at the temples, a tailored charcoal suit, and sharp eyes that missed nothing. He stood with the ease of someone used to being watched, yet untouched by the gaze.

Mr. Gavin (calmly):

"I want to thank you all for being here tonight. When I first imagined this project, I didn't expect it to become something this… ambitious. But here we are."

He paused, letting silence stretch. Not awkward, but powerful.

Mr. Gavin:

"Originally, I wanted to narrow it down to five. But my partner"—he gestured to a man in the crowd who gave a knowing nod—"reminded me that creativity thrives in diversity. The more perspectives I allow into the room, the better chance I have at finding someone who gets it. Someone who understands that this story isn't just a product. It's a part of me."

His voice lowered slightly, reflective.

Mr. Gavin:

"Project Glass was born from my mother's memoir. She wrote about love, loss, war, identity… things most people shy away from. I promised her I'd turn it into something lasting. But I don't want the loudest voice—I want the truest."

That changed the air in the room. What had started as a business pitch now felt like something more personal. Adrian's shoulders straightened.

Mr. Gavin (resuming):

"I've selected ten companies to present tonight. From them, I'll choose three finalists. And from those, one partner."

The first name he called was Spotlight Entertainment. Applause followed.

Mr. Gavin (grinning):

"They brought energy. Spark. A sense of rebellion. I admire that. It's bold. A little messy—but real."

Clips from their pitch played on the large screen behind him. Colorful, fast-paced, an explosion of visuals and emotion.

Next, Vision Entertainment. Theirs was sleek. Sharp. Precision storytelling and futuristic concepts.

Mr. Gavin:

"They think ten years ahead. That's what the world needs more of—visionaries who still know how to listen."

Then he paused—longer this time.

Mr. Gavin (gaze sweeping the crowd):

"And then… there's Veymar Entertainment."

The screen shifted again. A quiet piano played. Soft, candid shots. Real people. Diverse faces. The narration from Adrian's pitch filled the room:

Adrian (voiceover):

"Stories aren't just entertainment. They're survival. They're how we say, 'I was here. I mattered.' At Veymar, we don't just tell stories. We listen first."

Mr. Gavin (softly):

"They brought me into the story. And not just mine—but theirs. And yours. And maybe even hers." (He gestured toward an elderly woman seated at the back of the room, who gave a quiet smile.)

The room was silent, reflective.

Mr. Gavin:

"I see you, Veymar. And I'm listening."

As he stepped off the stage, the applause was scattered—unsure whether to cheer or sit with the moment. Adrian remained still. For the first time all night, he felt… seen.

Rahel leaned in, whispering:

Rahel:

"Elio… I think we hit him where it mattered."

Adrian didn't answer. His chest felt tight—but not from nerves. From something else.

Hope.

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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