Asher's POV
Pain. Depression. Sadness.
I used to wonder what people really meant when they said they were in pain. What does it feel like to be depressed, to feel like the weight of the world is crushing your chest and you're suffocating under your own thoughts? I remember hearing people say, "I feel sad. I want to cry, but I can't." I used to think they were being dramatic. But now... now I understand.
I've felt all those emotions—not separately, not one after the other, but all at once—for the past seven years. They've wrapped themselves around me like a second skin. I live with them. I breathe them. They're the only emotions that seem real to me anymore. Happiness feels foreign. Joy? Unreachable. Laughter? Forced. The only things I can genuinely feel now are pain and emptiness. A hollow existence dressed in a well-tailored suit.
People say crying brings relief, that tears cleanse the soul. But what happens when your soul is already dry? When the tears won't come no matter how broken you feel? The last time I cried was the day Alfaro died—my last real connection to this world. That was six years ago, a year after I lost my father. Since then, my tears have dried up, just like my heart. Emotionally barren. My eyes sting sometimes, trying to produce tears they no longer remember how to make.
Sometimes, I close my eyes and imagine crying into someone's arms—someone who wouldn't judge me, someone who would let me fall apart without trying to fix me. I imagine being held, not out of obligation or duty, but love. A hug that says, "You're safe now." A voice that whispers, "It's okay to cry." Someone who would cry with me, wipe my tears, and not ask me to be strong. Just be with me.
I want that. I crave that kind of warmth. A mother's embrace. A father's pride. An uncle's affection. A cousin's loyalty. I wanted a family that would say, "That's my boy," not because of what I could give them, but because of who I was. I wanted to hear someone say, "That's my cousin, and yours could never." Just once. But life denied me even that.
It's laughable, really. I have no real family. Not anymore. My mother abandoned me. My father died too soon. The rest of them? They're nothing but parasites. The only reason they still breathe the same air as me is because of Nexus Corp. The empire my father built with his blood and sweat. They hover like vultures, waiting for me to crumble so they can tear it apart and feast on what's left.
But I'll never give it to them.
Nexus wasn't just a company—it was my father's legacy. My grandfather entrusted it to him, not out of favoritism, but because he believed in him. The others were given their shares, their fair cut, but they never worked a day to earn it. They squandered opportunities, never lifted a finger to build something of their own. And now that my father's gone, they want to reap what they didn't sow.
Over my dead body.
Even after death, if I could, I'd haunt them. Make their lives a living hell if they dared to touch what doesn't belong to them. I see their envy. I hear their whispers during family gatherings—backhanded compliments, sneers wrapped in silk. They don't say it to my face; they don't have the balls. But I hear them all the same. I hate those gatherings. Not because I'm afraid, but because I know I might lose control. I might end up beating the life out of those my father once called "brothers."
Except for Aiden. That bastard always crosses the line.
Today, he went too far. I'm convinced he was high—he has to be. He always hated me, always tried to emulate me, to compete. But deep down, he knows he'll never be me. He hides behind cheap bravado and pathetic jabs, but today? Today he dared say something he shouldn't have. Something that opened wounds I buried deep.
He mentioned her. My mother.
Even if what he said was true, the rage that erupted in me couldn't be contained. I snapped. I couldn't help it. The pain resurfaced, raw and pulsing. I saw her again, that day, standing at the edge of my world, about to walk away forever.
My father had just died. His body hadn't even turned cold. He was still lying on their bed—the bed they shared. I had just lost the only person in the world who gave a damn about me. And then she—my mother—packed her bags.
"Mom, please don't leave!" I remember the desperation in my voice, my body trembling as I clung to the edge of her coat. I was almost eighteen, but in that moment, I was just a broken boy pleading with the only parent he had left.
She looked at me, her eyes red from crying. "I'm sorry, dear. I have to leave." And just like that, she turned her back on me.
I watched her through the window. He was outside—some faceless man I couldn't even bring myself to see properly. She held his hand like he was her salvation. He carried her bags. She didn't even glance back. Not once.
"I need you, Mommy!" I had cried, my voice cracking. I stood at the window, frozen, hoping she would change her mind. That she'd come back and hold me. But she didn't. She disappeared from my life that day and never looked back.
I lost both of my parents in a single day.
If it wasn't for Alfaro… I probably wouldn't be here. He was the only reason I didn't break completely. He stayed. He fought for me. He reminded me of who I was. But even he left eventually—death snatched him too. That's when I truly became alone.
I blinked, the present crashing back in. I looked at the clock—almost 11 AM. I had been gone from Nexus Corp for three days. God knows what chaos awaited me there.
I scanned my room. It looked like a war zone. Broken mirrors, shattered glass, splintered wood from the table I destroyed, cigarette butts scattered like confetti, liquor bottles overturned. My rage always left destruction in its wake. Better the furniture than a person.
I stepped carefully around the glass, heading into the bathroom. The hot water stung my skin, but I welcomed it. Pain was familiar. Comforting, even. I scrubbed my body, washing away the filth of despair, then dressed quickly. When I came downstairs, my guards looked up, surprised. I saw it in their eyes.
He looks fine, they must have thought. Like nothing happened.
They greeted me respectfully. I nodded and said simply, "Let's leave for the Corp."
"Sir, breakfast?" Johnson, the head of my security, asked, motioning to the dining table.
It was laid out beautifully, a spread of eggs benedict, sautéed mushrooms, pancakes, avocado toast, smoked salmon, fresh fruit, and orange juice. The chef had done his job even when I hadn't come out in three days. I didn't want to eat—but something about their dedication pulled at the last shred of humanity I had.
I sat down and forced myself to eat. I couldn't let their effort go to waste.
After breakfast, we headed out. I left Johnson and two other guards behind. They would deal with the mess upstairs. This was the second set of furniture I'd destroyed this year, and it was only March. The first time was when Ronald, another leech of a cousin, tried to force a connection between me and his sister. I didn't take that well either.
This was why I kept people at a distance. Why I isolated myself. When the emotions threatened to overwhelm me, I lashed out. I broke things. I broke myself. Better that than hurting someone else.
Usually, Arnoldo would have helped with the clean-up—my secretary and, oddly, my only confidant these days. But he was away visiting his grandparents. He said he'd be gone for two days. It had been almost a week. I tried calling him. No answer. Texts left on read. And with how unstable things were at Nexus Corp now, I needed him more than ever.
I stared out the tinted window of the car, the city blurring past. Tall buildings, flashing lights, people with places to be and loved ones to go home to. I wondered what it felt like to have that. To not have your every move watched, envied, or judged. To not carry a legacy you didn't ask for. To not feel so fucking alone even in a crowd.
But I'm Asher Fernando. The heir. The broken king of an empire. And no matter how deep the pain cuts, I can't bleed in front of them. I won't.
Let them think I'm heartless. Let them believe I feel nothing. Because if they ever saw the truth—the shattered boy behind the cold mask—they'd try to use it against me.
And I won't give them that satisfaction.
When I arrived at Nexus Corp, everyone at the reception stood and greeted me with smiles. I nodded curtly and headed for my private elevator, but the receptionist quickly called out to me.
"Sir, I tried calling you, but you weren't available. The shareholders are currently having a meeting," he said, bowing his head slightly.
I paused, letting a moment of silence stretch between us. "Okay," I finally said, my voice flat. They dared to hold a meeting without me.
I diverted toward the general elevator and pressed the button for the third floor—the conference room.
The moment I stepped into the room, their faces said it all. Shock. Guilt. Fear. They hadn't expected me. And they weren't glad to see me.
Only seven shareholders were present—all of them supporters of my uncles. And there he was—Uncle Marcelo—seated at my spot. My throne. Looking as comfortable as if he owned the place.
They all murmured greetings as I walked in, but I didn't slow down. I moved with the ease and authority of a king returning to his court. I returned their greetings with a brief nod. When I reached the seat, Marcelo was still sitting, testing my patience.
I gave him a look. Just a look.
He knew better than to push his luck. He stood, and I sat—claiming what was mine. The throne that only fits me.
"I see you all care deeply about the company's wellbeing," I said coldly, my tone laced with sarcasm.
No one answered. I didn't expect them to.
"Well?" I asked. "Mind briefing me on what was being discussed?"
Silence again.
"I also notice the shareholders aren't all present. What's going on here, Uncle?" I turned to Marcelo, who seemed to be calculating his response.
"Uh... we were discussing how to generate more income for the company. The others couldn't make it," he replied, fumbling through his words.
I shook my head. "That just shows how little they care. We'll deal with that later. What exactly has been discussed?" My eyes locked onto Mr. Raphael.
"Well... we... suggest—no, we decided—" he began, his voice faltering.
"I'm quite sure you wouldn't forget what you discussed just minutes ago," I cut in. "Unless, of course, that's not what you were really discussing."
"What are you trying to say?" Lorenzo asked, squinting at me.
"Maybe... you were discussing how to appoint a new leader," I said casually.
"What?" Lorenzo looked genuinely startled—and that told me everything I needed to know. They were planning to overthrow me. To install Marcelo as the head. A puppet leader they could control. And once that happened, getting rid of me would be easy.
"Just maybe, Uncle," I added with a fake smile. "It was a guess. Or let's say... a joke."
"You think we're children to be joked with?" Raphael snapped. He always had a short fuse.
"Oh, come on. We all joke around here," I shrugged. "You've done the same with me."
"You're too young to treat us like toys on a football field!" Raphael barked. "And what do we expect when a child tries to lead a company too big for him? You wanted to know what we discussed? Fine. We were discussing how to replace you with someone more responsible!"
I leaned forward, elbows on the table, rubbing my forehead with my fingers. Calm. Controlled.
"I may be young, but that doesn't change the fact that I am the leader. And I'm pretty damn sure none of you could accomplish what I've accomplished—at any age." I looked each one in the eye. One by one. They blinked first.
"And speaking of changing the leader—how would you go about that, exactly?"
"By vote," Raphael answered. "All seven of us here want Marcelo to be the leader. Out of twelve shareholders, only four are absent—with you that makes five. We're the majority. Making him the leader."
He gestured toward Marcelo, who tried to look humble but failed miserably.
I nodded slowly. "You're forgetting something, Raphael. Leadership here isn't decided by number of votes. It's determined by percentage of shares held. That's clearly written in the Nexus Constitution. And considering Marcelo's current shareholding... he doesn't qualify."
Their faces dropped. Reality hit them hard.
"Then we'll sell some of our shares to him," Raphael blurted out.
I almost laughed. "Let me remind you again—I own 51% of this company. The remaining 49% is split among the rest of you. Even if all of you sold every share to Marcelo, he'd still fall short. Especially with four shareholders who'd never sell."
Their last hope crumbled before them.
"Enough of this bullshit," Raphael exploded. "I can't stay in a company where someone so arrogant and cold is in charge. It's better I leave than work under you."
Ah, there it was. The dramatic exit.
"You own 5%," I said coolly. "How much do you want to sell it to him?"
"Two million dollars," he said defiantly.
Marcelo looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Raphael was obsessed with money, and I knew he wasn't serious with leaving—just throwing out threats. Empty ones.
"I might even lower the price since it's Marcelo," he added, like a desperate dog begging for praise.
"Max," I called. One of the guards at the door stepped forward. "Bring my bag."
He returned with it a moment later. I opened it calmly and pulled out my checkbook.
I signed and tore off a check, sliding it across the table toward Raphael.
"Here. 2.2 million dollars. Consider the extra 200k grand a thank-you bonus—for letting me know what kind of nonsense you were all up to."
"You can't just—!"
"I just did."
"I'm not selling anything!" he snapped, voice rising. "You can't buy me out like I'm some cheap stock!"
"Too late," I said, pocketing my pen. "Paperwork will be sent shortly. Sign it. Or don't. Either way, you're done here."
I looked around the table, soaking in their stunned silence like oxygen. "Anyone else want to sell? Or maybe join Raphael in his dramatic exit?"
No one moved.
Thought so.
I adjusted my suit, rising calmly from my seat.
And with that, I turned and walked out—leaving them in stunned silence, and Raphael shouting like a deranged street dog.