of their marriage, the billionaire and his statuesque wife made it work, for
decades.
Though she had passed away
suddenly many years earlier, he never
remarried. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall in love again, preferring to
concentrate
on growing his business empire, expanding his philanthropic
pursuits and enjoying the genuinely lovely life he’d earned, alone.
The mogul took out his wallet and slowly removed a creased photograph
of Vanessa. He stared at it, transfixed by the image. Then he started coughing
again. Vigorously.
“You okay, Boss?” inquired one of the pilots from the cockpit.
The billionaire remained silent, looking at the photo.
The entrepreneur and the artist had flown to Rome a few days earlier and
had been mesmerized by the sights, splendor and rarities of The Eternal City.
With hands locked together, taking in the energy and beauty of Rome, they
traversed the cobblestone streets previously
walked by great builders and
noble emperors.
Today was the day they had waited a long time for. This morning they’d
learn
The 20/20/20 Formula
that rested at the core of The 5
AM
Method. The
two students would be taught, with granularity, precisely what to do within
The Victory Hour, that window of opportunity that runs between 5
and 6
AM
,
so they’d consistently enjoy amazing days.
Today they would discover, in intimate detail, how to use their mornings
well, to create a world-class existence.
As
requested by the billionaire, the two stood at the very top of the
Spanish Steps. It was precisely 5
AM
. If you stood on the platform under the
obelisk that’s there and looked down to the steps beneath it, you’d see the
exact spot where the mentor and his two students met on this morning.
The first rays of the Roman sun kissed Trinità
dei Monti as the lovers
looked out over this city of such culture. The early Romans were remarkable
for the grandeur of their visions, for the scale of their buildings and for their
otherworldly ability to construct monuments that betrayed engineering reality.
The two of them could see St. Peter’s Basilica and the tomb of Emperor
Augustus, as well as the Seven Hills that were so central to the protection of
the empire that began as a tiny village on the banks of the Tiber River—and
grew to what now included forty different countries spanning Europe, Asia
and Africa. The air was fragrant with a blend of floral notes and smokiness, as
if a fire were burning in the far distance.
“Buongiorno!” cried a voice amid the tranquility. “Own your morning.
Elevate your life,” the billionaire shouted with the kind of enthusiasm you’d
hear from Roman soldiers on achieving a crucial victory.
Mr. Riley walked into the first embers of the lightfall,
smiling a man in
the magic of life type of smile. He had chosen to wear a pair of chic Italian
sunglasses for this all-important coaching session. He also wore an Italian
windbreaker over a black t-shirt with the initials SPQR emblazoned on it,
black sweatpants and orange running shoes.
“Tutto bene?” he asked cheerfully.
“We’re good,” said the entrepreneur, happily, understanding a few words
of Italian.
“Really good,” offered the artist.
“Big day, cats. Today’s lesson, to be taught to you by me—your cheese-
gulping tonnarelli pasta–gobbling mentor—is all about
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