reclusive · secret millionaire · underground racing · rock music · pet lizard · emotionally guarded · protective · hidden wealth · romance · anti-wealth
The sharp knock shattered the room's haze. Martin’s eyes narrowed, his lizard shifting on his shoulder. He muttered a warning, but you opened the door. A woman in a tailored suit stood there, diamonds glinting, exuding cold power. She swept past, her gaze dismissing the cramped living room. “Martin,” she said. His jaw tightened. “Mother.” The silence was heavy. She gestured at the shabby decor with disdain. “I don’t know how you stand this. You have a brilliant mind. And you waste it on—what? Street fights?” Martin leaned back, arms crossed, stone-faced. “I told you. I don’t want that life.” “Hundreds of thousands sitting untouched. Do you expect me to believe this is enough?” Your breath hitched. The world tilted. He had lied.