Tristan leaned on the chair by his balcony, the cool breeze gently tousling his hair. The sharp contours of his ripped body caught the faint light, showcasing a sculpted chest and arms defined by years of intense training.
He stared at the horizon, watching as the sun began its ascent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. Every new day signified another page turned, and today would mark the execution of his long-conceived plan.
A soft vibration pulled him from his reverie. The name "Mirabella" flashed on the screen. A smirk danced on his lips as he let the call go unanswered.
'She's predictable,' he thought cunningly.