The clock struck midnight, but Aiden Sterling barely heard it over the pounding of his heart. The mansion — once alive with laughter, music, and flashing lights — now stood hollow. Dead.
Just like him inside.
A crumpled invitation lay on the marble floor, forgotten amid broken champagne glasses and cigarette butts: "Sterling's Legendary Night - By Invitation Only."
It was supposed to be his night. His victory lap.
The golden boy of Crestmont Academy.
The heir to the Sterling fortune.
The one everyone either loved, envied, or wanted.
Instead, it became the night the world turned its back on him.
He staggered through the vast living room, the slick smell of spilled alcohol and sweat clinging to the air. His tailored white shirt was torn at the collar, blood staining the fabric where a punch had landed earlier — courtesy of someone he once called a friend.
"You thought you were untouchable, huh?" the voice had sneered in his memory. "Without your money, you're nothing but trash like the rest of us."
The betrayal hit harder than any fist.
His so-called friends.
His girlfriend, Alina — the girl he thought he would marry someday — kissing someone else right in front of him, laughing like he was a joke.
The fake smiles of classmates who waited until the very moment his family's bankruptcy was announced to pounce, tearing him apart like wolves.
"I never loved you," Alina had whispered, sweet and venomous, before she slipped into another man's arms. "I loved your name. Your money."
Aiden gripped the edge of a broken table, breathing hard. The rage burning inside him barely masked the crushing weight of shame.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Another notification. Another public humiliation.
> BREAKING: The Rise and Fall of Crestmont's Golden Boy!
> Aiden Sterling Caught Begging at His Own Party!
He yanked the device out and smashed it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand glittering pieces — like the life he used to have.
A single memory flashed across his mind — one of simpler days.
Back when his mother was alive, gently stroking his hair, whispering:
"You are not your wealth, Aiden. When the world burns your castle down, build an empire from the ashes."
He dropped to his knees, broken, bleeding, alone.
And yet — somewhere beneath the ruin of who he was — a spark refused to die.
The world had kicked him down, spat on him, and turned its back.
Good.
Let them.
Because the boy named Aiden Sterling was dead tonight.
But from the ashes... something darker, sharper, and far more dangerous would rise.
He swore it, right there, with bloodied knuckles pressed against the cold, cruel floor:
They would regret ever thinking he was finished.
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