The world knew Lanna Ruby Haze as an abstract concept: the heir apparent to the Instyle Clothing Line, a vast enterprise that dressed half the country. But Lanna herself was determined to keep the abstract concept from becoming a physical reality.
At Metropolitan University, where the children of billionaires mingled in designer sneakers, Lanna was a ghost. She was a focused, almost painfully average student in the competitive management program. Her daily uniform was a carefully constructed fortress against attention. Her oversized, oatmeal-colored sweatshirt, thick corduroy trousers, and heavy-soled boots were all pieces from the Instyle production line, but deliberately stripped of their tags, labels, and the subtle quality markers that screamed ‘couture.’ Her magnificent, waist-length brown hair was usually contained in a severe, low ponytail, and her crowning glory of camouflage was a pair of large, thick-rimmed, round glasses that obscured the piercing, intelligent green of her eyes.
Lanna was, beneath the disguise, a striking woman. Her fair skin, high cheekbones, and perfectly shaped pouty lips were assets she rigorously concealed. The shapeless clothes, while hiding her figure, couldn't completely mute the inherent grace of her movements. She hid because she understood a fundamental truth about wealth: it warped perception. People either wanted to use her, marry her, or tear her down. Lanna simply wanted to learn management and secure a life where her accomplishments were her own.
The Calculated Affection
Lanna sat in the bustling campus cafeteria, her nose buried in a case study on supply chain optimization. Beside her was Jacob Sterling, her boyfriend of six months. Jacob, 22, was a top student, clean-cut, and radiating ambition.
“You’re still reading about warehouse logistics?” Jacob chuckled, but the sound lacked genuine amusement. It was the sound of a well-oiled machine commenting on another’s efficient operation. He reached over and lightly squeezed her hand—a public display designed more for the benefit of the surrounding students than for Lanna.
“It’s actually fascinating,” Lanna replied earnestly, pulling her focus away from the text. “Instyle could cut production costs by 15% if they implemented JIT delivery across their Asian hubs.”
Jacob nodded approvingly, taking a slow sip of his espresso. “See? Focus. That’s what I like about you, Lanna. You’re practical. No drama. No desperate social climbing. Just pure, unadulterated focus.”
Lanna’s heart warmed. She interpreted his praise as appreciation for her mind and her grounded nature. “I like your focus, too, Jacob. You know exactly what you want.”
What Lanna didn't know was that her simplicity was the primary appeal. Jacob, whose life goal was to hit the CEO chair before he was thirty, viewed relationships as dangerous liabilities. High-maintenance, beautiful women were distractions that led to poor grades and media gossip. Lanna, with her plain attire and intense dedication to their shared course, was the perfect shield. She provided the appearance of a stable, serious relationship, warding off other suitors without demanding any real emotional investment. She was the ideal distraction-chaser.
He continued, his eyes scanning the tables for any peers watching their interaction. “We should study late tonight. That financial modeling assignment is a monster, and you’re the only one who doesn’t turn into a hysterical mess when the numbers don’t balance.”
“Sounds good,” Lanna agreed, already mentally planning her study hours. She was genuinely, deeply in love with the idea of Jacob—the serious, ambitious partner who seemed to value her competence over her appearance. It was a love built on a necessary lie, and Jacob was the master architect of that deception.
The Confidante and the Legacy
Later that afternoon, Lanna escaped the concrete campus for a quiet corner in the park with her friend, Brenna Ford. Brenna, 20, was the antithesis of Lanna's daytime persona: a radiant, cheerful woman with short, stylish blonde hair and an infectious, loud laugh. Brenna's family, also in the textile industry, was tied to the Haze empire, forging their unbreakable childhood bond. Brenna was the only person Lanna didn't have to lie to.
“You’re going to suffocate in that tweed sack, Lanna,” Brenna declared, poking Lanna’s oversized sleeve. “It’s ninety degrees and you look like you’re trying to impress a librarian from the 1950s.”
Lanna shrugged, pulling the glasses off and rubbing the bridge of her nose. Instantly, her green eyes shone, and the transformation was subtle but startling. “It’s safer this way. Today, Mr. Van Der Zee cornered me about ‘future investment opportunities’ for my father. If he knew I had a trust fund the size of a small country, he’d never leave me alone.”
“You’re right, you’d be drowning in gold-diggers. But Jacob Sterling is still the biggest disappointment in dating history,” Brenna sighed, shaking her head. “The man has the emotional capacity of a spreadsheet.”
“He’s focused, Brenna. He has goals,” Lanna defended, though a faint doubt always lingered at the edges of her mind.
“He has a calculator for a heart. Anyway,” Brenna said, her tone suddenly shifting to excitement, “I booked the usual spot tonight. We need to release the real Lanna Ruby Haze. The heiress who knows how to use a heel to walk all over a man’s pride.”
Lanna’s eyes sparkled. The thought of the night life—the exhilarating freedom of not being Lanna Haze, heiress, or Lanna Haze, intern, but simply Lanna, a beautiful woman enjoying her prime—was the only thing that made the daylight charade bearable.
“Tonight, I forget Instyle, I forget Jacob, and I forget my entire future,” Lanna whispered. “Tonight, I’m just a girl with a penchant for high-fashion and trouble.”
The Architect of Despair
Miles away, in a penthouse apartment overlooking the sprawling cityscape, Hunter Strauss was a casualty of his own success. At 25, he had built a formidable financial empire, characterized by ruthless efficiency and sharp intuition. Now, his penthouse was dim, his life a stagnant pool of betrayal and pain.
The room smelled faintly of stale coffee and unlaundered clothes—a profound dereliction for a man whose professional uniform was a six-thousand-dollar bespoke suit. Hunter sat slumped in a leather armchair, staring blankly at a high-definition television showing muted financial news.
The trauma was singular and absolute: the abortion. His ex-girlfriend, Alicia Rhodes, a beautiful and famous actress, had decided their baby would interfere with her carefully constructed career arc. Hunter, who had already mentally cleared his schedule and designed the nursery, felt a profound, aching betrayal. He hadn’t just lost a relationship; he had lost a future he was actively building. He had broken up with Alicia, but the pain had curdled into a heavy, consuming depression.
He hadn't shaved in weeks. His usually immaculate brown hair was slightly too long and unstyled. The blue eyes that once held the clear, sharp light of corporate predation were now clouded with a debilitating fog. He hadn't been to his office in four days.
A faint sound at the door interrupted the silence.
“Hunter. It’s Erick. I’m coming in.”
Erick Sage, Hunter's 25-year-old friend and secretary, entered the apartment. Erick was the opposite of Hunter's current state: impeccably dressed, handsome, and calm. He was serious at work but approached personal matters with kindness and a playful edge. Erick knew everything—the excitement Hunter felt about the baby, the crushing finality of Alicia's decision, and the subsequent descent into depression.
Erick surveyed the room, his expression a practiced blend of disappointment and sympathy. “You look like a shipwreck, my friend.”
Hunter managed a rough, gravelly sound that might have been a laugh. “I feel like one. The kind that settles at the bottom and rusts.”
Erick walked to the window, pulling open the blackout curtains. The sudden flood of late-afternoon sun was painful. “The world hasn’t stopped trading just because Alicia is a monster, Hunter. We have a meeting with Instyle’s CEO next week, remember? This is a massive opportunity, and you need to be there.”
“Send them a boilerplate agreement. I don’t care,” Hunter mumbled, running a hand through his unkempt beard.
“I care. Your father cares. And frankly, this self-pity party is getting tiresome,” Erick said, dropping the friendly facade. “Look, I know what she did hurt you more than anything, but this isn't honoring the memory of what you lost. This is just wasting the man you are. We’re going out tonight. Get up. Shower. Shave. If you can’t face your life, at least go face the noise.”
Hunter resisted, but the sheer force of Erick’s pragmatic kindness eventually broke through the inertia. He knew Erick was right. He couldn't keep sinking. He needed a distraction, an oblivion, a place where he could forget the empty nursery and the promise of what might have been. He desperately needed to feel nothing. Or perhaps, just one last time, to feel anything.
The Dual Existence
Back in her sterile university apartment, Lanna prepared for her transformation. This wasn't just about putting on a dress; it was about stripping away the burden of her identity.
She removed the glasses and studied her reflection. The woman staring back had the delicate ferocity of a wild cat—beautiful, poised, and utterly vibrant. She carefully styled her long brown hair, letting it flow free and straight down her back. She applied makeup with the precision of an artist, enhancing her large green eyes and painting her lips a vibrant, challenging red.
The final piece was the dress: a shimmering, high-end garment that revealed her curves and exuded confidence. This was Lanna Haze, the anonymous beauty who was unburdened by the Haze name and the Instyle legacy. She was a woman who didn't exist in the light of day. She had money, yes, but tonight, she spent it on freedom, not status.
“Ready to be bad?” Brenna asked, swinging by the apartment, looking equally glamorous.
Lanna gave a slow, predatory smile—the kind Jacob would never see. “Ready to disappear. Ready to be nothing but a beautiful distraction.”
In the city, Hunter Strauss, now clean-shaven and dressed in dark, expensive clothes chosen by Erick, felt a dull thrum of pain and emptiness. Lanna Haze, vibrant and seeking oblivion, felt a delicious anticipation for a night without consequence. Both were running from their grief and their realities. Both were heading to the same neon-lit destination, set on a collision course that would change their worlds forever.
