They Called Me Trash—But I am actually the Billionaire Boss

The news anchor’s voice echoed on the screen,through the halls of Umbratech headquarters.

"Breaking news—Umbratech has unveiled the world's first hypersonic missile capable of striking any target across the globe in under five minutes. Experts say this advancement cements Umbratech as the top weapon supplier on the planet, securing our nation’s place as a military superpower."

On the screen, images of the missile's successful test launch played, smoke trailing behind it as it tore through the sky. The gathered reporters clapped in unison, their faces beaming with excitement. Headlines flashed across the room: “Umbratech Leads the World”The Man Who Changed Global Defense”.

Cameras flashed. Reporters shouted his name.

Someone called out. “How does it feel to lead the most advanced defense company in history?”

Another reporter chimed in, “What’s next for Umbratech, Are you planning even more groundbreaking developments?”

The crowd on the screen grew louder with excitement, their questions overlapping, eager for a glimpse into the future.

But inside the towering glass office on the top floor, the man behind it all stood still. With his back to the world.

Elias Voss, CEO of Umbratech,stood silent. He just slipped his hands into his pockets and looked out the window. A hundred stories high, the city stretched beneath him like a conquered kingdom.

Behind him, his secretary—and right-hand man—Adams stepped in.

Adams turned off the fullscreen broadcast still playing the news on the office wall. The cheers of reporters and military analysts died instantly, replaced by silence.

“Everyone’s celebrating, sir,” Adams said, approaching with a tablet in hand. “The stock hit record highs. Defense contracts from four countries landed on your desk this morning. The Pentagon called twice. And—” he paused, eyes scanning the screen, “you’ve been named Global Innovator of the Year. Again.”

Elias didn’t flinch. His gaze remained fixed on the city through the massive window.

A faint nod. “Hmm.”

“Sir, they’re calling you a national hero,the God of War.”

He didn’t answer. The praise meant nothing. He hadn’t built Umbratech for headlines. Or awards.

Adams cleared his throat. “Also… the president sent over this.” He handed over a velvet case.

Elias opened it.

Inside sat a gold badge, embedded with a rare royal blue gemstone, the country’s crest etched in its center.

“That's a one-of-a-kind piece,The President’s office also sent a pile of gifts—wines, antiques, luxury watches" Adams said. “It's the president’s way of honoring you. Comes with a dinner invitation. Private. Just you, him, and his wife.”

Elias looked at the badge for three seconds. Then shut the case and set it aside.

“Decline the invitation.”said flatly.

Adams, who had just handed him the case, froze in place. “Sir?”

“I’m busy.”

Adams blinked. Once. Twice. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again.

“That’s… that’s the president,” he said, voice cracking with disbelief.. “

“I know.” Elias leaned back, crossed one leg over the other, and rested his hands on the armrests. His face showed no emotion. No irritation. No surprise. 

Adams stared at him, completely baffled. “But—he’s the president,” he repeated, like Elias might not have understood the first time.

“And I’m not interested in small talk over steak,” Elias said coldly.

The room went quiet.

Adams scratched his head. “What’s more important than a dinner with the most powerful man in the country?”

Elias didn’t respond immediately. He looked down at his watch. Then back at the city skyline. His eyes narrowed.

The time was 7:30 PM.

Adams was still staring at Elias like he’d grown two heads.No reaction. No change of expression.

Elias didn’t even blink.

Adams coughed and scratched the back of his neck. “Uh… right. You’ve got that thing tonight—” He looked down at the tablet. His eyes widened. “Oh. The blind date.”

Elias shot him a cold glance.

Adams winced. “My bad, sir. I’ll handle the gifts. I’ll also arrange a car. Give me two minutes.”

He turned so fast he nearly dropped the tablet, then stumbled out of the office like he was escaping a warzone.

Elias sat alone again. He stared at the closed badge case on the table.A gold badge. A dinner with the president. Half the world bowing at his feet.

But All that didn’t matter.

He’d already conquered the industry. Built the empire. Put his country ten steps ahead of every other nation.

He wasn’t getting any younger. The war had been won. The crown was his. But a man doesn’t build a throne just to sit on it alone.

Now he needed something else. A family.

--

Elias sat by the window, one hand resting on the table. A glass of water stood untouched beside him. His black suit was tailored to perfection.

8:45 PM.

The woman was late.

 He’d built an empire. The country revered him, and yet, here he was—sitting alone at a dinner table waiting for a woman who wasn’t even on time.

Finally, the door opened. He recognized her immediately. 

Miranda Crane stepped in like she owned the place—forty minutes late, and not a hint of apology on her face. Her eyes barely glanced at him, like he was the one who should’ve been grateful she showed up at all. 

She wore a revealing dress like she’d mistaken a blind date for a nightclub audition. 

With not even Not a single word of explanation. Not even a simple “sorry.” She immediately began talking.

"So," she said, "what is it that you do? I mean, you don’t look like a big shot. No offense, but I was expecting someone... more impressive."

Elias smirked. He didn’t need more than thirty seconds to figure her out. Materialistic, superficial and a waste of his time.

 "I’m a salesman," he replied smoothly. "Of sorts."

To Elias, even the world’s top weapons supplier was technically a salesman—selling power, influence, and security to the highest bidder 

Her lips curved into a small smirk. "A salesman?" she repeated. "And you’re here, at this fancy restaurant, to meet me? What is this, a joke?"

Elias didn’t flinch. He wasn’t interested in defending himself. She was exactly what he didn’t want—materialistic, shallow, looking for a paycheck.

"Well," she continued, "if you're just a salesman, then I don’t think you’re worth my time. I’m looking for someone who can actually offer me something more."

Her words hit like a slap. But Elias didn’t react. He simply took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.

The woman pushed back from the table and stood up. "Sorry, but I think I’ll pass. You’re not even in my league. Hell, you’re not even in the stadium." She tossed her napkin onto the table and walked off without another word.

Elias sat there for a moment, still. He wasn’t surprised. The world had always been full of people who wanted something for nothing, who couldn’t see beyond the surface.

Elias didn’t even glance at the woman as she left, his attention now caught by a commotion happening the next table.

A man was standing up, his face twisted in fury, while a woman across from him seemed equally irritated. Fredrick made a move to grab her wrist, but she jerked it away with an angry hiss.

“Let go of me, Fredrick,” she snapped.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Fredrick drawled, leaning forward with a smirk. “Your dad set this up. We might as well get to know each other.”

“You tried to feel me up across the table,” she retorted, pushing her chair back and standing. “I’m not interested. Not now. Not ever.”

Fredrick tilted his head, clearly unfazed. “It’s called chemistry, babe.”

Without warning, he reached out again—this time not for her hand, but lower. She immediately splashed her wine in his face. The red liquid stained his expensive shirt, dripping onto his lap as he staggered back in shock.

Elias felt the sting of the wine hitting his shirt, splashing across his arm. He frowned, wiping it off with a napkin. First, that blind date who acted like he wasn’t worth the seat he sat on. 

Now this loud, trashy scene unfolding in front of him. His mood, which was already soured, dipped even lower.

“What the hell—” Fredrick hissed, clearly not used to being humiliated.

The woman turned sharply to leave, but Fredrick grabbed her arm with a snarl. “Don’t walk away from me!”

Elias couldn’t ignore it any longer. The wine stain had soaked into his shirt, but it wasn’t that which bothered him—it was the fact that the man was pushing things too far.

 He stood and moved toward the table.

“Let go of her,” Elias said flatly.

Fredrick, still furious, shot him a look

. “And who the hell are you?” he sneered, not recognizing Elias.

“Someone who doesn’t like watching idiots make a scene,” Elias replied. “Now, walk away.”