Breaking The Bond

The Weight Of Success

Trent's POV

I walked into my office with my briefcase in hand, moving with long, confident strides. All my employees stepped forward to greet me, their eyes filled with awe and admiration. This was normal for me—something I’d grown accustomed to. Their attention doesn’t bother me anymore. The women tried to catch my eye in subtle ways: some adjusted their poses, others bent forward just enough to reveal more than necessary, while a few secretly rolled up their skirts, exposing more of their legs. The bolder ones came up to me with work-related excuses, only to fumble and leave without saying anything meaningful. They just wanted to be close to me. I couldn’t blame them—I was rich, successful, and, of course, handsome.

The men, on the other hand, had a different approach. They sucked up to me, seeking favors, but I could tell they envied me. My quick rise to success and the attention I received from the women around the office didn’t sit well with them.

As I entered my office, my personal assistant, Rogers, was already there, waiting to take my briefcase. “A man’s been here since early this morning,” he said. “He says he needs to speak with you urgently. He left for a bit but promised to return soon. Should I turn him away or schedule an appointment?”

“No need. Send him in when he gets back,” I replied, settling into my chair to begin my work.

I focused on my tasks for a while before getting up and walking over to the glass windows of my office—the tallest building in the city. From here, I could see the whole city, people moving about like ants, rushing to work or driving in their old, rickety cars, trying to beat the traffic. I chuckled at the sight.

Those people, the ones I watched daily, were hopeless. They lived for small goals—saving up for their kids’ college, trying to secure a pension, or maybe dreaming of some stupid vacation on an island. 'Silly dreams', I thought. I hated how content they seemed, happy with their mediocre lives, their routine jobs, and simple families.

My parents had drilled it into me since I was young: never settle for less. Nothing, they said, was more important than money. Not love. Not happiness. Just money. They’d clawed their way out of poverty and sacrificed everything to become wealthy. They taught me that love was a luxury—something that could be sacrificed for success.

When love got in the way of my ambitions, I knew what had to be done. I chose the business, the wealth, and the life my parents had built for me. I let love go.

It was the right decision, wasn’t it? But then why did I feel so empty inside?

I stared out the window, my coffee in hand, watching the people below who were too blind to see the monotony of their existence. Those ordinary people could never understand the cost of real success. They believed in happiness and love—things I had learned to push aside.

I walked back to my desk and picked up a framed picture of Janice, my ex-fiancee. I sighed, feeling a pang of regret. If only I could turn back time.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. The man who had come to see me finally arrived. He entered, and we shook hands. As soon as our hands touched, I felt a strange vibration, something that made me pause for a second, but I didn’t dwell on it.

The man began speaking, presenting a business proposal. “You said this was urgent,” I said. “Why didn’t you follow the normal procedure? You can’t just walk into my office and expect me to entertain your request without an appointment. I’m not that accessible.”

The man tried to explain himself, but I wasn’t really listening. My thoughts drifted back to Janice and the life I could have had. But I had made my choice—money over love—and that was a choice I would have to live with.