Adrian Cole climbed the stairs slowly, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. When he reached the small room at the end…which was barely larger than a closet, with a narrow bed and a single window…he sat down on the edge of the thin mattress.
He pulled out his phone again. His fingers moved quickly across the screen, pulling up his contact list.
“Marcus , it’s me,” he said when the call connected. “You’ve all done a great job—everyone’s year-end bonus will be doubled. As for the officials who helped process the IPO… make sure they’re taken care of. Give them generous bonuses, gifts, whatever’s appropriate. Don’t let anyone think we’re ungrateful.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll handle it personally.”
“And one more thing.” Adrian Cole paused, staring at the wall. “I want you to start the transfer paperwork for SunCore Publishing. Put everything under Victoria’s name. All of it.”
Marcus hesitated. “SunCore? Sir, are you for real? That was the very first company you built with your own hands—it means everything to you. You’re really going through with this?”
“I’m certain. She finally achieved the dream she’s been chasing all these years. As her partner, I’m willing to support her—one company doesn’t mean that much. Just make it happen, Marcus .”
“Understood. I’ll have the documents ready by next week.”
Adrian Cole hung up and felt something like relief wash over him. Maybe this would show her. Maybe she’d finally see how much he believed in her, how much he’d always believed in her.
And tonight he will finally be able to tell her about his true identity. There will be no more secrets between them.
He checked his watch. Six-thirty. If he hurried, he could still make something special.
……
Two hours later, the dining room looked different.
Adrian Cole had pulled out the good china…the set Mrs Stone only used for important guests. Candles flickered on the table, casting soft shadows across the white tablecloth. He’d cooked everything himself: pasta and roasted chicken the way Victoria liked it, and also fish with chips and ketchup.
The house was quiet. Mrs Stone had left an hour ago with her friends, they said something about an emergency meeting at someone’s salon. Adrian Cole didn’t care. For once, he was grateful for her absence.
He set the last dish down and stepped back to look at everything. It was perfect.
He pulled out his phone and called Victoria.
The phone rang. And rang. And rang. Then it went to voicemail.
He frowned and tried again.
Still nothing.
On the third attempt, he paced across the kitchen, listening to the endless ringing. Pick up, he thought. Please just pick up.
On the fourth call, someone answered.
“Hello?” A man’s voice. It sounded deep and amused.
Adrian Cole stopped mid-step. “Who… who is this?”
“Who’s this?” the man shot back, laughing. Then, away from the phone: “Victoria! There is a man calling for you.”
Again?
Adrian Cole’s hand tightened around the phone. “This is Victoria's number. Why are you…”
“Adrian Cole.” Victoria’s voice came through, sharp and irritated. “What do you want?”
His chest loosened slightly at the sound of her voice, but something felt wrong. “I’ve been trying to reach you. I wanted to…”
“I’m working,” she interrupted. “Do you understand what that means? I don’t have time for this right now.”
“I know, I know you’re busy. I just…” He took a breath, tried to steady himself. “I prepared dinner for us. Your mother’s out for the evening, so it’s just the two of us. I thought we could celebrate together. When will you be home?”
There was a pause. He could hear voices in the background, music, and laughter.
“I can’t come home tonight,” she said flatly. “There’s a celebration banquet for the company. I have to be there. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
“Victoria, wait…”
The line went dead.
Adrian Cole stood there in the kitchen, phone still pressed to his ear, listening to the silence. Around him, the candles continued to flicker. The food was getting cold.
He set the phone down on the counter and just stood there, staring at all of it. The fancy dishes. The effort. The stupid hope he’d let himself feel.
His phone buzzed.
A message. From an unknown number.
He opened it without thinking.
It was a video.
The screen showed a crowded room…elegant, expensive-looking, full of people in suits and cocktail dresses. And there, in the center of it all, was Victoria.
She was laughing, her head tilted back, her hand resting on a man’s chest tangled in a passionate kiss. It was the same man from the press conference photo. Vincent .
Adrian Cole’s stomach dropped.
The video continued. Vincent pulled something from his pocket…a small box. The crowd around them started cheering, phones out, recording everything. He opened the box, revealing a ring that caught the light like a tiny star.
“Victoria,” Vincent’s voice came through clearly, confident and smooth, “will you marry me?”
The room erupted.
And Victoria…his wife, his Victoria…smiled. Not the polite smile she gave to business partners or the tired smile she gave him when she came home late. This was different. It was genuine and radiant.
“Yes,” she said.
Vincent slid the ring onto her finger, then pulled her close and kissed her again. The crowd cheered louder, champagne glasses clinking, people shouting congratulations.
The video ended.
Adrian Cole’s hands were shaking. How was this even possible? The woman he’d loved for three years—the wife he’d given up an entire business empire for, the one he’d shrunk his world down to this tiny apartment for, cooking and building a life with her—how could she agree to marry someone else?
This couldn’t be real. It had to be some kind of mistake, some misunderstanding. Maybe it was just a publicity stunt. It had to be—nothing else made sense.
He grabbed the phone again and called her number.
The number you have dialed is currently switched off.
He tried again.
The number you have dialed is currently switched off.
And again.
The number you have dialed…
He threw the phone down.
For a long moment, he just stood there in the flickering candlelight, surrounded by the meal he’d spent hours preparing, trying to breathe through the crushing weight in his chest.
………-
Across the city, in a hotel suite with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline, Victoria lay tangled in silk sheets.
Vincent traced a finger along her shoulder, his touch lazy and possessive. “You accepted the ring,” he murmured against her neck, “but you’re not wearing it.”
Victoria’s eyes were half-closed, her breathing still uneven. “It’s not appropriate yet.”
“Not appropriate?” He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with that slight smile. “We’re engaged now. What’s inappropriate about wearing your engagement ring?”
“I’m still married, Vincent.” She reached for the ring box on the nightstand, opening it to admire the diamond that caught the city lights. “But not for much longer. I’m giving him the papers tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” His smile widened. “Finally.”
“The IPO is done. I don’t need to keep up appearances anymore.” She snapped the box closed with a satisfied click. “Three years of playing the dutiful wife was more than enough.”
Vincent laughed, pulling her back against him. “And here I thought you were getting sentimental.”
“Sentimental?” Victoria’s laugh was cold. “About Adrian? He’s been useful, I’ll give him that. Cooking, cleaning, keeping my mother entertained. But let’s be honest…I outgrew him the moment my company took off.” Victoria smiled, completely unbothered. “You helped make my IPO possible. You’re powerful, successful, connected. That’s what I need. Not some house husband who thinks moping floors is a career.”
“After everything I did for you,” Vincent murmured, his fingers tracing her collarbone, “I certainly deserve more than pretty words.”
“You’ll get everything you deserve,” Victoria said, her smile razor-sharp. “Once I’m officially free.”
“What if he refuses?”
Victoria’s laugh was dismissive. “He won’t. He’s too pathetic to fight back. He’ll sign them, cry about it, and disappear. Just like he’s done with everything else in his miserable life.”
She settled back into Vincent’s arms, feeling nothing but satisfaction.
Tomorrow, she'll end it.
And she wouldn’t waste a single moment feeling guilty about it.
Latest Chapter
The meeting
Adrian sat in his home office, staring at his phone like it might suddenly provide answers.Three days.Three days since Sophia had kissed him and then fled from his car . Three days of silence that felt heavier with each passing hour.He’d given her space at first because he assumed that she needed time to calm down after what happened and his presence might be embarrassing for herBut now the silence was becoming unbearable, somewhere along the line he had gotten used to her presence and he didn’t know what to do with this silence.Adrian picked up his phone and pulled up Sophia’s contact. His thumb hovered over the call button for a long moment.Then he pressed it.The phone rang once. Twice. Then…“The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please try again later.”Adrian frowned and tried again.Same result.He checked his signal. Full bars. He tried calling Marcus just to make sure his phone was working. It went through immediately.So Sophia’s phone was either o
One crisis at a time
The slides were well-designed, the data was organized, the business model was clearly articulated. This wasn’t some half-baked scheme thrown together to impress her. This looked like Derek had actually put in real work.“So the concept is this,” Derek began, his enthusiasm genuine now rather than performative. “I’ve noticed a gap in the market for mid-tier corporate event planning. Most companies either go super high-end with massive budgets, or they go cheap with generic hotel conference rooms. But there’s a huge market of businesses that want quality events without breaking the bank.”He swiped through slides showing market research, competitor analysis, pricing strategies.“I’ve already made preliminary contacts with several vendors…caterers, AV companies, venue managers. And I’ve put together a sample package that I think could really work.”Sophia found herself actually paying attention. The numbers looked reasonable. The target market was well-defined. The competitive advantage
A changed man?
Derek leaned forward, his expression shifting from exaggerated enthusiasm to something more serious. More genuine, if Sophia could believe it.“Look, Sophia,” he began, his voice dropping to a more normal volume. “I know I’ve been… I haven’t been the best cousin to you. Especially over the past few years.”Sophia blinked, surprised by the admission. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting.“I’ve been selfish,” Derek continued, his hands clasped on the table. “I’ve only called when I needed something. Money, connections, favors. And when your company went under, when you actually needed support, I…” He stopped, seeming to struggle with the words. “I wasn’t there. I disappeared like everyone else.”Sophia didn’t know what to say. Derek had never acknowledged any of this before. Had never admitted to being anything less than a supportive family member.“And the way I treated you at that gala,” Derek went on, his voice thick with what sounded like genuine regret. “Mocking you. Laughing at y
Family Obligations
Sophia closed her laptop with a sigh, leaning back in her office chair and rubbing her temples.The meeting had lasted three hours. Three exhausting hours of going over the SunCore proposal line by line, adjusting projections, refining technical specifications, debating strategy with her team. It was good work…important work…but it had drained every ounce of energy she had.Her office was quiet now, the rest of her small team having left an hour ago. Outside the windows, the city lights were beginning to flicker on as evening settled in.Sophia’s eyes drifted to her phone sitting on the desk.Three days.It had been three days since the gala. Three days since she’d kissed Adrian and then run away like a terrified teenager. Three days of radio silence between them.She’d wanted to call. Had picked up her phone probably fifty times, typed out messages she never sent, stared at his contact information while her thumb hovered over the call button.But what would she even say?Sorry I kiss
The decision
Marcus was scanning further down the list, his pleasant expression completely gone now. “Manufacturing capacity. Supply chain infrastructure. Logistics networks.” His hands trembled slightly as he turned pages. “They control… they could shut down production of essential goods across four continents if they wanted to.”Elizabeth’s face had gone pale. “Real estate holdings. They own the land under…” She stopped, her throat working. “They own the ground beneath seventeen of our family’s flagship developments. We’ve been paying them lease fees without even realizing it.”Victor was already cross-referencing on his tablet, his fingers moving frantically. “Media companies. Content distribution platforms. Advertising networks. Social media infrastructure.” He looked up, genuine fear in his eyes for the first time in years. “They could control the narrative on anything. Make any story disappear or amplify it to a global scale.”“Banking,” Richard said quietly, drawing their attention back to
The Five Families
The room was buried three levels underground, beneath one of the most expensive buildings in the city’s financial district. There were no windows or natural light. Just cold LED strips casting harsh shadows across a table carved from a single piece of black marble.Five people sat around that table, each representing generations of accumulated power and ruthless ambition. Between them, they controlled systems that were so important to modern civilization that opposing them was tantamount to declaring war on reality itself.These were the Five Families.At the head of the table sat Richard Blackwood, patriarch of the Blackwood dynasty. He was seventy-two years old but sharp as a blade, with iron-gray hair and eyes like chips of ice. The Blackwoods controlled finance…banks, investment firms, hedge funds, currency exchanges. If money moved anywhere in the world, they took a percentage. They decided who got loans and who went bankrupt. Who prospered and who drowned in debt.To his right s
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