Crypto Lord: The Digital Dominion System

Chapter 2: The Humiliation

The music pounded through the ballroom like a drum. Each bass note mocked Ethan Cross’s heartbeat. He stood outside the lavish hotel where Damien Holt’s launch party was being held. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

‘Tonight, I’ll get my answers.’

His chest heaved as he stared at the glowing banners plastered across the entrance in bold golden letters read,

“Welcome to the Future: HoltPay Official Launch.”

Ethan’s throat tightened. The words might as well have been knives carved into his skin. ‘My idea. My whitepaper. My dream. And he dares to celebrate it in front of the whole city.’ He gnawled. 

He pushed past the line of guests in expensive suits and glittering gowns. Their perfumes and laughter suffocating him. Every smile looked like mockery. Every clink of a champagne glass sounded like betrayal.

He grinded his teeth. The ballroom shimmered with crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, and holographic projections of the HoltPay logo spinning in the air. Ethan felt like a beggar stepping into a king’s palace. Heads turned the moment he entered and whispers ignited like wildfire.

“There he is…”

“Isn’t that the delivery boy?”

“Didn’t Damien take his girlfriend too?”

Ethan’s jaw locked. He ignored them with his eyes fixed on the stage.

At the center, Damien Holt basked in the spotlight, wearing a custom navy suit and a smile too polished to be real. 

Beside him stood Clara, Ethan’s girlfriend. Or, rather, his ex. Her hand rested delicately on Damien’s arm, her red dress clinging to her like a statement, I’ve upgraded.

Ethan’s stomach dropped. He had prepared for betrayal, but seeing it was more hurting than imagining it.

Clara’s lips curved when her gaze met his. A cruel smirk. She leaned into Damien, whispering something that made him laugh into the microphone.

Rage shot through Ethan’s veins. He shoved his way to the stage, ignoring the murmurs and cameras turning toward him. His voice cracked through the music,

“Damien! You thief!”

The crowd gasped. Silence rippled through the hall.

Damien lowered the microphone, smirking like a predator watching prey. “Ethan Cross. I wondered when you’d crawl in.”

“You stole my whitepaper!” Ethan shouted, pointing a shaking finger. “That system, those codes, you got them from me! Tell them the truth!”

Clara tilted her head, laughing like she was watching a comedy act. Her laughter cut deeper than any blade.

“Truth?” Clara’s voice dripped with venom as she stepped forward. Her heels clicked like gunshots. “The truth is, you’re nothing more than a delivery boy with delusions of grandeur. You think anyone here believes you could design a system like HoltPay?”

The audience erupted with laughter, cruel and sharp.

Ethan’s ears rang. His chest tightened, but he forced himself to speak. “Clara, you know it was mine! You saw me spend nights coding, drafting and testing…”

“Exactly,” she snapped with her eyes narrowing with disdain. “I saw you wasting your life on fantasies instead of providing for us. I was tired of ramen dinners and empty promises. Damien is the future. You’re just a loser.”

The words hit Ethan like a physical blow. His knees nearly buckled.

Damien put an arm around Clara’s waist, pulling her closer, smirking down at Ethan. “See, Ethan, this world doesn’t reward dreamers who can’t deliver. It rewards winners. That’s why Clara chose me. That’s why HoltPay belongs to me. You had an idea but I had the power to make it real.”

Laughter rolled across the hall like thunder. Guests raised glasses in mock toasts, whispering words Ethan could still hear,

“Pathetic.”

“Useless.”

“Clinging to fantasies.”

Security moved in. They were two bulky men in black suits who grabbed Ethan by the arms and dragged him back.

“Get your hands off me!” Ethan shouted, thrashing, but they were immovable walls of muscle.

Damien leaned into the microphone again, his smirk widening. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s not let a bitter nobody ruin our night. Some men are born to change the world. Others…” His eyes locked on Ethan. “…are born to serve it.”

The audience roared with applause.

Clara’s voice pierced above it all, “Go back to your scooter, Ethan! That’s all you’re good for!”

Humiliation scalded him like fire. His body trembled from rage and despair fused together. His father’s words echoed in his head just as Clara's words broke his soul. 

“You’ll never make it. Stop living in fantasies.”

The guards shoved him through the doors and into the cold night. He stumbled onto the pavement as the roar of laughter still clawed at his ears. He fell to his knees. And he slammed his fist against the concrete until his knuckles split.

“Damien…” His voice was hoarse and his throat was raw. “Clara… You’ll regret this.”

The night air bit into his skin, but Ethan barely felt it. Tears blurred his vision, but he refused to let them fall.

He looked back at the glowing hotel, at the banners flaunting his stolen dream. His body shook with the fire of a man stripped of everything.

“They think I’m a loser,” he whispered to himself, the words trembling but sharp as glass. “They think I’m finished. No…”

His voice hardened, echoing in the empty street.

“I swear… I will rise from this hell. I’ll take back what’s mine. And when I do… Damien, Clara, every single one of you who laughed tonight, you’ll crawl beneath my feet.”

The vow burned into his bones, deeper than humiliation, deeper than pain.