CHAPTER THREE: THE BILLIONAIRE'S DEATH
1902 Words
Rain hammered against the penthouse glass walls like bullets fired from heaven.
The city glittered below—a maze of wealth and excess, its lights stretching into darkness like veins beneath skin.
Luxury cars slid through wet streets. Neon signs bled color across puddles.
Somewhere beneath the storm, people laughed in expensive restaurants and danced in crowded clubs.
At the very top of Vale Tower, silence ruled.
Damien Vale sat alone in the dark.
A crystal tumbler dangled between his fingers. An open bottle of whiskey rested beside him, half empty.
The sharp scent of alcohol hung thick in the air, mixing with cigarette smoke and expensive cologne.
The penthouse looked exactly like the man who owned it.
Cold.
Elegant.
Empty.
Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded the living room, displaying the entire city like a kingdom he had conquered.
Marble floors gleamed beneath dim golden lights.
Abstract paintings worth millions decorated the walls. Everything was polished to perfection.
Yet somehow, the place still felt lifeless.
Damien leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. His tie hung loose around his neck.
The first few buttons of his shirt were undone. He looked exhausted in a way sleep could never fix.
His phone buzzed on the glass table.
He ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Irritation flickered across his face before he snatched it up. The screen glowed bright in the darkness.
Lucien.
Damien stared at the name for several seconds. Then he declined the call without hesitation.
The phone rang again immediately.
A humorless laugh escaped him.
"Persistent bastard."
He answered, pressing the phone to his ear while pouring himself another drink.
"What?" he muttered.
Lucien's voice came through smooth and amused. "Still drinking?"
Damien said nothing.
"That bad, huh?"
"Say what you called to say."
A pause. Then Lucien chuckled softly. Even through the phone, Damien could picture his twin perfectly—relaxed posture, arrogant smile, perfectly tailored suit, eyes glittering with mockery.
People always called them identical.
They lied.
Perhaps their faces matched. But Lucien had always been warmer. More charming. More human.
People naturally gravitated toward him while Damien inspired caution and distance.
It had always been that way.
Especially with her.
"I saw the headlines," Lucien continued casually. "Rough night."
Damien's grip tightened around the glass.
Every news outlet in the city had already spread the story.
Celeste Laurent had publicly appeared at Lucien's charity gala tonight. She wore the necklace Damien had bought her years ago.
Not only that—
She arrived holding Lucien's arm.
The internet was already exploding.
Vale Twins Finally End Rivalry?
Celeste Chooses Lucien?
Damien Vale Humiliated at Charity Gala
Damien downed the rest of his whiskey in one burning swallow.
"What do you want, Lucien?"
"To check on my brother."
"I don't need your concern."
"No," Lucien said softly. "You need help."
Something dark flickered through Damien's expression.
"You think you've won?"
"I think," Lucien replied carefully, "you've spent ten years destroying yourself over a woman who never intended to belong to anyone."
The words landed harder than Damien expected.
Because they were true.
Celeste Laurent had always been untouchable. Beautiful enough to ruin men. Smart enough to manipulate them. Cruel enough to enjoy it.
And Damien—despite knowing all of that—had loved her anyway.
Or perhaps obsession was the more accurate word.
Even after marrying Serena.
Even after Serena gave him patience he never deserved.
Even after years of emotional distance and cold silence.
Damien still chased Celeste like a starving man chasing a hallucination.
Now he had lost.
Not just Celeste.
Everything.
"You should go home to your wife," Lucien said quietly.
Damien's jaw hardened instantly.
"Don't talk about Serena."
"Why? Because you know you don't deserve her?"
Silence fell.
Lucien sighed softly on the other end.
"She stayed beside you for years while you treated her like furniture, Damien. And you still look at another woman like she hung the stars."
Damien ended the call abruptly.
The silence afterward felt deafening.
For several moments, he simply sat there staring at the rain.
Then—
CRASH!
The whiskey glass exploded against the wall. Fragments scattered across marble floors. Amber liquid dripped slowly down expensive artwork.
Damien breathed heavily, his chest tightening painfully.
He hated Lucien.
Not because Lucien was wrong.
But because Lucien could say those things while still being loved by everyone around him.
Lucien was effortless.
Damien was exhausting.
Always had been.
Another drink.
Then another.
The alcohol burned less with each swallow.
His gaze drifted toward the dining table across the room.
A small velvet box sat there untouched.
Inside rested a diamond bracelet worth nearly half a million dollars.
Serena's birthday gift.
Three days late.
A bitter smile crossed Damien's face.
He couldn't remember the last time he had personally handed her a gift.
Usually, assistants delivered things while he buried himself in work—or Celeste.
Yet Serena never complained.
That almost made it worse.
His phone buzzed again.
This time, the screen displayed a different name.
Serena.
Damien stared at it silently.
The call rang until it ended.
A second later, a message appeared.
Are you coming home tonight?
Simple.
Polite.
Careful.
Like she was speaking to a stranger instead of her husband.
Damien looked away immediately.
Guilt stirred unpleasantly inside him.
He hated that feeling. Hated the way Serena's quiet kindness exposed every ugly thing inside him without ever saying a word.
She deserved better.
The thought came suddenly and unexpectedly.
Damien frowned deeply.
Strange. He rarely allowed himself to think about Serena long enough for guilt to settle in.
Usually, he drowned those thoughts with work, alcohol, or Celeste.
Tonight, none of those distractions worked.
Rain continued pounding against the windows.
The storm outside mirrored the one clawing through him.
Damien stood unsteadily and walked toward the massive glass wall overlooking the city.
His reflection stared back.
Dark hair slightly disheveled. Cold gray eyes bloodshot from drinking.
An expensive suit hanging off him like armor.
He looked powerful.
Untouchable.
Yet his own reflection disgusted him.
"How pathetic," he murmured.
He had everything men dreamed about. Money. Power. Status. Women.
Yet somehow he still felt empty.
No—
Not empty.
Rotten.
His thoughts drifted unwillingly toward Serena again.
He remembered their wedding day. She had looked radiant in white, smiling softly at him like he was the center of her universe.
And what had he felt?
Nothing.
Not because Serena lacked beauty or grace.
But because another woman occupied his heart.
Even now, years later, he still remembered the exact expression on Serena's face the first time she realized he would never truly love her.
She had hidden it quickly.
But Damien saw it.
That tiny fracture.
That quiet heartbreak.
And despite seeing it—
He did nothing.
A sharp pain twisted through his chest.
Damien pressed a hand against it with a grimace.
Too much alcohol.
Probably stress too.
He returned to the couch heavily and grabbed the bottle directly this time.
The whiskey tasted bitter.
Or perhaps that was just his life finally catching up to him.
Hours passed.
Or maybe minutes.
Time blurred strangely.
The storm worsened outside. The penthouse grew darker and colder.
At some point, Damien loosened his collar completely and slumped deeper into the couch.
The room tilted slightly.
His thoughts became fragmented.
Celeste laughing.
Lucien smiling.
Serena waiting.
Always waiting.
Damien closed his eyes.
For the first time in years, he wondered what would have happened if he had chosen differently.
If he had stopped chasing impossible love.
If he had looked properly at the woman already beside him.
Would Serena have smiled more?
Would this penthouse have felt warmer?
Would he still feel like he was drowning every waking second?
Another sharp pain hit his chest.
Stronger this time.
Damien inhaled sharply.
The glass bottle slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor.
His breathing turned uneven.
Something was wrong.
He tried sitting up straighter. Dizziness crashed into him violently. His vision blurred around the edges.
"Damn it..."
He reached for his phone.
His fingers failed twice before finally grabbing it.
The screen swam before his eyes.
Contacts.
Serena's name sat near the top.
For several seconds, Damien stared at it.
A strange emotion rose in his chest then.
Regret.
Pure and unbearable.
He thought about Serena sitting alone in that enormous mansion, waiting for a husband who barely acknowledged her existence.
And suddenly—
He didn't want to die alone.
His thumb hovered over her contact.
But before he could press it, another violent pain tore through his body.
The phone slipped from his grasp.
It hit the floor with a dull c***k.
Damien collapsed back against the couch, breathing raggedly.
Cold.
Everything suddenly felt cold.
Rain battered the windows mercilessly.
Lightning illuminated the penthouse in brief flashes of white.
His heartbeat thundered painfully in his ears.
Then slower.
Slower.
Fear finally crept into him.
Not fear of death.
Fear of ending like this.
Alone.
Unloved.
Unforgiven.
His gaze drifted weakly toward the velvet box still sitting unopened on the table.
Serena's gift.
Three days late.
A broken laugh escaped him.
"Pathetic..."
The word barely left his lips.
His vision darkened further.
Memories surfaced strangely.
Lucien laughing as children.
His father's endless expectations.
Celeste's beautiful smile.
Serena silently adjusting his tie one morning before work.
That memory lingered.
Small.
Insignificant.
Yet oddly warm.
Damien realized then that Serena had always touched him gently, like she feared he might break someday.
Maybe she had seen the cracks long before he did.
Another painful spasm tore through him.
His body slid sideways against the couch.
Breathing became difficult now.
Heavy.
Wet.
The room faded in and out.
And for the first time in his life—
Damien Vale genuinely regretted something.
Not losing Celeste.
Not losing against Lucien.
Not even wasting years chasing obsession.
He regretted Serena.
He regretted never giving her even a fraction of what she gave him.
The realization came too late.
Far too late.
The storm raged outside like the world itself was mourning nothing.
Lightning flashed again.
For a brief second, Damien thought he saw someone standing near the window.
A man.
Tall.
Wearing simple clothes.
Watching him silently.
Damien frowned weakly.
Hallucination.
Definitely hallucination.
The figure didn't move.
Somehow, despite the darkness, Damien could feel the weight of those eyes on him.
Not cruel.
Not mocking.
Just tired.
Deeply tired.
Damien tried speaking. No sound came out.
The figure slowly stepped closer.
And strangely—
Damien felt calm.
His heartbeat weakened further.
The world became quieter.
Rain softened.
Pain dulled.
The stranger stopped a few feet away.
Their eyes met.
And Damien suddenly felt something impossible.
Shame.
Because whoever this man was... his eyes carried the kind of exhaustion only someone who had spent their entire life sacrificing for others could possess.
A life Damien himself had never lived.
The stranger looked at him almost sorrowfully.
Then darkness swallowed everything.
—
The storm continued long into the night.
By morning, headlines would explode across every news station.
Damien Vale Found Dead in Penthouse
Heir to Vale Corporation Dies at 35
Billionaire Tragedy Shocks Nation
But none of them would know the truth.
That Damien Vale did not die hating the world.
He died regretting the woman who loved him.
And somewhere between one final heartbeat and complete silence—
another soul was already beginning to awaken.
- Writer
