2025-08-17 01:44:03Adrian stood in the living room, the divorce papers still warm from his signature. Lisa’s question still hung in the air; “You have no money, no job, no single penny in your leaking pocket. How the fuck are you gonna afford that kid’s shoes, let alone her future? Huh? Tell me, loser!”
Clearly, she was not asking because she cared. This was just mockery.
“That’s not your concern, Lisa,” he replied, voice low, like a storm brewing far off.
Lisa leaned forward, her smirk sharp as a blade. “Oh, please, Adrian. You’re a nobody. A broke-ass nobody. You think you can play daddy without Vanessa’s cash? Well, good luck with that. You’ll only come back later to beg for money for feeding. The streets ain’t funny.” She tossed her hair, her designer earrings glinting like they were laughing too.
Before Adrian could respond, a small voice piped up from the hallway. “You’re a bad woman, Lisa!” Aria stood there, barefoot in her pajamas, clutching her stuffed bunny. Her eyes were wide, brimming with tears, but her chin jutted out, defiant. “Daddy’s not a loser!”
Lisa’s face twisted, her laugh turning venomous. “Oh, look at this. The little brat speaks.” She stepped closer, towering over Aria. “Listen to me, you’re a kid nobody wants, you know that? Not even your own mommy cares about you. Nobody like you and your daddy, and you, little one, are just an arrogant little bitch like your annoying daddy!”
Aria’s face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks. Lisa’s words hurt her deeply. She hugged her bunny tighter, a sob breaking free. This made Adrian’s blood roar in his veins, his calm shattering like the plates Vanessa smashed last night. He stepped between Lisa and Aria, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“Lisa, apologize to her. NOW. Don't make me ask twice.”
Lisa scoffed, crossing her arms. “Apologize? To that little bastard? Why should I? Her own mother doesn’t even love her.” She sneered, her words dripping with cruelty. “Face it, Adrian, you’re both dead weight and you’re the ones drawing Vanessa backwards.”
The air snapped taut, like a wire about to break. Aria cried even louder, her tears now soaking up her bunny. It was loud, but the pain behind her voice was deep, silent yet shattering. Adrian looked at the tears on his little girl’s face. That was it. He’d had enough of this nonsense. His hand moved before he could think,
Slap!
A sharp crack echoing as his palm met Lisa’s cheek. She stumbled back, clutching her face, her eyes wide with shock. “You can mock me all you want,” Adrian said, his voice cold as ice, “but you don’t ever… EVER… talk about my daughter like that. Cross that line again, Lisa, and you’re done. You’d regret the day my name got registered into your sloth brain.”
Lisa’s mouth opened, then closed, her face flushing red. “You… you hit me!” she shrieked, her voice shrill enough to rattle the windows. “You’re just a poor, pathetic nobody! How dare you touch me?” She fumbled for her phone, probably to call Vanessa or the cops, her hands shaking with rage.
Just before she could dial, a low rumbling sound filled the air — engines, deep and powerful, rolling up outside. Lisa froze, her eyes darting to the window. Adrian didn’t move, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips. He knew that sound. Lisa didn’t.
She stormed to the window, yanking the curtains back. Her jaw dropped. A convoy of luxury cars — sleek, super expensive black Rolls-Royces, polished Bentleys, a gleaming Maybach — lined the street, their chrome catching the morning sun like a row of diamonds.
Not one car, not two, not even three, but four luxurious cars.
Men in tailored suits stood by the doors, their postures rigid, waiting. Lisa’s eyes widened, her smirk returning, smugger than ever. “See this, Adrian?” she said, turning to him, her palm still on her face. “This is Vanessa’s life now. Power. Money. You’ll never touch this world.” Vanessa was so excited and felt like she was on top of the world.
Adrian, however, didn’t answer, he just watched her, his sly smile growing colder.
The front door soon opened, and a man stepped in — tall, handsome, well-built man, his suit cut so sharp it could draw blood. His dark hair was slicked back, not a strand daring to flick out. The watch he wore glinted with understated wealth. Lisa’s breath caught, her eyes practically sparkling. “Oh, my God,” she muttered, smoothing her hair. “That’s gotta be one of Vanessa’s suitors. Look at him. This is what she deserves, Adrian. Not you. Do you now understand? Can you now see that you and Vanessa are not on the same level?”
The man, however, didn’t even glance at Lisa. He crossed the room in long, purposeful strides, stopping in front of Adrian. Then, to Lisa’s shock, he dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “Mr. West,” he said, voice reverent, “I am Marcus, butler of the Cross family. It is an honor to serve you.”
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Chapter 51: Necessary Sacrifices
"Come," Ethan said again, his voice a velvet lure, gesturing toward the far edge of the rooftop. The one that dropped away from the manicured lawns and twinkling neighbor lights, into the endless black maw of the woods beyond. "There's something you need to see. Over here."Samuel hesitated, his small frame rooted to the spot. The boy's mind raced—he could feel it in the way his fingers drummed against the railing, a silent Morse code of panic. Wrong place. Wrong time. Uncle Ethan's not right. Grandpa... he's sick because of him. What if he knows I know? But curiosity, that treacherous spark in every child, warred with the terror. And Ethan knew how to fan it."Don’t be scared, come on. It's just a firefly," Ethan added, injecting a note of boyish wonder into his tone, the kind he'd practiced in front of mirrors to disarm boardrooms full of sharks. "A big one. Glowing like a star that fell too low. You like fireflies, don't you? Remember the ones in the garden last summer? We chased t
Chapter 50: "Come Here Boy"
Ethan didn’t move.The champagne glass slipped completely from his hand this time, shattering against the marble with a dull, final sound. Tiny shards glittered across the floor like splintered stars. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hiss of bubbles dying away.He slowly turned his head.There, framed by the soft yellow light of the hallway, stood Samuel — his sister’s young son. The boy’s knuckles were white where he clutched the balcony railing, eyes wide and trembling, chest rising and falling too fast for someone his age.The two stared at each other for a long, unbearable minute.Ethan’s heart pounded once, twice — then went still, cold as stone. The boy’s gaze said it all. He had heard everything. The phone call. The name “Petrovic.” The talk of death. The truth Ethan had buried beneath smiles and lies.Finally, Samuel turned, reaching for the doorknob. He wanted to run. But Ethan’s voice — smooth and low like a blade sliding free from its sheath — stopped him in his t
Chapter 49: A Little Shadow
The night over the Cross estate was calm — almost too calm. The meeting had ended in roaring approval, wine glasses clinking, laughter echoing through the corridors. Yet upstairs, away from the noise, Ethan Cross’s mind was restless.He walked briskly up the marble staircase, his polished shoes tapping softly against the floor, and made his way to the private balcony overlooking the city. The sprawling skyline glittered below, towers piercing the darkness like shards of gold. It was a view John had loved — one Ethan intended to claim for himself, permanently.He shut the balcony door behind him and slipped a hand into his pocket, drawing out his phone. His fingers trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the electric pulse of ambition surging through him.He dialed a number. It rang twice before a calm, accented voice answered.“Doctor Petrovic speaking.”“Petrovic,” Ethan said, his tone low, almost a growl. “I just came from the meeting. The family believes Father won’t make it. Bu
Chapter 48: The Banquet Of Triumph
The storm from earlier had passed. Ethan, calm once more, leaned back in John Cross’s chair — his chair now, at least in practice. He tapped his fingers against the table, surveying the faces of his gathered relatives like a king studying his court.“Enough of distractions,” he said smoothly, taking a deep breath. “The matter of succession is settled. But a declaration without celebration carries no weight. It is time we show the world where power truly lies. The Cross family will hold a banquet.”The words fell like coins scattered across a table. Excitement rippled through the hall. A banquet was more than a dinner — it was a spectacle, a declaration of dominance, a stage upon which Ethan could present himself as the new axis around which the family revolved.One of the uncles leaned forward eagerly. “Yes, Ethan. You are right. It must not be a small affair. It must be the kind of event that cannot be ignored.”Another chimed in. “We should invite not only our allies, but those who
Chapter 47: A Lesson In Loyalty
The mahogany table in the Cross estate’s great hall gleamed beneath the chandelier’s golden glow.Every chair was filled — uncles, cousins, aunts, spouses, each member of the sprawling Cross family gathered as Ethan had commanded. Their faces reflected a mix of unease and eagerness. Unease because the patriarch, John Cross, lay upstairs unconscious. Eagerness because power was shifting, and they all knew it.Ethan sat at the head of the table where his father once presided. He leaned back slightly in the chair, fingers tapping on the polished surface, his expression calm but calculating. The silence was deliberate. He let them stew in it until the tension grew thick enough to taste.Finally, he spoke. His voice was smooth, carrying a gravity that silenced even the faintest whispers.“As you all know,” he began, “our father’s condition has not improved. In fact… I fear it has worsened. The physicians we’ve summoned have done what they can, but the truth is clear.” He paused, letting hi
Chapter 46: The True Master Chef!
Adrian stepped into the kitchen without a word, the way he always did — calm, steady, unshaken by Fabio’s sneers. The knife that had slipped through Fabio’s fingers only moments ago now rested easily in Adrian’s hand, as though it belonged there. His movements were fluid, almost too natural for someone who supposedly had no business being in a kitchen.The first sound that followed was the crisp, rhythmic tok-tok-tok of blade against board. Onions, tomatoes, herbs — each one fell into neat, uniform slices, not too thin, not too thick. Every cut was purposeful. Within seconds, what had looked like chaos on the counter turned into tidy rows of vegetables, their colors vibrant, their scent already lifting the stale air of the apartment.And Adrian was doing all this without breaking a sweat.Helen, leaning against the doorway, bit back a smile. She had seen glimpses of Adrian’s hidden depth before — the calm way he had carried himself at the fight club, the strength in his fists, the qui
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