Chapter 3 – Rules of the Penthouse
650 Words
By Friday, Amelia had memorized Adrian Blackwood's schedule, his coffee order, and his habit of answering emails at exactly 5:30 every morning.
She had also discovered one undeniable fact.
The man had rules.
Hundreds of them.
Rule One: Never interrupt a meeting.
Rule Two: Every file belongs in alphabetical order.
Rule Three: Meetings begin exactly on time—even if someone important is late.
Rule Four: No flowers in the office.
"They distract people," Adrian had said.
Amelia still wasn't sure how flowers could possibly distract anyone.
At precisely six o'clock that evening, Adrian looked up from his laptop.
"I need you to accompany me."
She blinked.
"Where?"
"My penthouse."
She nearly dropped the folder in her hands.
"Your... penthouse?"
"There are confidential files that cannot leave my home office."
"Oh."
He stood, buttoning his suit jacket.
"The driver is waiting."
───
The Blackwood penthouse overlooked the glittering city skyline.
It was breathtaking.
Marble floors stretched from room to room, enormous windows framed the city lights, and modern artwork lined the walls.
Yet despite its beauty...
It felt empty.
No family photographs.
No laughter.
No signs that anyone truly lived there.
It was elegant.
Perfect.
Lonely.
Amelia quietly followed Adrian into his study.
Shelves filled with books covered one wall, while another held awards from around the world.
She noticed a single framed photograph sitting apart from everything else.
A young boy, smiling brightly beside an older woman.
Adrian noticed where she was looking.
His expression changed instantly.
He turned the frame face down.
"I'm sorry," Amelia said softly.
"You don't need to apologize."
"But I shouldn't have stared."
He didn't answer.
Instead, he opened a locked drawer and handed her several files.
"These contracts need organizing."
She nodded and got to work.
Hours passed in comfortable silence.
Outside, rain began to fall.
Thunder echoed across the city.
Suddenly...
The lights flickered.
Then went out completely.
The penthouse fell into darkness.
Amelia jumped.
"I hate thunderstorms."
"I noticed."
His voice sounded calmer than ever.
A moment later, emergency lights glowed softly along the hallway.
Adrian lit a candle from a nearby drawer.
Its warm light transformed the room, softening the sharp lines of the furniture.
"You keep candles?"
"I prepare for every possibility."
"Of course you do."
That earned the faintest hint of a smile.
As they resumed sorting papers by candlelight, Amelia noticed Adrian rubbing his temple.
"Headache?"
"I'm fine."
"That's not what I asked."
He sighed.
"Yes."
She walked into the kitchen without another word.
A few minutes later she returned with a mug.
"Tea?"
"I drink coffee."
"You also have a headache."
He accepted the mug reluctantly.
After one sip, he looked surprised.
"This is good."
"My grandmother taught me."
They sat in silence, listening to the rain.
Finally, Adrian spoke.
"The woman in the photograph..."
Amelia looked up.
"...was my mother."
His voice was quieter than she'd ever heard it.
"She died when I was twenty."
"I'm so sorry."
"The boy beside her was my younger brother."
Amelia waited.
"He died six months later."
The room felt impossibly still.
Adrian stared into his tea.
"They were my only family."
For the first time since she'd met him, the confident billionaire disappeared.
In his place sat a man who had lost everything that mattered.
Amelia reached across the table.
Not to hold his hand.
Not to force comfort.
She simply rested her fingertips gently beside his.
A silent reminder that he wasn't alone.
He looked at her hand.
Then at her.
"You don't pity me."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're still standing."
His eyes searched hers for a long moment.
"I don't usually tell people about them."
"I'm honored you told me."
Outside, the storm slowly passed.
Inside, something else had changed.
The walls Adrian Blackwood had spent twelve years building had developed their very first c***k.
And Amelia Carter had been the one to find it.
- Writer
