The aroma of burnt coffee and overpriced pastries hung thick in the air of "The Daily Grind," the campus café that was perpetually overflowing with students. Elena Santiago took a grateful sip of her black tea, the warmth a welcome reprieve from the crisp European autumn air. Across the small table, her best friend, Seraphina, was meticulously highlighting a passage in her constitutional law textbook, a small frown of concentration on her perfect face.
"I swear," a voice drifted over from the next table, laced with dreamy adoration. "Did you see the new feature on Lucian Moretti in Forbes? They're calling him the 'Shadow King of Global Finance.' It's so... mysterious."
Elena rolled her eyes so hard she felt a strain. "More like the 'Shadow King of Hostile Takeovers,'" she muttered into her cup. "The man's a predator in a thousand-dollar suit. He devours smaller companies for breakfast and probably flosses with the broken dreams of his employees."
Seraphina's highlighter stopped moving. She glanced up, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes before it was replaced by a gentle smile. "You really don't like him, do you?"
"Hate is a strong word, but it's the one that comes to mind," Elena said, leaning forward. "He represents everything I can't stand. Unchecked power, corporate greed... this idea that because you have money, the world belongs to you. People worship him like he's some kind of god, but he's just a man who got lucky."
"I don't think it was luck," Seraphina said quietly, her gaze dropping back to her book. "From what I've read, he rebuilt his family's company from near-ashes after his grandfather died."
"By being ruthless," Elena countered. "Don't romanticize it, Sera. Guys like that are emotional black holes. They don't have friends; they have assets. They don't have relationships; they have transactions."
Another girl at the next table sighed. "I'd transact with him any day. Those green eyes... they say it's like looking into a storm. And that jawline could cut glass."
Elena made a gagging motion, earning a soft laugh from Seraphina. It was a familiar dance. The world was obsessed with Lucian Moretti, the enigmatic billionaire who was never seen at parties, rarely photographed, but whose influence was felt in every market fluctuation and political whisper. To everyone else, he was an icon. To Elena, he was the villain of a story she wanted no part in.
"Anyway," Elena said, changing the subject. "Are you still good for movie night on Friday? My treat. We can watch that terrible rom-com you love and I can make my famous popcorn."
Seraphina's face lit up, the tension leaving her shoulders. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. You, me, and a sappy movie. My perfect night."
"Promise?"
"Promise," Seraphina affirmed, her smile genuine and warm. It was that smile, that unwavering sincerity, that had drawn Elena to her on their very first day of university. While other girls were sizing each other up, Seraphina had looked lost, and Elena, never one to shy away, had offered directions. They had been inseparable ever since. Seraphina never talked much about her family, only that they were "complicated" and that she lived in a small, private apartment near campus to have her own life, away from a brother she described only as "intensely overprotective." For Elena, whose own family was loving but thousands of miles away in South America, Seraphina was home.
She didn't know how right she was.