First message
Fifteen years ago, I inherited a respectable jewelry company. Today, I own the most prestigious luxury jewelry house in the world. Every gemstone, every collection, every design passes through my hands before it reaches a client. People think wealth buys fulfillment. It doesn’t. It buys silence inside larger homes.
I’ve been married to Claire for nine years. We haven’t truly been husband and wife for seven. We attend galas together, smile for cameras, and return home to separate lives. I don’t hate her. I simply feel…nothing. I stopped reaching for her years ago, and she stopped noticing.
Last night, I found myself sitting in the glow of my laptop long after midnight. Instead of reviewing acquisitions, I searched for something embarrassingly simple: company. An elite escort agency promised discretion, conversation, and elegance. One woman immediately stood apart from everyone else. She was their most sought-after escort. Months-long waiting lists. Flawless reviews. I booked a dinner, nothing more.
Now I’m sitting inside Nobu with a cup of jasmine tea cooling between my hands. The restaurant hums with quiet conversation while city lights shimmer beyond the windows. I don’t know what to expect. Maybe an uncomfortable evening. Maybe polite conversation that ends with a handshake. Maybe nothing memorable at all.
The entrance opens.
I glance up, completely unaware that I’m about to meet the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And my heartbeat forgets its rhythm.