The first hints of morning glimmered across the slate rooftops of Westbridge, a quiet but wealthy district on the northern edge of the city. Inside the sprawling Harrington property, the chimneys sent thin threads of smoke into the chilled air while the old brick façade glowed faintly beneath the rising sun. The estate had belonged to the same family for generations, yet its current master, Callum Avery, often felt like a stranger in his own home.
He sat in the corner of his large library, surrounded by shelves lined with rare volumes and antique globes. The room should have felt majestic. Instead it gave him a sense of distance. Years of success in finance had earned him an immense fortune, but each victory seemed to hollow him further. Betrayals from former partners and insincere affections from past companions had convinced him that loyalty faded the moment money was involved. He concluded that trust was nothing more than a fragile illusion.