Chapter 1: The Betrayal

The dimly lit office bore the weight of his despair. Papers lay scattered across the mahogany floor, some crumpled in fits of rage, others soaked with spilled wine.

A shattered glass globe lay in pieces near his desk, a silent testament to his turmoil. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, mingling with the faint fragrance of his cologne, now dulled by sweat and exhaustion.

Adrain sat hunched over his desk, elbows resting on the cold surface, his fingers gripping his temples as if trying to hold himself together.

His dark eyes, usually sharp and commanding, were red and swollen, glistening with unshed tears. His entire body trembled with the force of his emotions. He couldn’t believe it—he didn’t want to believe it.

"How could she?" he murmured, his voice hoarse from screaming, from pleading with the reality that refused to change.

"Like, how could she? After everything we've been through?"

His lips quivered as he shook his head. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, but it did nothing to erase the pain clawing at his heart. The betrayal felt like a knife twisting in his chest, a deep wound that no amount of time or reason could easily mend.

"How can Elena betray me like this?" He let out a hollow chuckle, the sound devoid of mirth. "Don't I mean anything to her? Why would she betray me like this? Why would she do such a thing?"

His fists clenched, his knuckles turning white as his entire body tensed.

"I have suffered," he whispered bitterly, his voice barely audible. "I've invested so much. I trusted her and she stabbed me in the back."

He exhaled sharply, a ragged breath filled with frustration and sorrow.

"She went behind my back and did what she did."

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, gripping it as if trying to pull himself back to reality. But reality was cruel—it replayed every moment he had shared with her, every sacrifice he had made, every dream they had built together. And now, it was all gone.

A sharp knock on the door jolted him from his thoughts, but he barely lifted his head.

The door creaked open.

"I SAID I WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE!" His voice cracked with fury and grief, his throat raw from shouting. "I thought I told you—I want to be left alone! GET OUT! LEAVE MY OFFICE!"

A moment of silence.

Then, a familiar voice. "Calm down. It’s me, Lucas."

His best friend stepped inside, unbothered by the storm of emotions raging in the room. He took in the chaotic scene—the shattered glass, the half-empty wine bottles, the overturned chair. His expression darkened.

"I heard what happened, and I had to rush over to check on you." He sighed, shutting the door behind him. "Man, what the hell is this? Why is this place a mess?"

His gaze landed on the empty wine bottles, and his brows furrowed.

"You're drinking? Really? Does it call for that?"

Adrain scoffed, grabbing another bottle from his desk. His fingers traced the rim absentmindedly before he took a long, slow sip.

"Yes. It does," he muttered. "You don’t understand how I feel right now. To be betrayed by someone I trusted, by someone I put so close to me."

His voice cracked again, but he swallowed his emotions along with the burning liquid.

Lucas shook his head in disappointment, stepping closer. "It’s not worth it. Just take a look at yourself." He gestured toward the mess around them. "In just a few minutes, you’ve already become a wreck. Are you a child? Look at your office—empty bottles, scattered papers and who the hell smashed this artifact?"

Silence.

Lucas exhaled heavily, running a hand down his face. "Listen, you need to get out of here. Clean yourself up. The cleaners need to come in and sort out this disaster you’ve made."

He reached for the bottle in his friend’s hand. "Give me that. Enough. You’ve had too much to drink."

But Adrain clutched it tighter, refusing to let go. His grip trembled, his eyes filled with unspeakable pain.

"How can she?" he whispered again, his voice weaker this time. "My friend, how can she? How can Elena do this to me?"

Lucas sighed. "We’ll talk about this later. But for now, you need to go home and rest." He reached down, grabbing his arm firmly. "Get up. Stop crying."

Adrain yanked his arm away, glaring up at him. "Stop crying?" he scoffed bitterly. "You think it’s that simple?" His eyes burned with unshed tears. "You tell me to stop crying, but do you even understand what I’m going through? Do you even have a clue what this feels like?"

His breath hitched. "I feel like giving up." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I just want to die."

His friend froze. His expression shifted instantly from frustration to alarm.

"I just want to give up," he repeated, eyes staring vacantly at the wall.

Lucas grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Can you hear yourself? No, seriously, can you actually hear yourself?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the despair.

"You want to die? You want to give up? And leave this empire—for who? Leave this business, this empire you built from nothing—for who?"

Adrain swallowed hard, looking away.

"You’re a man. You will get through this," Lucas continued, voice firm but not unkind. "It’s painful, I know. But you are stronger than this. You have worked too hard to let one person’s betrayal destroy everything."

Silence stretched between them.

Then, a whisper. "It doesn’t feel that way."

Lucas sighed and knelt beside him. "I know it doesn’t. Right now, it feels like the end of the world. But trust me—it’s not. It never is. Betrayal hurts like hell, but it doesn’t define you. This pain? It won’t last forever."

He placed a firm hand on Adrain's shoulder.

"Come on. Let’s get you home."

Adrain exhaled shakily. His hands trembled as he set the bottle down.

His friend offered a small, knowing smile.

"That’s more like it."

And with that, he helped him up, guiding him out of the wreckage of his office—out of the ruins of a night that had broken him.

Lucas thought, "this is not a good time to tell him or should I? If I do, it'll worsen the case and I'll appear bad and selfish to him. Let me wait for him to get back on his feet, but the earlier, the better for me.