Chapter 7 Harper
seven
Harper
SIX SECONDS.
My eyes opened in the darkness, the bedroom silhouetted in a dull reflection of city lights and the predawn sky. Navy to cobalt. A monochromatic foreboding of a new day for me to deal with. Any moment now…
Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep be—
I silenced my smartwatch, allowing myself just a few moments longer before I sat up in bed, envious of the blankets I left behind.
5:00 a.m. Wake up.
My foot hit the belt of the treadmill as my watch beeped again.
5:15 a.m. Run.
Rhythmic thumping, one step after another as I switched between channels on the TV embedded into the wall, seeking anything relevant to Lorens Industries.
Finance panels, political noise, nothing worth the effort to remember.
Time to check my emails instead. One hand on the pulse grip, the other scrolling.
I’d missed an email from Dad at eleven last night.
Beep beep beep beep.
6:15 a.m. Shower.
I rested my head against the tile, the cold a stark contrast to the scalding water that cascaded over my body from the rainfall ceiling. Aromatherapy misters scented the bathroom with something new, eucalyptus maybe. I didn’t like it.
6:30 a.m. Breakfast.
Liquid nutrients. The protein shake was as bland in color as it was in flavor, but it was easier than eating. I said goodbye to Celestine, Juliette, and Aurelia, and I was in the private elevator on my way to the garage as my watch beeped.
6:45 a.m. Travel to office.
Matthew already had the car running. I slipped into the back seat, and he took us out of the garage. The lights from the waking city and the rising sun illuminated the apple, protein bar, and wrapped sandwich on the seat beside me, as they always were. I pretended not to see them, as I always did.
“You have a board briefing at eight, then a walkthrough of the labs, lunch with Robert. And this afternoon…”
I zoned out as Matthew recited my schedule. I knew it already. It was always the same.
The city blurred outside the car. So close and yet so far from me.
I should be checking my emails, but I let myself watch the world on the other side of the glass for a little while longer.
When we arrived at the office, Matthew stopped out the front for me to head in first while he took the car to the lot to park.
Lorens Tower was a monument to my father’s ego. Fifty-two stories of tinted glass and unnecessary angles, a building designed to look as intimidating as possible. Black stone pillars framed the entrance with raw surfaces that shimmered like stars.
The bottom levels were accessible to the public.
Revolving doors led into a wide-open space with gleaming black floors and screens that extended the entire height of the three-story lobby where our latest products and promotional videos ran on a silent loop—the only splash of color amid a sea of monochrome.
A huge water feature stood in the center, with timed lights and jet patterns that impressed the many customers who came through the doors each day.
People stepped aside as I crossed the polished marble floors, offering only polite nods of acknowledgement. My presence always seemed to make the room feel colder, quieter. Just like my father.
My key card granted me access to the executive levels, where my office was on the fifty-first floor with the other board members and executive conference rooms. There was only one level above us, and that level only had one office, my father’s, intentionally higher than everyone else.
The view from the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office made the city feel smaller than it was. Quiet. Distant. I watched it while I drank my first coffee of the day. My last moment of peace before the day really began.
7:30 a.m. Perform.
Meetings blurred together, the board watching me with both raised expectations and a preemptive disappointment in my failure, as though I were the future but also a liability. I shadowed my father, always agreeing, always analyzing situations for the answers he wanted to hear.
Beep beep beep beep.
Meeting. Lab tour. Coffee. Paperwork. Coffee. Conference call. Meeting.
Beep beep beep beep.
Lunch was what we called a meeting with food in the room. I wasn’t supposed to eat it, though. I had to pay attention only to matters involving the company and shouldn’t let anything distract me.
Beep beep beep beep.
Coffee. Emails. Reports. Meeting. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee.
Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep beep—
I pressed my forehead against the glass, the slight tilt in the window almost allowing me to see the pavement at the base of the building.
Fifty-one floors. Approximately twelve feet per story. Over six hundred feet total. It equaled roughly six seconds.
Six seconds between me and the pavement.
Quiet.
I pulled myself back from the glass. My father would be annoyed if I didn’t respond to his most recent email within the hour.
8:00 p.m. Home.
Matthew was waiting for me in the car. There was a banana in the back seat this time, a sandwich, and a cupcake in a small box. I moved them aside to place my bag and retrieved my laptop. Traffic was usually slower on the way home, and it allowed me to finish a few more things.
Then we were back, and I was heading up to my penthouse with my laptop in one hand and cupcake in the other. Matthew had looked at me so pitifully once we’d arrived that I took it to appease him. I put it on the counter, along with my bag, and went to check on my girls.
9:30 p.m. Shower.
This one was hotter, the water raining over my skin hot enough to turn it pink. Hot enough that it hurt a little. I stepped out once I felt lightheaded.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Matthew
Eat something.
I sent him back a thumbs-up emoji.
Someone always kept my pantry and fridge stocked, either Matthew or someone he’d instructed, but I had neither the knowledge nor the desire to cook. Instead, I ordered food while Aurelia explored the collar of my shirt.
I forced myself to eat half of it before I gave up, scrapping out the rest and sending Matthew a picture of the empty plate so he wouldn’t worry.
Then I brushed my teeth, settled Aurelia back in her tank, and went to bed right as the final alarm beeped on my wrist.
10:00 p.m. Bed.
I stared at the ceiling—at the reflection of amber and white blurs that blinked out gradually as the city went to sleep. Another day. Another week. Every day the same.
At least there were Fridays. The only time I allowed myself to visit The Veil. It had been thrilling at first. Secrecy. Adrenaline. Fear. Hope.
I’d learned quickly not to set my hopes too high. While Shady’s app did a fair job of forming matches, it was based on human responses to questions. And humans lied.
The first conversation had seemed promising. A taste of what I’d always suspected I’d like. Then we met, and he’d laughed. He couldn’t take me seriously because I was smaller than he’d expected. Because he just “couldn’t take orders from a twink.”
I’d made my matches wear blindfolds after that. It worked, as long as they were obedient and actually wore them. More often than not, they didn’t listen, and I left the moment they saw me.
I liked the control, the feeling of someone trusting me, listening to me, doing what I wanted because they wanted my approval.
It wasn’t just about power—it was permission.
Permission to be seen, to be heard. At the club, I could set the rules and know they’d be followed, and in that, there was a clarity I didn’t get anywhere else.
It made me feel… capable, present, less like a cog in the machine that was Lorens Industries and more like myself, even if only for a few hours.
11:00 p.m.
11:30 p.m.
12:00 p.m.
I tried to sleep. I failed.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Too late to be Matthew, and I’d set my father to have his own tone that bypassed silent mode. When I didn’t see a notification, I opened V—invisible notifications were the default. The silver home page loaded, and a pop-up.
You’ve got a new match:
B
92% preference and interest alignment.
It was only ever the first letter of their name, no photos, no personal information. This was the highest match I’d received, and it piqued my interest.
Alright, B, you have my attention.