RISE OF AN ESTRANGED TRILLIONAIRE SON

Chapter3

The polished marble floor of the Harris mansion felt icy cold under Adrian’s feet. Standing by the corner of the entrance to the large sitting room, he held a silver tray with bottles of champagne. Seattle’s elites had gathered for Veronica’s “small party” in anticipation of Emily’s gala. The men in suits laughed, while the women donned in elegance gossiped. Adrian knew he didn’t matter. He was just there to serve. Even though he wasn’t hired. Well, maybe technically he was hired. Only that the only reward that came along with it, was Veronica’s venomous humiliation and disdain.

“Adrian! Stop standing there!” Veronica shouted. She walked toward him in her stunning green dress, smiling at the guests but frowning at him. “Do you think this is a coffee shop? Or is your poor mentality not smart enough to differentiate between a champagne and a coffee? The Andersons are thirsty. Get moving already. And don’t spill it this time. Or you’ll ever regret the day you brought your dirty self into this house” she hollered with a sneer. Pfft! Like he hadn’t regretted even knowing them since the day he “got married”. If that’s what he’ll call his condition.

He walked through the crowd of people with averting eyes. Someone by the piano laughed. But he kept his face blank and kept walking. Until he stopped in front of a man and woman who were dripping in diamonds. They were the Andersons.

“Champagne, sir? Madam?”

The man barely glanced, taking a glass. The woman waved him off without even looking twice. “No, thank you,” she said, already turning back to the person she was talking to. Adrian moved on. Across the room, he spotted Emily by the doors. She was dressed in a dark blue dress, speaking to an older man with silver hair. Her smile looked fake, and her eyes kept moving. For a second, she glanced at him, then quickly looked away and focused on the man again. It was so quick that it felt like she shouldn’t be caught even exchanging eye contact with him. Well, that’s what happens when one is ashamed of her spouse. Or better still, her supposed “spouse”.

Later, while picking up empty glasses, Adrian overheard some bits of conversation that confirmed exactly what he had been thinking all along.

“Veronica’s really holding the reins now, isn’t she?” a woman murmured to her companion.

“Practically running the board meetings,” the companion replied, sipping her drink. “Poor Emily. Figurehead. Barely gets a word in edgewise before Veronica shuts it down.”

“Hardly surprising. Veronica always knew how to get her way. Robert’s death just… expedited things.”

“Shame about the Carter boy, though. What a millstone.”

A soft, cruel laugh followed. “Quite. Veronica makes sure he knows his place.”

Adrian’s grip on the dirty glass tightened. Millstone. Place. The words seemed to be the reminder of his status in that house. Veronica never missed a chance to throw her favorite insults at him, usually while handing him some pointless task. “Freeloader.” “Trash.” “Useless.”

He wasn't just Emily’s unwanted husband. He was Veronica’s favorite punching bag. And a living symbol of Mr. Harris’s final, baffling act that she couldn’t overturn. And Emily? She was obviously trapped. Caught between the mother who saw her as a puppet and the husband she clearly despised. She was equally powerless. Just like him, in a gilded cage instead of a delivery van.

The quarterly Harris Industries board meeting was held two weeks after. Adrian, technically a shareholder by marriage, though his shares were held in trust controlled by Veronica, was expected to attend. Tradition, Veronica had sneered. “Harris’s ridiculous sentimentality.”

He entered the imposing boardroom. The all dark wood and leathered chairs surrounding a massive table, was enough to remind him of where this marriage had landed him. Veronica sat at the head, radiating authority. Emily sat stiffly to her right. The six board members, mostly older men who had served under Mr. Harris, took their seats. Adrian moved towards the empty chair beside Emily.

“Not there, Adrian,” Veronica’s cold voice spat disdain as she ordered. She didn’t even look up from the agenda. “You can observe. From there.” She gestured dismissively towards a small, hard-backed chair placed conspicuously against the wall, near the door. Away from the table. And away from any semblance of participation.

Emily’s head snapped up. “Mother—”

“Emily,” Veronica interrupted smoothly, finally looking at her daughter, a warning glint in her eye. “This is a board meeting. Not a family picnic. We have serious matters to discuss. Adrian doesn’t have the… background… to contribute meaningfully. He can listen. And maybe learn. But I won’t risk having his contribution to the detriment of this company” Her gaze flicked to Adrian, cold and triumphant. “Take the chair.”

Adrian met Emily’s eyes. He caught the quick flash of anger on her face, followed by the embarrassment that disappeared in a jiffy. She looked down at her hands, gripping the table. She didn’t say anything else. He moved to the chair by the wall and sat down. Just sitting there but not a part of it.

The meeting went on. It was the usual. Just talks about financial reports and bleak projections. Something he could contribute better towards if given the chance. But of course, Veronica was in charge. And he had to know his place.

Veronica dominated, with her commanding and decisive voice. She dismissed concerns about cash flow with a wave. “Temporary setbacks. Strategic repositioning.” Emily spoke once, tentatively suggesting a review of marketing expenditure. Veronica shot her down immediately. “Unnecessary, Emily. Focus on the figures I highlighted. We need aggressive cost-cutting, not frivolous spending.” The board members exchanged glances but remained silent. Veronica held the proxies, the purse strings, the palpable fear.

Adrian watched, as he listened attentively. He saw the fear in the board members’ eyes. He saw the frustration behind Emily’s controlled exterior, and Veronica’s iron grip. He noted the specific figures Veronica glossed over, the departments she targeted for “restructuring”. He noticed the subtle way she steered conversation away from certain accounts. And patiently, he kept storing it all. He knew it would count one day. He didn’t know how or when. But he knew It would happen. And all he had to do was be patient.