Micah slipped into a deserted restroom, his breath slightly uneven from the effort of maneuvering through the maze-like venue without drawing attention. The cool air freshener greeted him as he locked the door behind him.
He shrugged off his coat and lessened his tie, tossing them onto the sink counter. His finger made quick work of the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing the base of his throat.
Then, he unfastened his trousers and set them aside. Grabbing the sleek black pants that he had stolen from the waiter's lounge, he slipped them on.
To ease his guilt, he had left more money in the waiter's locker than the pants were worth.
The smooth fabric hung loosely on his legs, transforming his formal attire into something more unnoticeable.
Micah reached into his coat's pocket and pulled out a small spray can. With a few sprays, his striking white hair darkened to a deep black.
Then, he removed his glasses and washed his hands thoroughly before picking up the small box, he put his lenses on with practised ease.
Once he was done, he leaned toward the mirror, studying his reflection.
He looked less like the spoiled young master of the Ramsy family and more like a waiter. Perfect.
With a final glance at his disguise, he turned and strode out of the restroom. He moved toward the back door exit, but as soon as he got close, his hopes of slipping away unnoticed were crushed. Two security guards were standing there, making it impossible to walk past them unnoticed.
He tried two other doors, but they were all the same.
"What is this, a Prison? What's with this tight security?"
Micah mumbled under his breath in frustration.
He pressed His lips together and changed direction, heading toward the garden instead.
Outside, the warm night air filled his lungs, making his irritation worse.
He scanned the edge of the garden for an escape route, his gaze landing on a sturdy tree near the outer wall.
He looked left and right, not seeing anybody, he climbed up the tree.
His years of childhood mischief had trained his body into something agile and capable. He grabbed the lowest branch and hoisted himself up. The bark scraped his palm, but he ignored it, pulling himself higher until he reached a point where he could grasp the edge of the wall.
Micah peered over. Below, a sleek black car was parked beneath him.
"Lucky me!" he smirked.
Shifting his grip, he dangled from the wall's edge, his muscles tensing. But as he extended his legs, he realised with frustration that the car's roof was just out of reach.
"Damn it!"
Micah cursed and let go of the wall.
A dull thud echoed through the quiet street as his feet landed on the car's ceiling, the impact jolting through his legs.
Micah winced.
Scrambling down, he hopped off of the vehicle's roof and straightened up. He scanned the surroundings, checking for witnesses. Seeing no one, he sighed in relief.
He brushed off his clothes and looked at the car.
The ceiling was now noticeably deformed.
"Shit!"
He muttered, kicking a stone on the ground.
Digging into his pockets, he found a napkin but no pen. He scratched his neck in irritation. In the end, he pulled out his phone, snapped a quick picture of the car's license plate, and mouthed sorry.
Micah thought he would find the owner later and send compensation. For now, he had somewhere to be.
He jogged down the street, blending into the city's late-night bustle. Within minutes, he hailed a taxi and gave the driver Darcy's neighbourhood address.
Unknown to Micah, the car he had used so unceremoniously as a landing pad was not vacant.
Inside, hidden behind tinted windows, a man sat in the backseat, his sharp brown eyes fixed on the ceiling that had just caved in.
Just a few moments ago, he had laid down to rest his tired body after 30 hours of running around without sleep, but instead, he had caught sight of the young man dangling from the wall, thinking to himself that these days teenagers had become so bold, escaping in such a manner. Perhaps he had offended someone or stolen something. He didn't care.
But he never thought that young man would land on the roof of his half-a-million car as if it were nothing more than a stepping stone.
Years of self-control kept him from yelling in shock. He stared at the young man, who was fumbling with his pockets in frustration. Then, he took a photo, mouthing sorry, and ran off!
His lips twitched in anger.
From the appearance of the young man was evident he was just a waiter! He had the audacity to think he could afford to compensate him.
Even if he worked all his life, he would never be able to pay for it.
"Hah!"
He let out a laugh in anger.
Aidan Wilson, 26 years old, had used any means to climb to where he was.
He had mastered the art of adaptation to any situation. Yet, this situation made his temper flare.
He exhaled through his nose. He could not remember the last time his emotions fluctuated this badly.
He was always calm and collected. But the absurdity of the situation and the nonchalant behaviour of the young man had hit a nerve.
Still, he suppressed the urge to step out and confront the young man. His presence at this venue was meant to be a secret. Showing his face was unthinkable, leading to his identity being exposed. His decision to park the car in this secluded area was the result of this.
He was in a hurry to get here, and changing his car to a more discreet one was out of the question.
Aidan Wilson rubbed his painful temples and thought it was better to set the matter aside.
After the most pressing issue was taken care of, he could track down the young man easily. This grand venue hosted a few banquets and their staff were fixed for privacy. Using CCTV, he could uncover his identity like a piece of cake.
Aidan sighed and leaned back. He tousled his messy hair. He had a bigger goal.
These small annoyances could not sabotage his hard work.
A soft click interrupted his thought. The door opened and a woman slid inside. Her dress clung to her figure, the fabric shimmering under the dim interior lights.
"Boss, I got the evidence."
She said, her tone professional.
"Good. Let's go."
Adrian said with a crisp nod.
As the car pulled away, his secretary stole a glance at him through the rearview mirror.
Even with exhaustion, Adian Wilson exuded an undeniable presence.
At 186cm tall, his long legs stretched comfortably in the seat. His well-toned muscles, hidden beneath a dress shirt, added to his aura of effortless dominance. His brown hair, slightly dishevelled, gave him a touch of wildness while his brown eyes were so intense they seemed to suck the soul out of your body.
Growing a scruff on his jaw after not shaving for two days made his appearance more striking.
He was so alluring that most people meeting him for the first time would be attracted to him. But she knew in the eyes of the man, everyone was just a chess piece.
It did not matter how beautiful or charming they were, Aidan Wilson had never thrown a glance at them.