Jackson's heart raced as they approached her apartment building. It was a modest brick structure, nothing like the towering glass monstrosity he now called home. But something was charming about its simplicity, a warmth that his sterile penthouse lacked. He stepped into the apartment, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. It was cozy, filled with plush throw pillows and potted plants that seemed to sprout from every available surface. The air smelled faintly of incense and something earthy – probably one of those essential oils yoga people always raved about. As she busied herself with turning on lamps, his gaze wandered to the wall adorned with framed photos. Most featured Chloe in various yoga poses. But one picture in particular caught his eye. It showed Chloe beaming at the camera, her arms wrapped around a tall, handsome man with a chiseled jaw and perfect hair. They looked sickeningly happy together, like one of those couples you'd see in a toothpaste commercial. "That's my b

Jackson slumped into the plush leather booth, his eyes darting between James, Matthew, and Charles. The bar hummed with Friday night energy, but their corner felt like an island of conspiracy. "Alright, spill it," James leaned forward, his beer sloshing dangerously. "What's this mysterious shindig you've roped us into?" Jackson cleared his throat, buying time with a long swig of his whiskey. "Well, funny story..." Matthew groaned. "Oh God, here we go." "It's not that bad!" Jackson protested. "I just... may have gotten us invited to a party. Sunday night." Charles raised an eyebrow. "And you're just telling us now because...?" "Because I only found out recently?" Jackson offered weakly. The disbelief on his friends' faces told him they weren't buying it. He sighed. "Look, I don't know much about it either. All I know is it's supposed to be this fancy shindig. Lots of rich folks, potential connections, that sort of thing." "Rich folks, huh?" James leaned back. "Well, well, well.

Jackson sipped his coffee, trying not to fidget under Isabella's intense gaze. She hadn't touched her mug, her eyes fixed on him like a hawk eyeing its prey. The morning sunlight filtering through the penthouse windows did nothing to soften the tension in the air. "So," Isabella drawled, her finger tracing the rim of her untouched coffee mug, "you're telling me you've been in a coma for nine years and just woke up?" "Uh, yeah... Nine years. Crazy, right?" "Nine years," she repeated, her tone flatter than week-old soda. "Yep," he nodded, sipping his coffee to avoid her piercing gaze. "Alright, Jackson. Cut the crap. Why didn't you mention this whole coma business earlier? That's not exactly small talk material, but come on." "I didn't want to freak you out?" he offered weakly. "I mean, how do you casually drop 'Hey, I've been unconscious for almost a decade' into the conversation?" "Right. Because that's totally normal. Just like waking up from a coma and suddenly owning a penth

Jackson stood in front of his full-length mirror, fiddling with his bowtie. He'd never been great at tying the damn things, but tonight he was determined to look sharp. The party was in a few hours, and he wanted to make a good impression. After all, it wasn't every day that a guy got invited to a fancy shindig by a mysterious voice in his head. "Left over right, then... wait, was it under or over?" he muttered, his fingers tangling in the silk. The doorbell chimed just as he considered giving up and going with a clip-on. His heart skipped a beat. Could it be Isabella? He abandoned the bowtie, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck, and hurried to the door. As he reached for the handle, he caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, and his shirt was half-untucked. Taking a deep breath, he swung the door open with what he hoped was a charming smile. "Hey there, I was just..." His voice trailed off. The hallway was empty. He blin

The valet handed the tickets back to Jackson with a slight bow. "Please, enjoy the party. And if I may say so, sir... you and your friends are in for quite an evening." As the group passed the gates, Matthew leaned in close to Jackson. "Okay, seriously. Did you sell a kidney to get us in here?" Jackson chuckled, distributing the tickets among his friends. "Let's just say I've had an... interesting week." As they stepped into the estate, the open area unfolded before them like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster. The air buzzed with energy, filled with the chatter of glamorous guests and the soft clink of champagne flutes. Everywhere they looked, impossibly beautiful people milled about, their designer outfits probably worth more than Jackson's old apartment. "Holy smokes," Charles whispered, his eyes wide as saucers. "I feel like I just walked onto the set of 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.'" James gave a low whistle as a statuesque blonde sashayed past, her legs seemingly g