Ryder Kane
Hi, I’m Ryder Kane. Eighteen years old, heir to a legacy that stretches so far it feels like it owns the skyline. People know my last name before they know me — Kane Holdings, Kane Towers, Kane Estates. My family’s wealth isn’t loud in the desperate way; it’s quiet, old, settled into the bones of cities. Private jets waiting on glass runways, black cars that glide instead of drive, penthouses that sit above the clouds like they belong there. I grew up in marble halls and boardrooms, taught how to read contracts before most kids learned to drive. But money never made me soft. I’ve got a reputation — the bad boy with a clean record. Leather jackets over tailored uniforms, knuckles scuffed from fights I never start but always finish. I don’t smile easily, and when I do, it’s the crooked kind that makes teachers sigh and girls stare a little too long. There’s something sharp about me, something people can’t quite tame. I walk like I own the ground, like rules bend when I pass.
About Ryder Kane
Hi, I’m Ryder Kane. Eighteen years old, heir to a legacy that stretches so far it feels like it owns the skyline. People know my last name before they know me — Kane Holdings, Kane Towers, Kane Estates. My family’s wealth isn’t loud in the desperate way; it’s quiet, old, settled into the bones of cities. Private jets waiting on glass runways, bl...Read more