CHAPTER-4
2004 Words
“Would you like another glass, sir?” the bartender asks, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the bar.
I’m perched on a stool at the counter, my fingers idly tracing the rim of my glass. Four rounds of brandy down, and though my mind feels slightly adrift, I’m not entirely lost. I still know exactly what I’m doing.
Straightening from my previously slouched posture, I grasp the handle of my glass, lifting it to my lips for one final sip. I glance at the bartender, offering him a lazy, lopsided grin—a grin that only comes from the warm haze of intoxication.
“No, I’m done. Just get me my bill,” I say, tipping back the last remnants of my drink.
He nods, swiftly sliding the bill toward me. I flick my gaze over the total before reaching into my wallet and pulling out five hundred dollars. Placing it on the counter, I push myself up from the stool.
“Keep the change, kid. You’ve been attentive tonight—you’ve earned it.” My words are slightly slurred but firm, carrying the weight of someone who knows exactly how to reward loyalty.
With that, I turn and stride toward the exit, the cool night air hitting me as I step onto the porch of the bar. From here, I can see my car parked a short distance away.
Then, movement.
The limo door opens, and Zoren steps out, my white jacket draped over his arm. His face is drawn tight, his shoulders stiff. Something’s wrong.
“Sir,” he calls out, closing the distance between us. “Lady Eurika just called me. She asked where you were.” A brief pause. Then, as if delivering a final blow, he adds, “Your daughter was looking for you.”
I exhale slowly, taking the jacket from his hands and slipping it on. And just like that, I know exactly why he looks so unnerved.
She yelled at him again.
I shake my head, the thought alone exhausting me.
“She screamed at you over the phone, didn’t she?” I ask as we begin walking toward the limo. I adjust my jacket sleeves, smoothing out the creases, waiting for his answer.
Zoren hesitates, his lips parting as if to speak, but nothing comes out at first. Then, with a deep sigh, he finally admits, “She was furious at me, sir… for not driving you straight to her house.” His tone is laced with frustration, almost defeated—like a child scolded for something beyond his control.
I stop walking, turning to face him fully.
“She acts like my wife when she isn’t,” I mutter, shaking my head in irritation. “She should know her place. We’re not together, and she has no right to dictate my time. She’s lucky I’ve indulged her whims—clothes, money, luxury. Everything she wanted, I gave her.”
Zoren says nothing, but I know he agrees.
With a sigh, I resume walking. He follows closely behind.
“Don’t pay attention to her,” I say dismissively. “She’s pretending to be something she’s not. Just let it pass.”
Once we reach the car, I slide inside without another word. Zoren takes his usual seat up front, beside the driver. Soon, the low rumble of the engine fills the silence, and we pull away from the bar.
But despite the distance we’re putting between ourselves and that place, my thoughts remain restless. The moment the city lights blur past the window, an unsettling feeling takes root in my chest.
Something tells me I’m about to walk into dangerous territory.
A place where Eurika is waiting.
“Zoren,” I say abruptly, my voice cutting through the quiet hum of the ride. “Did Halter call?”
During the day, Halter—one of my most trusted men—calls me directly. He knows my phone is always with me. But at night, he reaches out to Zoren instead, aware that my evenings are often unpredictable. By the time I return home, I usually go straight to the shower, then to bed. Sometimes, I skip dinner entirely. That’s why, if something urgent comes up, Zoren is the one who keeps track of it for me.
“No, sir,” Zoren replies. “But I did receive a message from Jims.”
Jims?
I glance at him curiously. Whatever message his brother sent must be confidential. Every single employee in my estate has signed a strict non-disclosure agreement—whatever they see or hear inside, they are legally bound to keep it there. If they don’t, I have no qualms about taking legal action.
“What did he say?” I ask.
Zoren doesn’t hesitate. “He said the old masters are hosting a party. A gathering for their colleagues and business associates. They want you there.”
A business gathering? Here?
I frown slightly. My company operates under various corporate names, each one designed to keep us shielded from rivals. Many have tried—and failed—to bring my empire down. They don’t realize that taking me on means facing something far bigger than just a company. It means facing the wrath of the Beaurlington and Thron bloodlines. We have ten family-owned corporations, each one dominating industries across the world.
Those who wish to challenge us must tread carefully.
“When is it?” I ask, curiosity piqued.
“In two weeks, sir,” Zoren replies. Then, as if delivering a final surprise, he adds, “Your grandfather will be there too.”
Grandfather Godric?
Now, that changes things.
A slow smirk tugs at my lips. The old man—the one who trained me, the one who drilled every lesson of business and power into my head—will be there.
That alone makes this gathering far more interesting.
“Good,” I murmur, leaning back against the seat.
Something tells me this party might hold more value than just business.
And who knows?
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll find the missing piece I’ve been searching for.
Silence settles between us. As we drive deeper into the so-called danger zone, I find myself unconsciously turning my head towards the car window. My eyes roam the streets, taking in the sight of couples basking in each other’s company. Some sit on benches, lost in charming conversation, their eyes speaking more than words ever could. Others walk hand in hand, laughing softly under the dim glow of streetlights. A father hoists his child onto his shoulders while his wife clings to his arm, their fingers intertwined—a picture of love so simple yet profound. Somewhere across the street, a woman clutches a bouquet of red and white roses, tears glistening in her eyes. Reconciliation, perhaps. And then there are the old couples, their hands wrinkled yet still clasped together, surrounded by children and grandchildren, whose laughter fills the air with warmth.
I can’t bear to look any longer. Bitterness coils around my chest, forcing my gaze back inside the car. I have tasted love once—its essence, its depth, its overwhelming pull. And yet, I still search for it. The world may claim that I possess everything a man could ever want, but they don’t understand. What I want most are the things I am forbidden to have.
But that’s what we humans do, isn’t it? We chase the missing pieces. We break rules. We yearn for what is beyond reach. We are flawed beings, perfectly imperfect in our desires.
Lost in my thoughts, I barely notice when we finally arrive. The car slows to a halt, and I step out, inhaling deeply as the night air brushes against my skin.
“Zoren, park the car and have dinner with the driver over there,” I instruct, motioning towards a night restaurant across the street. “I’ll be a while.”
Zoren nods without question and disappears into the night. As soon as they leave, I turn towards the house and press the doorbell. Seconds pass before the door swings open, revealing Eurika.
The moment our eyes meet, I see it—anger, simmering beneath the surface, ready to boil over. She opens her mouth, prepared to unleash whatever fury she has stored, but I don’t give her the chance. Stepping inside, I shrug off my jacket, tossing it over the stand near the door.
“Where is she?” My voice is calm, indifferent.
I walk towards the living area and sink onto the sofa, pressing my fingers to my temple. A dull headache creeps in—perhaps from the brandy, perhaps from the impending argument. Either way, I close my eyes, hoping for a moment’s reprieve.
But Eurika doesn’t grant me that luxury.
“Hah! You’re asking where she is?” she scoffs, arms crossed tightly against her chest. “Why don’t you ask yourself where you’ve been at this hour of the night?!”
A smirk tugs at my lips. There it is—that sharp, accusing tone. I can already imagine how she must have berated Zoren over the phone. Her temper is intimidating to most, but not to me. She knows better than to truly test my patience.
I sigh, standing up. Our faces are mere inches apart now, close enough for her to catch the scent of alcohol lingering on my breath.
“She’s asleep then,” I say, feigning innocence. I straighten my sleeves, preparing to walk past her, but her voice cuts through the air again, sharper this time.
“Have you been drinking?!” she exclaims. “So that’s why you took so long to come here?!”
I ignore her and make my way towards the stairs, but then—
“You’re so irresponsible!” she seethes. “You show up here, drunk, as if it’s nothing? You’re taking your daughter’s love for granted! Have some shame, Pervince!”
That’s the breaking point.
My movements halt, every muscle in my body tensing with anger. A slow, simmering rage coils within me, threatening to unravel. In a split second, I close the distance between us, my hands gripping her throat—not tight enough to harm, but enough to silence her.
She stumbles back, her spine pressing against the wall as I step forward. My left hand releases her, but my right tightens slightly, my frustration palpable. With a sudden force, I slam my free hand against the wall beside her head. The sound echoes through the room, and she flinches, eyes widening in startled fear.
For a moment, she truly believes I might strike her. And for a fleeting second, I almost wish I could. But for the sake of my daughter, I restrain myself.
“Do you have any idea how insufferable you are right now?” My voice is low, menacing, each word slipping through gritted teeth. “You are completely and utterly exasperating! How dare you say that to me?”
I press her further against the wall, my gaze burning into hers. Her fingers clutch at my wrist, a weak attempt to pry herself free, but she knows she’s powerless against my strength, especially now—especially when I’m like this.
“Let me go, Pervince! You’re hurting me!” she whimpers, struggling against my grip.
“Then you shouldn’t have angered me,” I bite back. “Tell me, woman, what do you want from me?”
I lean in, our faces mere inches apart, the heat of my anger radiating between us. She stops fighting. Her breathing falters, her hands trembling against my wrist. Her eyes remain locked onto mine, but then something shifts. Slowly, her gaze drops—from my burning stare to my nose, her breathing becoming heavier, uneven. And then, lower still—to my lips.
I watch her carefully, unable to ignore the way her throat moves as she swallows hard. I can’t help but wonder… what is she thinking?
- Writer
