Seven years. Seven years of waiting for this moment.
I wake to our names echoing through Olandria's morning broadcasts. Theodore's name and mine still trending across every news platform. Our faces popping up in endless rotation, dating history being dissected by entertainment reporters, even our college friendship being analyzed by relationship experts.
Perfect.
My maid appears with coffee. Colombian. Black. The way I've taken it since college. Since him.
"Will you be needing breakfast, sir?"
"No." I wave her away. "Just the coffee."
The porcelain cup warms my palms as I settle into my chair. Theodore's image fills the screen again. That moment when he realized the cage was locked. Beautiful.
My mind drifts back. It always comes back to Calloways.
Time to remember how we got here.
Eight years ago. Calloways University library. Third floor, Economics section.
I heard his laughter first.
The sound cut through the academic silence like music. Rich. Genuine. Completely inappropriate for the sterile environment. Other students looked up with irritation, but I felt something else entirely.
Then I saw him.
God, he was beautiful. Still is.
Lean frame folded into a study chair, phone pressed to his ear. Dark hair falling across his forehead as he whispered into the device. Those blue eyes bright with whatever conversation held his attention.
The librarian appeared like a disapproving ghost. "Shhh!"
He looked up, startled. Cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. "Sorry, sorry."
Gathered his things in a rush of apology and movement. Gone before I could process what had just happened to my chest.
I sat there staring at the empty chair. Heart racing. Pulse hammering in ways I didn't understand.
I've been told I'm cold-hearted. I've never battled that assessment. It's accurate. I hate everyone and everything with equal indifference.
But this one guy. I liked this one guy.
His laughter. Those dimpled cheeks. Something had shifted in my chest when he looked up.
Through my life, I've found people inefficient. Waste of space and oxygen. They serve two purposes: teach me something useful or serve me something I need. The rest are meant to be ignored. Background noise in my carefully controlled existence.
This guy provided neither. Yet I wanted to be around him. To know him.
The contradiction was unsettling.
I spent the next hour asking everyone in the library about him. Detailed descriptions. Physical characteristics. The sound of his laugh.
Nothing. None of these useless humans knew the boy who embodied qualities that sent fire through my body.
Fucking useless people.
I made it my mission to find him. The boy who made my heart skip needed to be located and studied.
I returned to the library daily. Every afternoon. Every evening. Searching.
Days became weeks. He'd vanished like smoke. Like he'd never existed at all.
But I knew he was real. The memory of his laughter played on repeat in my head during Economics lectures. During family dinners. During the mindless social events my status required.
I'd never wanted anything this badly before.
Then I saw the flyer.
Campus theater production. "Romeo and Juliet" with a modern twist. The cast photos were small, grainy, but something caught my eye. Someone.
Him.
I didn't care about the production. Didn't care about Shakespeare or modern interpretations. I only knew he was part of it.
Research revealed his name: Theodore Virelli. Theater major. Performance scheduled for Friday evening, school auditorium.
I bought a ticket immediately.
The auditorium was packed with students and faculty. I sat in the back, watching the stage like a predator studying prey.
When Theodore appeared, the world narrowed to a single point of focus.
He was luminous up there. Born to be watched. Like light made flesh and given voice.
Every line delivered with perfect emotional resonance. Every movement calculated for maximum impact. He commanded attention without effort, pulling every eye in the room toward him like gravity.
I'd never seen anyone control a space like that.
When the curtain fell, I moved immediately. Backstage access was easy when your family name opened doors.
Theodore stood by the costume rack, still glowing with performance adrenaline. Sweat gleaming on his forehead. Eyes bright with satisfaction.
"You were incredible up there." The words came out steadier than I felt. "I'm Valentinius. Economics major."
He turned that smile on me. Full wattage. Genuine warmth.
"I'm Theodore. Thanks for coming."
He had no idea what he'd just done to me.
Weeks passed. I orchestrated casual encounters around campus. Coffee shops. Library study sessions. Walking routes between classes.
Theodore was easy to befriend. Open. Trusting. He shared problems and dreams with the same generous spirit he brought to the stage.
I told myself it was friendship. I was expert at lying to myself.
He confided everything. His insecurities about his talent. His fears about the future. His family's financial struggles. The way he bit his lip when concentrating on particularly difficult concepts.
I memorized it all.
Became his confidant. His protector. The person he turned to when the world felt overwhelming.
I built my entire schedule around him. He was my sun, and I was a planet locked in orbit.
The moment I realized I was in love happened during a late-night study session. Economics midterm preparation that stretched past midnight. Theodore had fallen asleep over his Film Studies textbook, head pillowed on his arms.
Watching him sleep, I knew I was lost.
Completely. Irrevocably. Lost.
He treated me like the brother I never wanted to be.
Celeste complicated everything.
She'd been a family friend since high school. Our parents kept suggesting we'd be "something more" someday. Destiny written in country club conversations and charity gala seating arrangements.
I kept her at arm's length deliberately. Made it clear I wasn't interested.
But Celeste was persistent. I think she enrolled at Calloways specifically to follow me around. Constantly tagging along, making jokes about being my boyfriend that weren't really jokes.
"I don't like you," I told her repeatedly. "I barely tolerate you."
She was a leech that wouldn't let go.
Then Theodore asked the question that destroyed everything.
We were walking between classes when he stopped suddenly. "Are you dating Celeste?"
"No." The answer came quickly. "Why?"
I assumed he was asking about my availability. Maybe he'd finally noticed the way I looked at him. Maybe—
"I think I like her, Valent. I really like her."
The words hit like bullets. Each one tearing through everything I'd built.
She was everything I wasn't. Feminine. Elegant. Safe. She made him reject me without him even knowing what he was rejecting.
That's why I hate feelings. I wasn't supposed to feel hurt. Men like me get everything. Except the beating heart of the only human who makes my heart beat.
I smiled and congratulated him while my world collapsed.
I allowed them to go on a date. Strategic calculation disguised as friendship support.
I knew Celeste wouldn't go for boys like Theodore. She was obsessed with me. Had been since high school. The plan was simple: she'd gently turn him down, he'd come back heartbroken, and I'd console him.
Tell him he belonged to me. That I'd never hurt him.
But Celeste surprised me. She fell for him too.
Who could blame her? The man is adorable and lovable and everything pure in this world.
But he was supposed to be mine. Not hers. Not anyone's.
I had two choices: lose him to that bitch or take her away from him.
If I can't have him, she can't either.
The decision was simple. Cold. Effective.
I began courting Celeste seriously. Wealth and family connections deployed like weapons. Expensive dinners. Theater tickets. The kind of attention she'd been craving since we were sixteen.
Of course she tossed Theodore aside like last week's trash.
Which proved me right. She wasn't right for him. I was and always had been the right one.
Theodore was confused. Hurt. Angry at both of us for the betrayal he couldn't quite articulate.
I watched him pull away, and it killed me. But it was the only way.
He wasn't supposed to be hers. He was supposed to be mine.
I planned to break up with Celeste after a few weeks. Let her down gently. Return to Theodore and rebuild what I'd damaged.
But Celeste was smarter than I'd given her credit for.
The night I intended to end things, she got me drunk. Whiskey and wine and something that made the room spin. I woke up naked in her bed with no memory of how I'd gotten there.
I broke things off immediately. Disgust and self-loathing making my voice harsh.
"This was a mistake. We're done."
Three weeks later, she appeared at my apartment with tears and pregnancy tests.
"I'm pregnant, Valent. It's yours."
I felt nothing. Not joy, not fear. Just cold calculation.
She wasn't aborting it. Wasn't going to be a single mother. When the news reached Pierre, he made his position clear: engagement within a week, marriage within a month.
Everything for the precious heir.
The worst part was Theodore's hatred. He hated me for stealing Celeste. Hated her for choosing money over love. Hated the situation that destroyed our friendship.
I hated him for choosing to like her in the first place. For making me date her, which led to fucking her, which led to pregnancy and marriage and this whole nonsense arrangement.
For a baby that was supposed to change everything.
The miscarriage happened three months after the wedding.
The whole point of this marriage ended with a medical emergency and theatrical grief.
I was secretly relieved but growing suspicious. Something was wrong with Celeste's performance. Her grief felt rehearsed, not genuine.
Even someone as cold-hearted as me could recognize the difference.
The signs had been there during the pregnancy. No morning sickness. No weight gain. No one allowed to touch her stomach. Not even me.
When I found the fake baby bump buried in her closet, everything clicked into place.
The private investigator confirmed what I already knew. No hospital records. No doctor visits. No pregnancy at all.
Fake sonograms. Fake symptoms. Fake miscarriage.
The bitch had trapped me with elaborate lies.
I could have exposed her. Destroyed her. Ended the farce immediately.
Or I could use this.
She'd given me the perfect weapon. I just had to wait for the right moment.
Seven years of strategic distance followed. I used the "grief" as excuse for separate bedrooms. Separate lives. Letting her think she'd broken me.
Let her believe her power was absolute.
Meanwhile, I built my business empire. Every success was a tool. Every connection was a weapon. Everything designed for the moment when I could finally claim what was mine.
I monitored Theodore's life systematically. Cameras in strategic locations. Financial tracking. Career manipulation through shell companies and influence networks.
I knew every audition. Every relationship. Every failure.
Patience is a virtue. Revenge is an art.
When Theodore and Celeste began their affair, I practically arranged it. Subtle manipulations. Convenient business trips. Creating opportunities for loneliness and temptation.
I knew about their affair before they did.
At first, I was pissed. Still am. But it was also my gateway to freedom.
Pierre would have forced me to stay married even after discovering Celeste's lies. "A man stands by his word," he would have said. That's how he stayed married and fathered three bastard sons while maintaining his commitment.
With evidence of Celeste's affair, it looks like she left me, not the other way around. If I'd left that window open, Pierre would have forced Celeste back into my life or brought another woman of his choosing.
That's why yesterday's press conference was essential. Cement the narrative publicly. Make Theodore complicit in the story.
Pierre can't do anything now without looking homophobic, and perception controls money flow. He'd be foolish to mess with public opinion.
I finish my coffee and return to the present. Theodore's face fills the screen again, beautiful and terrified.
Every choice led to this moment. Every sacrifice was worth it.
I'm not the lovesick boy who fell for his best friend anymore. That version of me was weak. Naive. Believed in things like mutual affection and honest communication.
College Valentinius would be horrified at what I've become.
But college Valentinius never got what he wanted.
I do.
The boy who fell in love with his best friend is gone. What's left is so much more dangerous.
Phase One was getting him. Phase Two is keeping him.
I have wedding planning to oversee. Media management to coordinate. Theodore's continued conditioning to supervise.
The morning light catches the television screen, turning Theodore's image into a ghost of reflected light. Even in broadcast, he belongs to me.
I've waited eight years for this.
The hunt is over. The prey is caught.
And I am so very, very satisfied.