Ruined To Ruthless: Rise Of The Broken Heir

Chapter 1: The Fall

Brian Ashton’s hands trembled as he pushed open the towering glass doors of Davenport Industries. 

The lobby was a cathedral of wealth: marble floors, gold-plated elevators, and walls lined with abstract art that screamed status. To anyone else, it was magnificent. To him, it was a cage.

“Mr. Ashton,” a receptionist chirped, her smile polite but hollow. “Your, uh, meeting is ready.”

He forced a nod, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth. Every step toward the executive suite felt like walking on shards of glass. 

Three years of loyalty, endless sacrifices, countless nights staying late to cover for mistakes he hadn’t made, and this was how he was treated. Always as if he were invisible.

“Good morning, Brian,” came a voice dripping with ice. Clarissa Davenport, his wife, leaned against the mahogany conference table. 

Her hair was perfect, her designer suit immaculate. Every inch of her radiated power and cruelty. “Morning,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

“Sit,” she said, pointing to the leather chair opposite her. Brian obeyed.

“Before we begin,” she smiled thinly, “let me remind you how fortunate you’ve been. Richard.”

She glanced at her father, who lounged in the corner like a lion surveying a wounded gazelle “We’ve supported you for years. You’ve had every opportunity to rise. Yet somehow, you’ve managed to disappoint us at every turn.”

Brian felt his chest tighten. “I, I did everything you asked.”

“Everything,” Richard Davenport echoed, voice calm, precise. “Including trusting you to handle finances. And yet…” He tapped the papers in front of him. “Here we are. Missing funds. Embezzlement. Care to explain?”

“I, I didn’t, ” Brian stammered, panic clawing at his throat. “I don’t know where, ”

“Enough,” Clarissa snapped. Her perfect veneer cracked, and fury glittered in her eyes. “We trusted you. We gave you everything. And you betrayed us.”

Brian’s stomach twisted. Betrayal? He had done nothing wrong. Every transaction he’d executed, every report he’d filed, every sleepless night, all for them. And now he was the criminal.

“Brian,” Richard’s voice dropped low, menacingly calm, “you are hereby suspended pending investigation. And law enforcement will be notified immediately.”

Brian’s hands fell to his sides. Suspended? Investigation? The words felt like stones being piled on his chest.

“Please,” he whispered. “You have to believe me. I didn’t.”

Clarissa laughed, cruel and bright, like glass shattering. “Believe you? Brian, we’ve known the truth all along. You’re convenient, you’re weak, and you think loyalty will save you. But loyalty to fools gets you nowhere.”

A secretary entered, holding a stack of documents. “Sir, officers are here to escort Mr. Ashton.”

Brian’s heart thumped. He had imagined this day a thousand times, but never like this. Never with the cold satisfaction on their faces.

“Brian,” Clarissa said softly, almost sweetly, “you’ve always been so eager to please. It’s tragic, really. But some lessons… must be learned the hard way.”

One officer stepped forward, handcuffs glinting. Brian felt his world narrow. The floor beneath him seemed to tilt. 

The glass walls, the marble, the golden elevators, everything mocked him. He had been nothing, and now they were finally stripping him of even the pretense of dignity.

“Why?” His voice was raw. “I gave everything. Everything I had.”

Clarissa’s smile widened. “And that was exactly why you were so easy to break.”

Brian’s eyes darted to Richard, searching for a shred of mercy, but found only cold calculation. His mind raced. ‘I’m innocent. They’re lying. There has to be a way.’

The officer’s hand was on his arm. Brian tried to fight, but even resistance felt pointless. 

He had been broken for years in subtle ways: humiliation in meetings, whispered jokes, being passed over, mocked, treated like a fool. 

Now, it ended with the same invisible hand that had controlled him all along. As they led him through the lobby, the receptionist looked up briefly, feigning concern. But Brian caught the glance.

The same look she always gave him when he made mistakes. He realized then: no one here cared. Not a single person.

Out on the steps, the city’s wind hit him. For a moment, he felt free. Briefly. But reality pressed down harder than ever. 

Cameras clicked. Reporters whispered. He was a spectacle, a cautionary tale. He was shoved into the back of a police car. 

The door slammed. His reflection in the tinted window showed a man who had loved too much, served too much, and now had nothing. 

His hands were cuffed, his dignity stripped, and the world seemed to turn without him.

Inside the station, the fluorescent lights were harsh. The smell of disinfectant stung his nose. He sat in a cell, alone. 

A place colder than any marble office he had ever known. The clang of the gate felt final. “Just wait,” he whispered to himself, fists tightening. “Just wait until this is over.”

But even as he said it, fear gnawed at him. He had no money, no allies, no way to fight back. He was nothing.

And yet beneath the despair, a spark flickered. A small ember of defiance. Brian may have been broken today, but he could feel it deep in his chest: he was not finished.

He pressed his forehead against the cold metal bars. Outside, the city carried on, oblivious to his suffering. Inside, his mind began to churn, plotting silently. 

The ones who had betrayed him, they would pay. Every insult, every slight, every lie. He would rise. But first, he had to survive the fall, and the fall had only just begun.