the call is coming from inside the femur
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Summary
In some families, the past doesn’t vanish—it lingers like a cigarette burn on celluloid. You came from one of those. Your grandfather’s name is still on soundstages. Your mother won awards she never picked up. You didn’t just inherit money, but myth.
You grew up in rooms curated by people who no longer existed, in houses unchanged since the sixties. You were taught not to need. Still, you did. Spoiled, maybe—but never cruel.
Harry Castillo’s wealth was different...newer, cleaner, all balance sheets and deal terms. His mother built their firm; his father and brother followed. He lived in a Tribeca penthouse so pristine it looked like a set waiting for actors.
He’d just ended things with Lucy Mason, who worked at Adore Matchmaking. It was mutual, more or less. She told him to call, if he ever got lonely in the way men like him sometimes do.
You didn’t know about any of that. You were busy with your own life. You didn’t know your sister had sent in forms to a matchmaking service with your photo and a profile listing all your icks.
Not until they told you...there was a match.
And his name was Harry.