Chapter 8: Behind the Spotlight (1)
1967 Words
At exactly six a.m., the curtains covering the glass walls automatically drew open. Morning sunlight filtered through the crystal-clear windows, casting a golden glow across the modern, tastefully decorated room - part of a luxurious penthouse in the heart of the bustling city.
On a king-sized bed draped in smoke-gray silk sheets, a face as beautiful as a painting rested peacefully, eyes still shut. Golden hair, cropped just above the nape, spilled across the pillow, catching the sunlight and shimmering with a halo of warm amber.
Suddenly, the man’s eyes opened slowly, revealing a deep, endless ocean of blue beneath his sharply defined, masculine features.
Adrian sat up and stretched lazily, the muscles beneath his thin shirt flexing with each subtle movement.
He left the bed, washed up in the bathroom, then walked out of the bedroom at a calm, unhurried pace.
In the lavish kitchen, the automatic espresso machine was humming softly. On the dining table, breakfast had already been prepared, still steaming.
Sophia Carter, Adrian’s personal assistant, approached at a measured pace and spoke respectfully,
“Breakfast is ready, Dr. Monroe. Guatemalan coffee, Eggs Benedict, and fresh fruit, as usual.”
Adrian gave a small nod, accepted the warm cup of coffee, and took a sip. His pale blue eyes fluttered shut briefly, savoring the taste.
He lived alone in a penthouse apartment nestled within one of the city’s most opulent residential towers. In addition to his teaching position at the Department of Behavioral Psychology at the University of California, Adrian was also well-known in financial circles as a sharp and daring venture capitalist. With a private investment fund under his name, he had poured capital into numerous startups in the tech and healthcare sectors, most of which had achieved remarkable success, bringing him a fortune many envied.
Wealthy, handsome, brilliant, and single, those were the words that best described Adrian. Yet he preferred a relatively private lifestyle, rarely appearing in the media and never sharing anything personal on social platforms. As a result, only those within the investment world truly knew much about this enigmatic investor. Otherwise, with both his external appeal and inner qualities, Adrian could easily have driven half the women in Los Angeles mad for him.
On the wall-mounted television, the morning news was playing. The male anchor’s calm, baritone voice delivered the latest update:
“Famed actor Nathan Greer was found dead in his home early this morning. Police have confirmed he passed away at the age of 40. The initial cause of death is believed to be suicide.”
“According to sources close to the investigation, Nathan Greer held a short livestream prior to taking his own life, in which he said farewell to his fans. In the video, he appeared emotionally distressed and spoke of ‘an emptiness that could never be filled.’ Footage from the livestream is now spreading rapidly across social media platforms.”
Adrian lowered his gaze, carefully slicing into the poached egg with his knife, savoring the visual satisfaction as the rich amber yolk slowly spilled from the cut, blending seamlessly into the silky hollandaise sauce.
He had little interest in following entertainment news. The brighter the light, the sharper the shadow. The entertainment industry, for all its dazzling glamour, was in his eyes a cesspool, filthy and reeking. A place he had no desire to set foot in. Because nothing lured monsters out of hiding better than the scent of fresh blood and the promise of sin.
“Change the channel. Business news,” Adrian said evenly, his voice calm and unhurried.
The smart system received the command, and the television screen instantly switched to another channel, now displaying the stock market’s turbulent red-opening this morning.
Seeing that her duties were complete, Sophia approached and asked politely,
“Do you need anything else, Dr. Monroe?”
Adrian looked up, his gaze gentle yet distant. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he nodded in gratitude.
“No. That will be all. You don’t need to bring lunch for me today.”
“Understood. I’ll excuse myself, then.”
Adrian valued his privacy, which was why there were no live-in housekeepers in his home. Only cleaning staff came in on a fixed schedule each day, did their work, and then left.
After finishing breakfast, Adrian changed his clothes and stepped into the elevator, descending straight to his private garage.
As the elevator doors slid open, cool white lights bathed the polished epoxy floor, casting a sleek sheen across a row of luxury cars parked in perfect alignment. Eye-catching sports cars, rugged off-road vehicles, sleek executive sedans, every type one could imagine was there.
Adrian walked past them all, his gaze settling on a simple matte-black BMW, a luxury sedan, refined but not ostentatious. He opened the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.
By the time Adrian arrived at the police department, the SCIU team was already present.
His appearance immediately drew attention. Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise, and she greeted him warmly,
“Hi, Adrian! You’re working today too?”
As a consultant, Adrian wasn’t required to be in the office like the full-time staff. He only needed to show up when a case called for his expertise.
Adrian gave a slight nod, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Good morning, Lucy. No case today. I’m just here to look through some old files. Has the Captain arrived yet?”
Lucy pointed toward the far end of the office and gave Adrian a playful wink in lieu of a verbal response.
Adrian smiled his thanks and made his way straight to Alex’s office, giving the doorframe a light knock.
“Come in,” came Alex’s deep, slightly surprised voice from inside.
When Adrian stepped through the doorway, Alex’s gaze couldn’t help but linger on him a little longer than usual.
Today, Adrian wore a navy blue suit tailored to fit perfectly along the lines of his frame, every cut and stitch reflecting a quiet elegance and precision. Beneath it, a crisp black dress shirt lay neatly pressed, the collar fastened with a silver-gray silk tie. A classic wristwatch adorned his hand, and his feet were polished in mirror-shine black Oxfords. There was a faint trace of cologne in the air, subtle, clean, and just noticeable enough to draw attention from up close. His blond hair was neatly swept to one side, a few strands falling gently over his high forehead, while a pair of rimless glasses perched on his nose lent him a refined, scholarly air.
Adrian looked so immaculately put together that even someone as confident in his own appearance and fashion sense as Alex couldn’t help but feel slightly self-conscious.
He thought to himself that to show up at the office looking like that, the guy must’ve woken up at three a.m. just to get ready.
“Good morning, Dr. Monroe. What’s the occasion, meeting with the FBI Director today?” Alex greeted him, his voice laced with dry humor.
Adrian caught the underlying tone in Alex’s jab and smoothly translated it in his mind as a compliment on his appearance.
“Thanks. I have a standing appointment with the President,” he replied with a faint smile, then shifted back to business. “Captain, I’d like to request access to the archived case files.”
Alex frowned slightly.
“Adrian, you’re not a full-time employee. Our protocols don’t allow unrestricted access to investigative records. You’ll need clearance from higher up to view those files.”
Adrian didn’t look surprised. He nodded mildly, then pulled a printed sheet from his briefcase and slid it across the desk.
“This is the list of cases approved by Chief Snyder for my access, within the scope of my research.”
The reason Adrian had agreed to become a consultant for the police in the first place was precisely so he could access more real-world data and case material for a criminal psychology research project he was conducting. Chief Snyder had been fully aware of this from the beginning, and when Adrian submitted his list, the chief had reviewed and signed off on it without much delay. Most of the cases were old, with nothing sensitive or classified.
Alex skimmed through the list and said,
“These cases are all pretty old. Our digital system doesn’t have the full records. If you really want to go through them, you’ll have to check the physical archives.”
“No problem.”
Alex locked his computer screen, threw on his jacket, and nodded toward the door.
“Follow me.”
They left the office, walked through the main hallway, and descended a narrow stairwell that led to Sublevel Two, where the precinct’s physical archive was stored.
The atmosphere down there was gloomy and silent. Flickering fluorescent lights cast a pale glow that only deepened the sense of coldness and desolation in the air.
Alex led Adrian past towering shelves of files, finally stopping at the section where the cases on Adrian’s list were stored.
“This is everything from before 2005. Each year’s records are in a separate section. Old files, crumbling paper, handwritten notes, don’t expect to find any hard drives.”
He turned toward Adrian, half-joking,
“If you actually have the patience to read through all this, I might have to consider offering you a permanent position.”
As Adrian started sorting through folders, Alex leaned against a shelf with his arms crossed, his eyes inevitably drifting back to Adrian’s face.
Humans were hardwired to admire beauty.
Even a thorny rose was still a rose.
As long as there was no emotional entanglement, no messy involvement…
Just watching from a distance? That much was still good for the eyes.
But just then, Adrian let out a soft gasp. He’d caught the sharp corner of a file folder, slicing the tip of his finger.
Watching a bead of red slowly form, his complexion paled immediately, and he kept muttering under his breath as if he’d just survived a stab wound.
Alex, startled, grabbed his hand to check. A moment later, his eyes narrowed as he stared at Adrian with a look that screamed disbelief.
“Good thing you cried out early,” he said dryly. “If you'd waited another second, the wound might’ve healed on its own.”
He thought to himself that this silver-spoon kid really was fragile. A paper cut, barely visible, and here he was acting like he’d lost a limb.
But Adrian bit his lip and shook his head faintly. “It really hurts. I’m not kidding.”
Seeing the sweat forming on Adrian’s forehead and the unnatural paleness of his lips, Alex had no choice but to guide him back upstairs to patch him up.
Just ten minutes later, Adrian returned to the office with his “battle wound” in tow.
Lucy, whose mouth was always faster than her brain, immediately teased,
“Captain, already made him bleed? That’s some rough technique you’ve got there.”
Elijah raised his brows and let out a dramatic whistle.
Marco, never one to let chaos go to waste, added fuel to the fire,
“Ten minutes, huh? Captain, you’re fast.”
Alex settled Adrian down in his chair, then marched over to the medical cabinet, grabbed what he needed, and returned with a no-nonsense glare.
He slapped a stack of band-aids onto the table and jerked his chin toward the rest of them.
“Line up. One each. Tape them over your mouths.”
Lucy shrank her neck and mimed zipping her lips. The others, wisely, followed suit.
Only then did Alex seem satisfied. He perched himself on the edge of Adrian’s desk and said,
“What are you waiting for? Hand.”
- Writer
