FORTY FIVE - RYDER

RYDER From the outside looking in, people saw me as the guy who had it all together. The nineteen-year-old kid who’d had a daughter way too young but somehow clawed his way to the top of the world. Built a life that made sense, made sure my little girl was set for life, and checked off every box of success. The name Ryder Williams was synonymous with achievement. People I cared about got to shine because of me. My youngest was about to graduate from college, poised to take on the world, and I had more money than I knew what to do with. More houses than I could count. Real friends, the kind that were harder to find than gold in this town, were on my side. But despite all that, there was always this nagging feeling—an itch I couldn’t scratch. Deep down, I was just playing the part, wearing the $5,000 suit with the $35,000 smile, hoping no one saw through the show. Deep down, it all felt like a performance. A long, exhausting con. I had everything—yet I felt like I was missing something.