The penthouse stood like a citadel in the sky—steel, glass, and silence wrapped in opulence. Three hundred feet above the city, the world below was a blur of lights and movement, too distant to touch him. Inside, the air held the kind of stillness that felt deliberate, as if even sound had learned not to intrude.
Elias Thorne stood alone at the floor-to-ceiling window. His reflection merged with the skyline, a pale specter cast over the empire he had built. Thorne Holdings. Thorne Industries. Thorne Entertainment. The names gleamed in steel and gold, but they meant nothing tonight. They were armor—shiny, hollow, and cold.
He saw it before he heard it: the first drop of rain, sliding down the glass like a tear. Then another. And another. In moments, the sky opened, and the soft patter turned into a relentless drumbeat. Elias didn't move. He couldn't. Rain had always done this to him.
Not weather—memory.
His breath caught. That old ache was already curling low in his stomach, slow and poisonous. He was seventeen again, standing soaked on the marble steps of the Thorne estate. His father's voice thundered louder than the storm.
"You are not a Thorne. Not with that… sickness. Get out."
His mother hadn't said a word. Just watched. Silent. Distant. Cold.
He had walked for hours that night, aimless, soaked, shivering. The rain was the only thing that stayed with him—then and now.
A pulse of fury sparked beneath his ribs. Kevin stirred, the volatile shadow inside him, snarling to be let out. Kevin hated memories. Hated weakness. Wanted to destroy the things that made Elias feel this way.
But then came Cale—quiet, vulnerable, and fragile. A ghost that whispered from the edges of Elias's mind, not with rage, but longing. Cale didn't want to fight. He just wanted to be held. To go back to a time before the cold, before the shame. Before they stopped loving him.
Elias pressed his palms to the glass, grounding himself. He was the host. The CEO. The one in charge. The one who had clawed his way from exile into power with nothing but pain as fuel. But every time it rained, that seventeen-year-old boy came back, dragging his broken pieces with him.
A chime broke the moment. The private line.
"Mr. Thorne," came the careful voice of his chief of staff. "The Helios merger board is finalized. The press conference is next week. Very public. They want you there."
A beat. Elias didn't respond. He couldn't. Not like this. Not when the storm outside mirrored the one in his head.
He needed silence. Escape. Anything.
"TV," he said aloud, and the wall panel responded, lighting up with a random broadcast. A drama scene was playing—something glossy and romantic. He barely noticed.
Then came the voice.
Soft. Pure. Unassuming.
A lullaby hummed from the screen. Meant for the show, yes—but to Elias, it was more. Something inside him unclenched. The rain was still there. So was the storm. But the voice wove through it like a golden thread—pulling him back from the edge.
Kevin fell quiet. Cale went still. For a moment, so did Elias.
His hand reached for the phone with a kind of reverence.
"Find that voice," he said, the command barely above a whisper. "I don't care who it belongs to. Just… bring it to me."