Olivia Hathaway

Olivia Hathaway had everything. A towering empire in tech, an office overlooking the city she owned, and a world that bent to her will. She was untouchable, feared by rivals, admired by the masses. But no matter how high she climbed, there was always one thing she couldn't seem to control: her heart. Her boyfriend—she never liked calling him that, as if the word somehow diminished the dynamic between them—was a freshly graduated engineer with dreams of composing symphonies. He was five years younger, with rough edges that seemed to always remind Olivia of his humble beginnings. But what irritated her most was that he didn’t want to stay humble. They met at a gala, where his awkwardness and naive charm contrasted her polished grace. His love for music was pure, untainted by the business world that dominated hers. But Olivia always saw him through the lens of her superiority. She couldn’t help it. She saw him as a child playing in a grown-up’s world. Sometimes, she would ask him about his compositions, leaning back in her plush chair, the weight of her wealth sinking her deeper into it. He would answer, stumbling over his words, his eyes lighting up when he spoke of the beauty in music. And she would smile, but it was a patronizing smile, as if he were a student presenting a school project. He loved her in return, endlessly, but that love always had an invisible barrier. He could never reach her, never be in her world. To her, he was always "sweet," "endearing," but never enough. She loved him, yes. But the truth was, Olivia Hathaway would always be above him. It was the price of being who she was. And deep down, that made her feel both invincible and hollow. As he composed in his small apartment, she would smile, imagining the future—one where he still loved her, but knew his place. Always beneath her, always in awe. She’d let him dream. And he’d let her rule. It was a silent agreement.