Chapter 5 - THE CRUMBLING EMPIRE
Back in the city,
the silence in the Castillo mansion was suffocating.
Adrian sat in the dark of his study,
the only light coming from the glowing screen of his laptop.
He was looking at the company’s internal server,
or trying to.
Access Denied.
The words were a physical slap.
He had been locked out of his own empire,
a digital exile from the world he had built.
His mother walked in,
her face a mask of grief and fury.
“The board called,
Adrian.”
“They’ve appointed a temporary CEO.”
“Someone from the Salazar group.”
Adrian didn't look up.
“They can have it.”
“Don’t be a fool!” Margaret snapped,
slamming her hand on the desk.
“We have to fight!
We have to tell them Elena manipulated you!”
“She didn't manipulate me,
Mother,” Adrian said,
his voice hollow and dead.
“I signed the papers.”
“I didn't read them because I was too busy dreaming about a son that wasn't mine.”
He looked at his mother,
really looked at her,
seeing the greed that had shaped his own life.
“You knew about the surgery,
didn't you?”
Margaret hesitated,
her eyes flickering.
“I thought you would get better.
I thought it was a temporary setback.”
“You let me believe I was fine,” Adrian whispered.
“You let me treat Elena like a failure for not getting pregnant again.”
“You wanted an heir so badly you didn't care where it came from.”
Margaret turned away,
unable to meet his gaze.
“I did it for the family.”
“What family?” Adrian roared,
standing up.
“My kids are in Spain!”
“My wife is a stranger who owns my bed!”
“There is no family left,
Mother!”
The doorbell rang,
a long,
persistent sound.
Adrian went to the door,
expecting a lawyer or a reporter.
Instead,
it was a process server.
“Adrian Castillo?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been served.”
Adrian took the envelope and opened it.
It wasn't about the divorce.
It was a lawsuit from the board of directors for the misappropriation of company funds.
The penthouse down payment.
The luxury gifts for Chloe.
The private jets he had used for their trysts.
Every cent was being called back,
with interest.
He looked at the total amount.
It was more than he would earn in ten lifetimes.
He closed the door and leaned against it,
feeling the weight of the world collapsing on top of him.
He had thought he was the architect of his own destiny.
In reality,
he was just the man who had set fire to the house while he was still inside.
He went to the kitchen and found a bottle of expensive scotch,
one of the few things he still owned.
He poured a glass and drank it in one go,
but it didn't dull the pain.
He picked up the dinosaur toy Noah had left under the sofa.
A small,
plastic T-Rex with a missing tail.
He held it in his hand,
the plastic cold and hard.
May you like
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the empty room.
But there was no one left to hear him.
