Chapter 1: A King's Throne
Oliver Hyden had everything—money, power, and an endless supply of beautiful women who knew better than to expect more than a night from him. He never made promises. Never whispered sweet nothings. Love, to him, was a fairytale for the foolish. He had been raised by a man who valued results, not emotions. And if Harry Hyden, the legendary business tycoon, had taught him anything, it was that attachments made men weak.
Tonight was a celebration. His thirtieth birthday. The exclusive Manhattan penthouse shimmered with gold-trimmed décor, champagne flowed endlessly, and music pulsed in sync with the city’s heartbeat. Models, actresses, heiresses—all eager to catch his attention—circled like moths to a flame.
Oliver leaned back on the luxurious leather couch, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching as a blonde in a tight red dress slinked onto his lap. He didn’t bother remembering her name. Names didn’t matter. Names meant familiarity. Familiarity meant expectations.
“You’re officially the most eligible bachelor in New York,” she purred, trailing her manicured fingers down his chest.
He smirked, tipping his glass to his lips. “Was there ever a doubt?”
She giggled, pressing closer. But before things could escalate, a sharp voice cut through the air.
“Having fun, son?”
Oliver’s smirk faded as his father’s towering presence cast a shadow over his indulgence. Harry Hyden was a man whose very gaze could dismantle lesser men. He was dressed sharply, as always, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back, his expression unreadable.
The blonde hurried off Oliver’s lap, clearly intimidated. Oliver exhaled, setting down his drink. “You should be celebrating, old man. You’re finally free of the empire.”
Harry’s lips barely twitched. “The empire isn’t a burden, Oliver. It’s a responsibility.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “And you think I can’t handle it?”
His father studied him. “I think you can. But I also think you need to stop treating life like a playground. Hyden Enterprises isn’t just a company. It’s a legacy. It’s time you acted like it.”
Oliver’s jaw clenched. He had spent years proving himself, making strategic deals, increasing profits, and yet, to his father, he was still the reckless son who needed guidance.
Harry glanced at the party unfolding around them and shook his head. “Be at the office tomorrow by eight. Your reign begins then.”
And just like that, his father walked away, leaving Oliver gripping his whiskey tighter.
---
The next morning, Oliver arrived at Hyden Enterprises at precisely eight o’clock. His usual charm was replaced with steel-edged determination. He strode through the towering glass doors, past employees who whispered as he passed.
At the top floor, the executive board was already seated. Men who had worked under his father, their faces a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
Oliver took his seat at the head of the table, exuding confidence. “Gentlemen, let’s get one thing straight—I may not be my father, but I’m not here to play games. Hyden Enterprises is under new management. And under my leadership, we’re going to dominate.”
There were nods, a few murmurs of approval. He thrived on this—power, control, respect. This was where he belonged.
But that night, as he stood in his penthouse, whiskey in hand, staring at the city he owned, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Something he couldn’t control.
And for the first time, Oliver Hyden didn’t like that one bit.
