WHEN LOVE LASTS

Chapter 3: The New Stylist

'BRUNO'

Bruno Volemont, heir to the illustrious Volemont family, often felt more like a finely crafted doll than a true man. He existed in a glittering world where money mattered more than authenticity; a world filled with golden chandeliers, lavish parties held in skyscrapers, and the soft clinking of crystal glasses. But behind his handsome visage and the impeccable facade of the Volemont empire, Bruno was struggling against an invisible current that threatened to drown him. The city of Y was his playground, yet it felt more like a cage.

Dressed in a tailored suit that cost more than most of his employees' monthly salaries, Bruno stood at the grand window of his office, gazing out at the bustling city below. It was a bustling reality where people scurried about, completely unaware of the loneliness that consumed him. How easily they assumed that wealth equated to happiness. If only they knew.

His thoughts returned to the upcoming grand ball that his family hosted every year—an event that echoed the elite's desire for power and prestige. His sisters had settled into their lives: Rachel, the rebellious older sister, had married a doctor against family approval and had promptly fallen out of favor with their mother. His younger sister, Jenna, had chased her dreams to become an actress, living a life that was radiant and bright, albeit chaotic. Meanwhile, Bruno, the only son, had become a figure of obligation.

Alan's voice interrupted his reverie. “Bruno, you know better than to mess around with your employees. You keep cycling through stylists and assistants like it’s a sport,” he admonished, shaking his head yet failing to mask the amusement in his eyes.

Bruno chuckled, waving away the comment. “But the point of having money is the freedom it brings! I’m not dragging them into my life. It's just a game.” He gazed back out at the city, where his reflection mingled with the sky.

Alan snorted, leaning back in his chair. “You say it’s a game, but it seems you keep losing, my friend. No one wants to admit they fell for the richest bachelor in town. You think you’re untouchable. One day, you’ll push someone too far.”

As their banter unfolded, it was clear that Alan was a rare anchor in Bruno’s tempestuous life, someone who dared to challenge his reckless pursuit of fleeting pleasures.

Minutes turned to hours of strategizing for their upcoming cruise and brunching with the elite of Y. The call from Alan about a new stylist sent Bruno into an unexpected spiral of excitement. “Mercy,” he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. “What does she look like? Is she famous? Does she know who I am?”

Alan’s smile dropped. “Bruno, you have to stop thinking about her like that. She’s here to work, not to idolize you. If she does her job, that’s all that matters,” Alan insisted, his voice steady.

Bruno rolled his eyes but felt an odd flutter in his chest. Maybe it was the thrill of the chase, or maybe — just maybe — he was ready to exchange the game for something real. Still, the fear of intimacy gnawed at him like a relentless shadow, reminding him of how vulnerable love made one.

The following day dawned, a bright sun illuminating the corridors of his penthouse. He couldn’t shake the anticipation he felt for the arrival of Mercy. Just as he finished arranging flowers in a vase—a small token of his desire to impress—there was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” he called, brushing off the nervous sweat beading on his forehead.

“It’s Mercy,” came a voice that sent a quiver down his spine. It was soft yet confident, the kind that tickled curiosity.

Opening the door unveiled a striking woman. Mercy embodied an effortless charm, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and a warm smile carved the path to her high cheekbones. Her hair fell in wild curls around her shoulders, an artful disarray that had undoubtedly taken hours to perfect. Bruno’s heart raced as he briefly stood in silence, absorbing the moment.

“Hello, Mr. Volemont,” she said, the hint of a smirk dancing across her lips. “I’m here to take on the challenge of transforming, or rather… stylizing, the city’s most eligible bachelor for an extravagant ball.”

Bruno couldn’t help but chuckle at her boldness. “And what exactly makes you think I need transformation?”

“Oh, I think it’s perfectly obvious,” she quipped back, her eyes shimmering with wit. “You may own half of Y City, but a little polish wouldn’t hurt.”

As they dove into an unexpectedly spirited dynamic, Bruno looked forward—perhaps too eagerly—to the creative clash that would ensue. There was something refreshingly authentic about Mercy, qualities that went unnoticed by many who surrounded him. He felt a magnetic pull, one that terrified him and excited him in equal measure.

Perhaps this time, he would learn that while games were meant to be played, real connections were meant to be cherished. And despite himself, he found he was eager to see how one stylist would alter the path of his liberally squandered heart.

But unbeknownst to Bruno, the journey ahead would bring forth challenges he had never expected; an unraveling of family secrets, a confrontation with his own demons, and the undeniable realization that love was not just a game he could play.