A Heart Sealed with Stone
1241 Words
Rumors did not ask permission to exist.
They were born in whispers, fed by fear, and raised on imagination. In this city, rumors carried more weight than truth, and no rumor was more powerful than the ones attached to Adrian Black.
They said he had never smiled.
They said he slept with a gun under his pillow.
They said he had ordered executions with a flick of his fingers and watched without blinking.
They said women were disposable to him, like empty glasses after a party.
They said he had no heart.
People told these stories in barber shops, in crowded buses, in back rooms of bars. They told them with lowered voices and nervous glances, as if Adrian himself might be listening.
And maybe he was.
Adrian Black lived in the highest penthouse of the Blackspire Tower, a glass-and-steel monument that pierced the clouds and overlooked the entire city. From his floor-to-ceiling windows, he could see everything—roads that twisted like veins, neighborhoods stitched together by flickering lights, and the distant river reflecting the moon like a blade.
It was beautiful.
It was empty.
He stood alone in the living room, a crystal tumbler of whiskey resting loosely in his hand. The space around him was vast and immaculate, decorated in shades of black, charcoal, and steel. Everything had been designed for control. There were no personal photographs on the walls. No warmth in the furniture. No softness in the sharp lines of architecture.
The apartment looked like its owner.
Cold. Perfect. Untouchable.
He took a slow sip and stared out at the city.
Somewhere down there, people were living ordinary lives. Falling in love. Arguing over dinner. Laughing too loudly in cheap restaurants. Making mistakes. Forgiving each other.
Adrian didn’t remember the last time he had done any of those things.
His phone buzzed in his hand.
He didn’t need to look to know who it was.
“Speak,” he said.
“Boss,” Marco’s voice came through, steady and respectful. “The cleanup is complete. No loose ends.”
“Good.”
“There’s something else.”
Adrian waited.
“One of the suppliers tried to renegotiate terms. He mentioned going to Valenti.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Valenti was a rival. Older. Greedier. Less disciplined.
“He won’t,” Adrian said.
“Should I make an example?”
Adrian considered it for a moment.
“No,” he replied. “Not yet. Let him think he has options.”
“Yes, boss.”
The call ended.
Adrian set his glass down and loosened his tie. He moved through the apartment with silent steps, shedding layers of armor as he went—coat, jacket, cufflinks. In the bedroom, he opened a drawer and retrieved a small black box.
Inside were things he never allowed anyone to see.
A faded photograph of a younger version of himself standing beside a smiling girl with bright eyes.
A silver necklace, broken at the clasp.
A handwritten note with ink smudged by tears.
He stared at them for a long moment.
Once, he had been different.
Once, he had believed love could save him.
He closed the box.
Those days were dead.
Adrian Black had learned his lessons early.
He had grown up in a world where kindness was weakness and trust was currency. His father had been a small-time operator who tried to play fair in a crooked game. It got him killed. His mother worked herself into exhaustion trying to keep Adrian in school, trying to protect him from the streets.
She failed.
By eighteen, Adrian had blood on his hands.
By twenty-five, he had power.
By thirty, he had everything a man could want—money, influence, respect, fear.
Everything except peace.
His first love, Sofia, had been his escape. She saw him before the empire, before the scars, before the shadows. She had believed in him when he was just another angry young man trying to climb out of poverty.
But Sofia couldn’t survive his world.
She left him with tears in her eyes and hope in her voice, begging him to walk away with her.
He chose power.
The second woman, Elena, had stayed longer. She had enjoyed the luxury, the protection, the prestige. She smiled beside him at events and whispered promises in his ear at night.
She also fed information to the police.
Adrian had spared her life.
He considered that mercy his greatest mistake.
After that came others.
Women who wanted his money.
Women who wanted his name.
Women who wanted to feel powerful by standing next to him.
None of them wanted Adrian himself.
So he stopped trying.
He stopped offering pieces of his soul.
He stopped believing in connection.
Now, he kept relationships transactional and brief. He provided security and comfort. They provided distraction. Everyone understood the rules.
Feelings were not part of the arrangement.
The city called him heartless.
They were wrong.
He had a heart.
He had simply buried it under years of betrayal and survival.
Across town, Mila stood on the balcony of her tiny apartment, smoking a cigarette she didn’t even like.
She watched the traffic below, listening to distant sirens and laughter drifting up from the street.
She had heard of Adrian Black, of course.
Everyone had.
Her coworkers talked about him like he was a myth. Her neighbors spoke his name like a curse. Taxi drivers avoided certain routes because they belonged to him.
Mila didn’t care.
She had grown up learning that fear gave men power.
She refused to give anyone that satisfaction.
Her phone buzzed with a message from her best friend.
Did you hear what happened in the industrial district tonight?
Mila typed back: No. And I don’t care.
She crushed the cigarette under her shoe and went back inside.
Mila’s life wasn’t glamorous. She worked two jobs—days at a small design studio, nights at a bar downtown. Her apartment was cramped and her furniture mismatched. She paid her bills late and argued with landlords who tried to intimidate her.
She was tired.
But she was free.
She had learned early to rely on herself. Her father had disappeared when she was young. Her mother had done her best, but life had been cruel. Mila had been forced to grow up fast, to develop sharp edges just to survive.
That stubbornness had become her armor.
People often mistook it for arrogance.
She didn’t correct them.
Back in his penthouse, Adrian lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep didn’t come easily anymore.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw faces.
The men from the warehouse.
Sofia’s tears.
Elena’s lies.
He rolled onto his side and exhaled slowly.
Tomorrow would bring meetings, negotiations, territory disputes, and endless decisions that affected thousands of lives. He would put on his suit, wear his cold expression, and remind the world who he was.
The devil of the city.
But tonight, alone in the dark, he allowed himself one dangerous thought.
What would it feel like to be seen again?
He dismissed it immediately.
That kind of thinking got people killed.
His heart had been sealed with stone for a reason.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to rest.
Somewhere, fate was already moving pieces into place.
Neither Adrian nor Mila knew it yet.
But their worlds were on a collision course.
And when they finally met, stone would crack.
- Writer
