Chapter 2

When Harry's Ferrari SF90 pulled up in front of me, people couldn't help but glance over.

The scissor doors lifted, and I went inside the car.

"Ed, uh... What's with the suit? Just got out of a negotiation or something?" Harry teased, eyeing my outfit.

"I just flipped the negotiation table," I replied as I loosened my collar.

"Take me to the priciest club in town. And get your top girls—all of them—out here for me," I added.

Harry paused for a second, then gave a whistle.

"Whoa, what got into you?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied.

Leaning back in the seat, I closed my eyes and added, "I just finally saw things for what they are."

That night, I booked out the biggest VIP suite at a place called Aurelia Club.

Drinks just kept coming, like everything was on the house.

A crowd of chatty influencers and glamor girls flocked around me.

Their perfume was so strong that it gave me a headache, but I didn't chase them away.

I just sat there, quietly sipping my drink.

My phone vibrated nonstop.

I didn't need to look at it to know it was my dad and the old men from Lane Corporation blowing up my phone.

Ignoring the calls, I switched my phone to silent mode.

At that moment, a girl in a skimpy outfit leaned toward me, trying to pour me a drink.

"Ed, let me toast you," she cooed, her voice coquettish enough to make guys swoon over her.

Normally, I'd hate this kind of thing.

But tonight, I smiled.

I took the glass and downed the alcohol in one swift motion.

"Keep 'em coming," I said.

I lost track of how much I drank that night.

The only thing I remembered was Harry hauling me back home in the end.

The next morning, I woke up with a splitting headache.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, so bright it hurt my eyes.

I grabbed my phone and saw there were dozens of missed calls, as well as a message from Chris.

Chris: [Mr. Lane, Mr. Richard Lane wants you at the office today. Says it's important.]

I tossed my phone aside.

Important? Please.

How important could it possibly be?

I bet my dad just wanted me to go back and cover for that illegitimate son of his.

There was no way I was going over.

I lazily got out of my bed and washed up.

Then, I did something my dad would never have imagined.

I opened my closet and tossed all my pricey suits onto the floor.

Then I called my personal shopper.

"Send me the newest streetwear. Doesn't matter how over-the-top it looks—send me one set each," I ordered.

That afternoon, dressed in garish streetwear, I fired up Harry's Ferrari and rolled up to the biggest supercar club in town.

My dad despised my obsession with cars.

He called it a frivolous distraction, a path to a wasted life.

Well, today, I was going to live it up.

With a swipe of my card, I bought the latest Lamborghini Revuelto, paying for it in full.

The salesperson's eyes popped out of his head.

Word spread like wildfire.

No sooner had I put my card away than my dad called me.

This time, I picked up.

"Edward! What the hell are you doing?" my dad yelled, his voice tight with barely contained rage.

"I'm just buying a car," I drawled, sounding as nonchalant as ever.

"Where did you get the money?" he demanded.

"Dad, seriously? Mom left me shares in Lane Corporation. The annual dividends aren't exactly small change," I replied.

My mom passed away early, and her stake in Lane Corporation was handed over to me years ago.

I never touched them all these years.

But now, I was finally cashing in.

My dad was so furious that he couldn't even speak coherently. "You... you..."

I retorted, "Dad, didn't you want me to learn about human touch from your dear Andrew?

"I think blowing cash is about as human as it gets.

"Besides, isn't Andrew dying to be CEO anyway?

"As the former CEO, I gotta put some pressure on him, don't I?

"Otherwise, how's he ever gonna level up?

"See? Aren't I just the most considerate son you've ever seen?

"I'm your son as well, and even I need a bit of pampering. Am I right?"

I could hear my dad's heavy breathing from the other end of the line.

I reckoned I was about to give him a heart attack, which would be perfect anyway.

"All right. I gotta run; I've got a spa appointment," I uttered and hung up on him.

As I listened to the dial tone, the smirk on my lips grew wider.

This was just the beginning.

I wondered if my dad and Andrew were ready for what was coming next.

After all, I was the director of this show.