The Disgraced Heir: A Trillion-Dollar Revenge

Chapter 5

Adrian Cole couldn't bring himself to accept what he had just witnessed. No matter how hard he tried to make sense of it, his mind refused to cooperate. Isabella had been with another man, and when she saw him standing at the bedroom door, she had slammed it in his face instead of offering an explanation. The betrayal was painful enough, but her reaction made him feel as though their years together had meant nothing to her.

Only the previous day, Isabella had promised to accompany him to a gala event, despite Eleanor Whitmore's strong objections. They had discussed the preparations together, and Adrian had believed that, for once, Isabella was willing to stand up to her mother for their relationship. Then his grandfather's sudden death had thrown the household into chaos, canceling their plans and changing everything before Adrian could understand what was happening.

He couldn't remember having a serious argument with Isabella. They had disagreed over small matters before, but nothing that could explain such a cruel betrayal. If she had simply told him that she no longer wanted to marry him, he might have found a way to accept it, no matter how much it hurt. What he couldn't understand was how she could make promises to him one day and be in another man's arms the next.

Yet the worst part was still the way she had treated him after he caught her.

She had slammed the door in his face.

Adrian stared at the closed wooden door, unable to move. He desperately wanted to believe that he was trapped in a nightmare, that he would wake up and discover that none of this had happened. The expensive tuxedo he wore, the package containing the necklace he had bought for her, and the silence behind the door all felt like pieces of some cruel dream from which he couldn't escape.

Isabella is cheating on me, and she slammed the door in my face.

He repeated the thought in his mind, but it still seemed impossible. He didn't know which part hurt more: discovering that the woman he loved had betrayed him or realizing that she had no intention of explaining herself. His chest tightened as the truth settled over him, leaving him feeling hollow. He had spent years believing that Isabella was different from the rest of the Whitmore family. Now he wondered whether he had simply been too foolish to see what was in front of him.

Before he could gather his thoughts, voices reached him from outside the apartment. At first, they were faint, but they grew louder as the people approached. Adrian recognized the voices and immediately understood the danger he was in. Someone from the household was coming, and if Eleanor discovered that he had returned after being thrown out, she would make sure he regretted it.

He needed to leave immediately.

But his legs refused to cooperate. He remained in front of Isabella's bedroom door, staring at the wood as though it might somehow give him an answer. He knew he shouldn't be there, yet the shock had left him unable to think clearly enough to move.

The apartment door opened, and a woman's voice called from the other side.

“Mistress Isabella? Mistress, Mrs. Whitmore wants to see you.”

Adrian heard footsteps moving farther into the apartment. He tried to force himself to act, but his thoughts were still tangled in the betrayal he had just witnessed. He couldn't understand why he remained frozen in place while danger approached, or why the pain in his chest seemed to matter more than his own safety.

“Who's there?” one of the guards suddenly demanded.

Adrian turned his head.

One of the two guards had spotted him.

“Did you see someone?” another voice asked as footsteps approached.

Adrian finally understood that he had only seconds to get away. If the guards reached him, they would drag him straight to Eleanor, and he could already imagine the humiliation that awaited him. After everything that had happened that day, he had no desire to give the Whitmore family another opportunity to make him suffer.

He tried to move, but before he could take a step, a hand seized his arm and pulled him sharply away from the bedroom door.

The movement was so sudden that Adrian barely had time to react. Whoever had grabbed him dragged him toward a concealed exit, moving quickly enough to get him away before the approaching guards could reach the spot where he had been standing. Adrian knew with certainty that the guards hadn't reached him in time to pull him away. The entire thing had happened in the blink of an eye.

He didn't resist. The emotional blow Isabella had dealt him had left him too drained to fight, and he had no idea whether the person pulling him away intended to help or harm him. As they passed through the hidden exit, he caught the familiar scent of the man's cologne, but he was too distracted to identify him immediately.

“Do you have a death wish?” the man hissed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Adrian finally turned his head, and his eyes widened when he recognized Gareth Whitmore, Eleanor's youngest son.

For a moment, Adrian could only stare at him. He had expected to be caught by one of the guards or discovered by Eleanor herself, but he hadn't imagined that Gareth would be the one to pull him out of danger. The last time they had met, Gareth had kicked him in the face and ordered him to die on the streets. Adrian couldn't understand why the same man was now helping him escape.

He wanted to ask a dozen questions, but the words wouldn't come. Being caught by one of Eleanor's sons was almost as bad as being caught by Eleanor herself, and he knew that Gareth could turn against him at any moment.

“Come with me,” Gareth ordered.

He continued leading Adrian through the concealed passage until they reached the hidden entrance through which Adrian had entered the estate. Only after they were safely beyond the immediate danger did Gareth release his arm.

Adrian stepped back and stared at him, still trying to understand what had happened.

“Are you insane?” Gareth demanded. “What were you thinking, coming back to your old quarters? What would have happened if my mother had found you here? Do you have any idea what she would have done to you?”

Adrian remained silent, and Gareth's anger grew.

“Don't you understand that she wants you gone for good? You should hear the things she's been saying about you even after we threw you out of the mansion. If she had caught you sneaking around Isabella's apartment, you wouldn't have walked away so easily.”

Something inside Adrian finally snapped.

“What do you care?” he shot back.

Gareth looked taken aback by the sudden outburst, but Adrian no longer cared. He had spent the entire day swallowing insults, begging people who despised him for mercy, and trying to hold on to the belief that at least Isabella still cared about him. That belief had just been destroyed, and he had no patience left for Gareth's sudden concern.

“Are you any better than your mother?” Adrian demanded, his voice rising. “Why don't you take me straight to her? Take me to your damn mother and let her do whatever she wants. Isn't that what your family has wanted all along?”

“You bastard!”

Gareth lunged toward him, raising his hand as though he intended to strike him.

But Adrian reacted before the blow could land. He caught Gareth by the wrist and twisted his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

Despite the years of humiliation and his lean build, Adrian was reasonably strong. He had never enjoyed the same privileges as the Whitmore brothers, but he wasn't as physically helpless as they liked to believe. Gareth struggled against his grip, surprised that Adrian had managed to stop him so easily.

“Let go of me!” Gareth snapped.

Gareth struggled to free his wrist, but Adrian tightened his grip before he could pull away. He had not wanted to hurt him, but Gareth’s cries of pain grew louder, and Adrian finally released him with a frustrated shove.

“You ungrateful bastard! Why did I even help you?” Gareth snapped, clutching his wrist. “I should have taken you straight to my mother. She would have turned you into a steak with that worthless body of yours!”

Adrian’s fingers curled into fists. For a moment, he wanted to punch Gareth square in the face and wipe that arrogant expression off him, but he forced himself to hold back. Gareth might have insulted him, but he had also pulled him away from the guards. Adrian could not ignore that fact, even if he hated admitting it.

“Go to hell!” Adrian shouted, his voice echoing through the narrow passage. “All of you! I’m sick of every damn one of you!”

Gareth stared at him, and the anger in his eyes slowly gave way to pity. That expression hurt Adrian more than the insults ever could. He had seen it on countless faces throughout his life, from people who pretended to sympathize with him while secretly believing he was nothing. He did not want anyone’s pity. He wanted respect, and he was tired of being treated as though he would spend the rest of his life begging for scraps.

Gareth sighed and slipped a hand into the breast pocket of his suit. He pulled out a few hundred-dollar bills and held them toward Adrian.

“Take this and find somewhere to sleep tonight,” he said. “Starting tomorrow, you’re on your own. Don’t come back here expecting me to save you again.”

Adrian stared at the money before snatching it from Gareth’s hand. His humiliation had been building all evening, and that small gesture pushed him over the edge. Instead of accepting the bills, he crumpled them in his fist, seized Gareth by the collar, and shoved the money toward his mouth.

“If you want to give me money so badly, swallow it yourself!” Adrian snarled. “Open your mouth! Go on! You can pay my bills with it!”

Gareth fought him off, stumbling backward as Adrian released his collar. He hurried several steps away, staring at Adrian as though he had finally confirmed that the man was completely insane.

“You crazy bastard!”

“Get out of my sight!” Adrian roared.

Gareth straightened his suit, his face dark with anger. “You'd better watch yourself. Just you wait! I’ll be back, and when I do, you’ll regret this. Go tell your precious family that your days of causing trouble aren’t over. My mother will never let you get away with this!”

“Tell your fucking family whatever you want!” Adrian shouted back. “One day, your mother will be begging to wash my feet!”

The words burst out of him before he could think. His chest heaved, and his voice cracked as he yelled, but he did not care anymore. He wanted Gareth to hear every word. He wanted the whole Whitmore family to hear him and understand that he would not spend the rest of his life accepting their cruelty.

Yet, as Gareth turned and hurried away, Adrian’s anger began to drain, leaving behind the same crushing emptiness he had carried for years. His eyes burned, and before he could stop himself, tears rolled down his cheeks. He wiped them away angrily, but more followed. He had promised himself that he would never let the Whitmores see him break, yet here he was, standing alone in a hidden passage after being thrown out of the only home he had ever known.

His knees weakened, and he sank to the floor, covering his face with both hands as the sobs finally escaped him.

“When will all this end?” he whispered.

Nobody answered. Gareth was gone, the guards were still somewhere inside the mansion, and Isabella had made it painfully clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. The necklace he had bought for her was still in his possession, but the future he had imagined with her had been destroyed in a single moment.

Adrian lowered his hands and stared at the money Gareth had tried to give him. He had been treated like a beggar for accepting it, yet he had no home, no family willing to protect him, and no idea where he would sleep that night.

“When will I become rich?” he asked through his tears. “When will I finally have enough money that nobody can look down on me again?”