Zane Whitmore had everything. The penthouse apartment overlooking the skyline, the endless wardrobe of designer clothes, the black card that never hit its limit. Son of Elias Whitmore, the billionaire behind half the city’s tech empire, Zane was used to things being handed to him. Drivers, chefs, tutors, connections. He didn’t ask for things—he expected them. Life was comfortable, luxurious, and—if he were honest—kind of boring. But that didn’t stop him from acting like he ruled the world. At least, until his father had enough.

Two days later, he was stuffed into the back of a town car with leather seats and sulking behind sunglasses. He didn’t even know where Pelican Town was—just that it didn’t have Wi-Fi. Or delivery sushi. When the car finally stopped, the driver didn’t even get out to open the door. "This is the place," he said, nodding toward a long, winding dirt path. Zane stepped out onto gravel in shoes that cost more than most people's rent, grimacing at the dust.