2025-04-14 03:40:46Nolan stepped into the house, his steps were heavy with exhaustion. The day at work had been long and frustrating.
He dropped his briefcase by the couch and loosened his tie. The scent of freshly cooked food welcomed him, and for a moment, it brought a small sense of comfort. He walked into the dining area, and as usual, his lunch was neatly arranged on the table—grilled steak, creamy mashed potatoes, buttered corn on the cob, and a cold glass of iced tea. Everything looked perfect—but the silence in the house was too loud to ignore. It seemed everyone else was busy with whatever they were doing. He sat down and began to eat slowly, lost in thought. Every bite tasted like ash. His mind wasn't with the food. His chest felt heavy. The picture of Evelyn smashing cake in his face at La Bella Noire about two days ago haunted him. The laughter. The mockery. The shame. After finishing the meal, he stepped out to the backyard pool area, lit a cigar, and sank into the poolside recliner. The evening breeze was cool, but the fire in his chest was hotter than ever. Now in the bedroom, he puffed out smoke, staring into the dark sky. “What happened to us?” he whispered. Nolan and Evelyn's love once filled every corner of the house. Now, all he had were cold walls, busy servants and fading memories. He looked toward the balcony of their bedroom—the same balcony where they once shared wine, laughter, sex and dreams. That balcony was now nothing but a ghost of what used to be. For the past week, Evelyn had changed. She had become distant, cold, and secretive. It started just days before the Rhys Tech Ascendancy Gala. At first, he thought it was stress. But now… he wasn’t sure anymore. He picked up his phone and dialed her number again. It was the thirtieth time he had called in the last two days. No answer. No texts. No explanation. It was 8 PM already. And Evelyn hadn’t been home for two days. The luxury duplex they once shared as husband and wife now felt like a hotel room. Empty. Soulless. Despite everything—even after the public humiliation—Nolan still cared. Deep down, he still loved her. That was the most painful part. He lay back, his eyes closed, trying to calm the storm in his mind. But he couldn't sleep. Couldn't think straight. By 11 PM, headlights flashed through the gate. A black Range Rover pulled into the compound. Nolan sat up. He watched from the shadows as the car door opened. Evelyn stepped out—dressed in a body-hugging red gown, with heels clicking against the pavement like she was walking a fashion runway. Her perfume drifted through the air, strong and sweet. She didn’t even look in his direction. Just then, Nolan, who had been standing nearby finishing a phone call with a production staff, turned and spotted her too. He narrowed his eyes. “Evelyn?” Nolan said, surprised. Evelyn brushed past him like he wasn’t there, walking straight toward the entrance without a word. Despite being greeted respectfully by the servants, she moved with calm arrogance, her heels were clicking against the tiled floor as if the world around her didn’t exist. Nolan watched in silence as she disappeared up the stairs. His heart was heavy. For a few minutes, he stayed frozen, overwhelmed by a mixture of confusion, worry, and pain. Eventually, he made up his mind and followed her. By the time he reached the upper sitting room, Evelyn had already dropped her designer handbag on the glass table and was unzipping her heels. That’s when he spoke, his voice was deep, tired, and shaking with emotion. “Where the hell have you been all this while?” His words echoed through the room like thunder, cutting through the tense silence that followed. Evelyn froze, her back was still turned to Nolan, one heel halfway off her foot. Nolan took a step closer, his voice rising. "I said, where the hell have you been all this while?" She spun around sharply. "And why do you care so much, Nolan?!" she barked, her voice was sharp and fiery. "You really want to know where I’ve been? Why?!" Nolan’s jaw tightened. His voice cracked with emotion. "For goodness’ sake, you are my wife! Why shouldn’t I care where you’ve been for the past two days?!" Evelyn didn’t answer. She focused on removing her shoes, calm but distant. Nolan stared at her, his fists clenched. "And what about what happened in the restaurant, huh? At the La Bella Noire? You smashed a cake in my face in front of everyone like I was some kind of joke!" He stepped forward, his eyes were burning. "I’m your husband, Evelyn. Or have you forgotten?" Evelyn stood up slowly and turned to face him. Her expression was cold. Distant. Unapologetic. "If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll do worse than that, Nolan. Way worse." Those words hit Nolan like a slap to the soul. He staggered back slightly, heart pounding, trying to make sense of it all. "What’s wrong with you, Evelyn?!" he snapped. "What the hell happened to you?! You’ve been acting like a stranger for over a week now. Cold. Silent. Secretive. Why?" She didn’t respond. Instead, she picked up her handbag and turned to leave the sitting room. But Nolan wasn’t done. He stepped forward, reached out instinctively—but stopped himself just before touching her. He closed his fist in midair, swallowing the heat burning in his chest. "Is it that damn Zahir Malikyan? Has Zahir Malikyan started whispering lies in your ear, making you think he’s better than me?!" Evelyn’s eyes widened. She yanked her arm free, with fire dancing in her gaze. "Don’t you dare talk about the Zahir Malikyan like that," she warned, her voice was low and threatening. "He’s more of a man than you ever were, Nolan. And yes—YES, I have been spending time with him these past two days." She stepped closer, her words were like daggers. "And I swear to God, those have been the best days of my life." Nolan’s vision went red—he felt the urge to slap Evelyn, but somehow he chose not to act. He simply turned away, fists shaking, jaw clenched so tight his face ached. He had never felt so disrespected. So humiliated. So broken. Evelyn watched him silently for a second. Then pulled her handbag open with grace, composure, and the finality of a woman with no regrets. "You know what, I am beginning to grow tired of you in this house, acting as if you are some guard dog who is so concerned about every fucking step I take." she said coldly. "I’m calling my lawyer." Nolan’s head jerked up. "Evelyn—" But she was already dialing. "Hello, Barrister Louis?" she said smoothly, almost too calmly. “Yes, Mrs Evelyn,” came the voice on the other end. “I want to file for a divorce. First thing tomorrow morning.” Nolan froze. “What?” he whispered as disbelief was etched across his face. He couldn't believe his ears.
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Nolan nodded.“Yes. It’s risky. It might not work. But… it might buy us time. It might give us one more chance.”Strauss took a step closer.His expression changed.From calm…To curious.To hopeful.He looked Nolan straight in the eye.“We’re being drained again! There is another breach on Wallet Node C!”Gasps filled the air.A flurry of keystrokes followed. The screens lit up with red alerts. One of the analysts shoved his chair back and sprinted to another console.“They’ve bypassed the second firewall!”“No, no, no! How is that even possible?!”“We need to shut it all down! Now! Before they drain the reserve pool too!”Timothy Strauss’s calm cracked ever so slightly—his jaw tightened. But he didn’t move.Nolan gripped the flash drive tighter. Every instinct in him screamed run. Hide. Protect what's yours. He had fought too hard, suffered too long. That flash drive held his redemption.But then his eyes fell on the youngest techie—barely out of college maybe—who had frozen at his
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The silence after Nolan’s outburst hung heavy in the air.Then, without a word, the fashionistas moved again. No one looked offended or shocked anymore. They had expected resistance.One of the assistants walked forward and gently lifted the assistant Nolan had pushed down. The man nodded calmly, dusting himself as if nothing had happened.Jean-Maurice raised one hand, giving a small signal.From behind the line of fashion experts, a young man in black gloves rolled a wheelchair into the room.It was sleek—dark leather with chrome linings and smooth tires that didn’t make a sound.Jean-Maurice turned to Nolan and said gently, “It’s time to move, Mr. Nolan.”Nolan didn’t move at first. He stared at the wheelchair as if it were something out of a dream—or a trap.Then two of the assistants stepped forward again. This time, Nolan didn’t fight.He allowed them to guide him. One of them held his arm gently while the other supported his back. Even though his body ached, they moved with su
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Nolan sat up slowly on the hospital bed, wincing at the pull of pain in his side.In his hand was a small mirror. He raised it to his face.What stared back at him was the grotesque shape of his battered face.His skin was covered with brownish iodine stains. Cotton wool pads pressed gently against bruised cheekbones, held in place by white plasters. A long cut across his forehead had been stitched. One of his eyes was swollen. His lips, cracked and dry. His face… it looked like a map of pain.He looked at himself in silence, his eyes slowly filling with something deeper than pain—shame… anger… and loss.A soft knock came at the door, followed by a gentle push.A tall man in a white coat stepped in. It was Dr. Emerson—the physician in charge of his care all this while.“Mr. Rhys,” the doctor said gently. “I won’t lie to you. The injuries to your face were severe. But tomorrow, we’re going to do something about it. A cosmetic surgery. You need it… not just for how you look, but to hel
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Nolan didn’t speak right away.He turned his face slightly, avoiding Mr. Strauss’s eyes.Then, quietly, he asked, “Why… why do you want to know me? Is it that necessary?”Mr. Strauss leaned in a little closer, his voice was calm and sincere. “Come on, Nolan. Is there anything wrong with knowing the man who just saved my company from going bankrupt?”There was a long silence.Then Nolan sighed—a deep, tired sigh.“My name is Nolan Rhys,” he said slowly. “That is all.”Mr. Strauss raised his eyebrows. “That is all?”He looked truly surprised.Something in Nolan’s voice, something in his eyes… it made it clear that there was more. A secret. A truth Nolan didn’t want to share.Strauss tilted his head, studying him carefully.“Nolan,” he began again, his voice was a bit softer now. “I noticed the belt. That Hermès Mini Athena Belt. That’s no cheap item.”He paused.“And the way you spoke. The way you handled the system. You weren’t fumbling. You knew what you were doing. Like someone who’
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The next day. The system was holding steady, but the damage had already been done.In the main recovery room of Timothy Strauss mansion, Nolan lay on the white hospital bed, his left hand was connected to a drip. The IV fluid bag hung above him, slowly feeding his exhausted body. Not to mention that his face had been swollen all this while. He was now receiving another round of medical treatment—fresh medication to ease the pain and speed up his healing.Cotton wool pressed into the deep cuts on his temple and chin. His right cheek had a fresh plaster on it—pink and puffy. Ever since he was picked up close to the trash bin, he looked like someone who had walked through hell and barely made it out alive.But the real scars weren’t the ones the eye could see.As Nolan stared at the ceiling, the world around him felt distant—muted. The faint beeping of the heart monitor beside him, the soft hiss of the oxygen tube near his nose, the gentle rhythm of the drip—all of it felt like backgr
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Nolan nodded.“Yes. It’s risky. It might not work. But… it might buy us time. It might give us one more chance.”Strauss took a step closer.His expression changed.From calm…To curious.To hopeful.He looked Nolan straight in the eye.“We’re being drained again! There is another breach on Wallet Node C!”Gasps filled the air.A flurry of keystrokes followed. The screens lit up with red alerts. One of the analysts shoved his chair back and sprinted to another console.“They’ve bypassed the second firewall!”“No, no, no! How is that even possible?!”“We need to shut it all down! Now! Before they drain the reserve pool too!”Timothy Strauss’s calm cracked ever so slightly—his jaw tightened. But he didn’t move.Nolan gripped the flash drive tighter. Every instinct in him screamed run. Hide. Protect what's yours. He had fought too hard, suffered too long. That flash drive held his redemption.But then his eyes fell on the youngest techie—barely out of college maybe—who had frozen at his
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Inside the room, chaos continued.The six men at the laptops were now speaking over each other.“We should freeze all trading pairs until we stabilize the token!” one man shouted.“No! That’ll make things worse. People will panic more if they can’t withdraw!”“We need to contact the cold wallet custodian. Tell him to move everything to multisig.”“I already tried—he’s not answering!”“Call Jonah! He knows the fallback code for the vault system!”“I did! His number isn’t going through!”Another man cursed loudly and slammed his palm on the desk. “We’re running out of time! We need help!”One of them picked up his phone and dialed fast. He waited, pacing back and forth.“Come on, answer... please answer,” he muttered.Another man had both hands pressed against his forehead. His eyes were red, his voice weak. “My wife just sent a message. She saw the crash on the news. She’s asking if we’ll be okay…”The pressure was heavy. Too heavy.Everyone was talking, trying, shouting, hoping.But n
