Trash to Throne

Chapter 1 – Coins on the Floor

Rain had a way of making the city look cleaner than it really was. For Adrian Cole, it only made the dirt stick harder. He stood in the middle of the open air cafe, dripping wet, while laughter swirled around him.

His ex, Bella Frost, sat at a corner table with her new man, a corporate peacock in a three piece suit sipping champagne like they owned the sky.

"That’s him?" Bella’s voice cut through the chatter, sugar sweet but sharp enough to slice skin. "The man I wasted two years on? Look at you, Adrian. Pathetic. No job. No future. Still wearing that same cheap jacket."

She didn’t whisper. She didn’t need to. Heads turned. Smirks bloomed. The waiter looked like he wanted to ask him to leave, but the show was too good.

"Trash," she said finally, tilting her head in pity that wasn’t pity at all. Her new man tossed a stack of bills on the table. "Here, Cole. Buy yourself a life." The laughter hit harder than the rain.

By the time Adrian got to the office, his last lifeline, he was still damp, still humiliated, still telling himself he could shake it off. He’d been working at Briggs & Co. for six years. Martin Briggs, the kind of boss who smiled with teeth too white to be real, was waiting in the lobby. "Adrian," Briggs said, clapping him on the shoulder, "you’re late."

"there was traffic, sir."

Briggs didn’t let him finish. "Save it. The company’s moving forward. Without you." A white envelope was shoved into his hands. Termination. No warning. No severance. Just a grin from the man who’d praised him last week.

"Here’s your parting bonus," Briggs said, reaching into his pocket. A handful of coins clinked to the floor between them. "For the bus ride home. Don’t say I never gave you anything." Laughter again. Always laughter.

An hour later, Adrian was walking aimlessly down the street, clutching the coins so tightly his palm ached. His phone buzzed Eviction Notice. He didn’t open it. He already knew. He turned the corner, and that’s when he saw them.

A convoy of black cars, glossy as wet stone, gliding to a stop at the curb. Doors opened in perfect sequence. Men in tailored suits stepped out, their movements crisp, rehearsed. One of them tall, lean, with silver at his temples walked up to Adrian, ignoring the puddles soaking his leather shoes.

"Mr. Cole?" Adrian blinked. "Yeah?"

The man removed his hat, bowed slightly, and handed him a black envelope sealed in gold.

"Congratulations," he said, voice low but clear. "You are the sole heir to the Orion Consortium."

The street noise faded. Rain stilled. Adrian’s heartbeat was the only sound in the universe. He broke the seal. Inside, a single line of elegant handwriting: Your inheritance awaits. The world is now yours.

A camera flash went off somewhere behind him and that was when he realized, people weren’t laughing anymore. They were staring.