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 lobbywhere 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.
