CHASING THE STARS

n the midst of it all. My name is Elliot Hawke and I'm the sole offspring of the illustrious Hawke lineage. You know the one: a multi-billion dollar empire, luxury automob

ng an orange glow across the horizon. Although I recognize the beauty of the view, I feel indifferent. I have no interest in the wealth. I care not for any of it. "Are you prepared, son?" My father's voice jolts me from my reve

ting the gala. A dozen photographers are snapping pictures as we exit, the flashbulbs momentarily blinding me. I detest the cameras. I loathe the attention. Yet, my father-ever the politician-strides ahead, all smiles, waving to the cameras as if he were destined for this life. As we enter, the weight of their gazes is palpable. They are all anticipating something; they desire me to embody the heir, the flawl

ng more than an accessory in this gathering. I have grown accustomed to this dynamic over time. After all, I do not possess the authority; I am merely the child they anticipate will inherit the mantle when the moment arises. I seize a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, attempting to assimilate into the atmosphere, but I cannot dispel the sensation that I am suffocating within these confines. The opulent decor and the individuals exch

that sentiment. But you won't be able to evade this reality for long. You'll come to realize, eventually, it's your destiny." I roll my eyes and take a sip from my glass. "Destiny?" I mutter, almost inaudibly. That word feels like a burdensome weight pressing against my chest. I don't subscribe to the notion of destiny. Not for me, not for anyone else. He leans i

heir. I reject the notion of being ensnared in a gilded cage, striving to meet the expectations of others. "I don't want it," I murmur, my tone more assertive than I had planned. However, it is the truth. I cannot conceal it any longer. Xander's grin w

a promise I

omehow render the atmosphere insincere. I could simply exit; I could effortlessly slip thr

gure out wha

play. However, there is something about her-something that compels me to approach and initiate a conversation. Her name is Charlotte Stone, or Charlie, as I will later discover. She embodies the type of person who doesn't conform to societal expectations. I can sense it in the way she carries herself: confident, independ