The Night That Changed Everything

Anthony Moretti

Anthony Moretti was born into privilege—the kind of privilege that came wrapped in silk blankets, delivered by private jets, and protected by bodyguards in tailored suits. The only child of the Moretti family, Anthony inherited more than just unimaginable wealth. He inherited power, legacy, and an empire that stretched across borders. His father, Giancarlo Moretti, had built a corporate dynasty from the ground up, and upon his passing, Anthony stepped into the shoes most men would never dare to fill.

And he filled them with ease.

At thirty-five, Anthony was the CEO of one of the top three conglomerates in Europe. After his father’s death, he didn’t just maintain the company’s reputation—he elevated it. Merged, acquired, restructured—whatever it took, he made it happen. He was a genius in the boardroom, feared by competitors, admired by shareholders, and envied by every man in a suit who knew his name. His company headquarters towered over London, sleek and unbothered—just like its owner.

Anthony had the kind of looks that made people stare, even if only for a second. Broad-shouldered, tall, and lean with a body sculpted from relentless hours at the gym, he could’ve easily passed for a runway model. Jet-black hair, sharp jawline, stormy gray eyes, and a voice so deep it could send vibrations through anyone who heard it—he was every bit a fantasy. But he was also real. Untouchably real.

And he was single.

Painfully single, if you asked his mother.

Lady Bianca Moretti was becoming desperate. She saw thirty-five as the edge of a cliff—and her son was standing there without a wife, without a child, and without a care. She had tried everything. Subtle hints. Family dinners. Even an astrologer once. But nothing worked.

“Your friends are all married, Anthony. Some even have two kids already. Do you want to be the last one standing?” she said over brunch one weekend.

“I’d rather be the last one standing than fall for the wrong one,” he replied without looking up from his tablet.

Bianca was worried. Anthony rarely brought women home—actually, never. She had never seen him with a girlfriend. Not once. Not a single woman had walked through their estate’s gates on his arm, not even a date for charity galas. This made her paranoid. “Is my son… not into women?” she once asked herself in private horror.

Anthony wasn’t gay. Far from it. He just didn’t care.

He’d had flings, sure. A few short-lived indulgences over the years, more out of necessity than desire. But he found it exhausting. Women fawned over him the moment they realized who he was. Not because they cared about him, but because they saw his last name, his company, his black card. And he could smell the insincerity before they even opened their lips.

He liked s*x. He wasn’t a saint. But it wasn’t his lifestyle. He had needs, and he took care of them when they arose. Discreetly. Quickly. Without entanglements.

Anthony was decent, introverted, and dangerously principled. He had a code. And nothing broke that code—not lust, not loneliness, not pressure. When his body called, he answered. Then he returned to what mattered—his empire.

His closest friends, all married, often joked about his avoidance of women.

“You’re gonna turn into a fossil before you get laid again,” Marco, his oldest friend, once teased.

Anthony had just chuckled. “At least I won’t get stuck paying alimony.”

Still, his friends missed him. He barely made time for anything outside work. When he wasn’t closing deals or flying between cities, he was in his private gym, lifting away stress and sculpting his perfect frame. Working out kept him sane. Focused.

On the rare occasion he let his guard down, it was only with Marco and a few others. They had known him since childhood. Trusted, loyal. Even they were surprised when Anthony called one afternoon and said, “I’m coming over.”

“To my office?” Marco had asked.

“Yeah. I need coffee and silence. And to get away from my mother’s matchmaking mission.”

That was Anthony. Distant, but never disrespectful. Cold to strangers, but warm to the handful who earned a place in his world.

He wasn’t just every girl’s dream man. He was the dream no one could reach. A walking contradiction—visible yet elusive, sexy yet untouchable.

And for now, that was exactly how he liked it.