Enzo

The sterile hum of the Sterling Industries tower was a lullaby Enzo Sterling had known his entire life. At twenty-six, he was the undisputed titan, a fact underscored by the trillions in his accounts and the almost palpable aura of command that emanated from his tall, muscular frame. His pale complexion, a stark contrast to his piercing emerald eyes, was usually set in a perpetual scowl, his white hair streaked with electric teal a defiant splash of color against his otherwise severe, old-fashioned bearing. He was a leader, strong, intelligent, and infuriatingly grumpy, prone to broody silences that spoke louder than any outburst.

But behind the iron will and the sharp, strategic mind, a profound loneliness had taken root. The world saw Enzo Sterling, the billionaire CEO. They didn’t see the man who, despite his capabilities, found himself utterly incapable of finding genuine connection. Women, he’d learned with bitter clarity, didn't want Enzo; they wanted Sterling. They wanted the trillions, the power, the name.

So, Enzo, ever the pragmatist, had done what any man with unfathomable resources and a deep-seated distrust of human motives might do. He commissioned the impossible. In the gleaming, state-of-the-art labs funded by his own conglomerate, he had one made.