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And it’s this same drive I see reflected in Wyn whenever she’s given a true opportunity to show her true worth.
Wyn thinks no one notices her, but I see everything. I see beyond the walls to the scared woman who struggles as I do.
Back in my office, I pace before the glass window that overlooks Manhattan. The towering buildings cast shadows along the walls, and I smile.
This concrete jungle is my kingdom, and I’m the king of its beasts.
The familiar skyline welcomes me as the traffic buzzes below. High noon or the witching hour, this city never pauses—New York’s got its own brand of insomnia.
Off in the distance, the Hudson River glimmers, sunlight dancing across the ripples. The view sparks ideas and sets my mind racing nearly as fast as the cabs whizzing down Broadway.
I fell in love with this crazy city decades ago. It’s a playground of dreamers and ambition, built by hungry souls determined to claw their way up from nothing.
But the climb shouldn’t just be about reaching the top—it should be pursuing a person’s real passion.
Where they bring a splash of heart and creativity to the daily grind in a way that’s accessible to everyone.
When it’s all said and done, success shouldn’t be reserved for those born with silver spoons in their mouths.
I want to build a world where every hungry kid from the streets gets a chance to take their swing at glory.
Steepling my fingers, I ponder Wyn’s marketing ideas for our bet. They’re good, but mine are better. When I’m done, there’s going to be no way she can wiggle out of our deal.
Tragically for her, I have an unfair advantage. Boggarts naturally need very little sleep—if any—compared to humans, and I intend to use this to my benefit.
The thought of Wyn standing here before me with those full, pink lips as I drift closer to finally taste her makes my heart racing, and I know that I have to win this bet.
No matter what.
CHAPTER THREE
WYN
The clock’s relentless ticking drills into my skull, and with every monotonous second passing, I can feel my blood simmering.
It’s the kind of Monday that drags, and claws dig into the edge of sanity—all because Mr. Ettin decided to parade his ego around the meeting today.
Not to mention that bet.
There’s no saying what possessed me to even agree without knowing the full terms aside from my own stupid pride, but as long as I win, everything else will be immaterial.
Despite this reassuring thought, I groan. My co-worker, Sarah, pops her head into my office, giving me a concerned look.
“Hey, wanna grab sushi with us for lunch?”
She means the rest of the floor, but I shake my head.
I’ve got far too many deadlines along with Mr. Ettin’s dare to worry about.
There’s no way I’m going to lose, even if it means working through lunch.
Sarah hums, the closest she dares to offer me her sympathy before backing out and leaving me to my own misery.
Time drones on when I hear someone clear their throat.
I peek through my office door, hoping it’s a delivery guy with extra food on the wrong floor.
It’s not, and because I have the world’s worst luck, it’s Mr. Ettin, striding past the empty aisles of cubicles toward me.
