The lights of the city's skyscrapers sprawled beneath my feet like a glittering sea of gold, but my gaze was fixed on the void beyond. My name is Zack. To the world, I am simply the heir to the Robert empire—the son of a billionaire whose single whisper can bend the law and whose wealth flows like an endless, untamed river. My father's reach is so absolute that he can transform a cold-blooded crime into a mere "accident" with a single phone call.
If you harbor any illusions of me being a virtuous heir, discard them now. I am the prodigal son, the crown prince of chaos, the man the elite call 'The Calamity.' My life is a blur of high-end drugs, exorbitant fortunes, a different woman every night, and a perpetual, mocking smirk etched onto my lips. Love? To me, it is nothing but a syllable used by the weak—a sentiment I discarded long ago. My only job is to party, burn through my father's millions, and live exactly how I please.
Five shadows—my personal vanguard—trail me everywhere. They live to protect my breathing, and they are trained to cease yours at my command.
The air that day carried a suffocating heaviness. I was at the mall, my fleet of three pitch-black SUVs forming an iron blockade in the parking lot. I was immersed in a high-stakes business call when a voice, devoid of the mandatory fear I was accustomed to, shattered my focus.
"Move your car a little; I need to get mine out," a young man barked at my lead guard.
My guard stepped forward, his frame looming over the stranger. "This vehicle belongs to Sir Zack. Watch your tongue."
The boy looked at me with an infuriating lack of recognition. "Sir Zack? Who the hell is that?"
I stood there, the midday sun reflecting off my face. The boy met my gaze and repeated, "Move your car aside."
I gave him a dismissive flick of my wrist—a silent command to wait. I went back to my call, but the boy was persistent. "Sir, move your car now!" he roared again.
My patience snapped like a dry twig. I lowered the phone, my eyes burning with a dark, predatory fury. "You pathetic insect, do you not understand? I am on a call!" I bellowed.
"Don't curse at me," he retorted, standing his ground. "Just move the car."
Fury boiled in my veins. Without another word, I lunged forward and delivered a thunderous slap that echoed through the entire parking lot. Silence fell. But then, the unthinkable happened—the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
The boy lunged back and slapped me.
My guards instantly drew their weapons, the air filling with lethal clicks. I raised a hand, stopping them mid-motion. This insult required a personal touch. I reached into my waistband and drew my custom-made pistol. The cold steel felt like a natural extension of my soul.
"You dared to lay a hand on me?" I whispered, my voice turning to ice.
He opened his mouth to speak, but I gave him no mercy.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Five rounds. Five crimson craters in his chest. He crumpled like a ragdoll, his blood staining the cold concrete of the mall parking lot. I didn't even flinch. I simply holstered the weapon and looked at the mess. "Clean this up," I commanded my guards and stepped into my SUV.
When I arrived at the mansion, the atmosphere was already electric with tension. My lead guard approached my father, his voice trembling. "Sir Robert... Sir Zack... he murdered a boy today."
My father's eyes snapped toward me, burning with a cold, terrifying rage. "Is he telling the truth?" he demanded.
I looked at him with total indifference. "Yeah. So what? It's just a murder."
The words had barely left my lips when my father's hand connected with my face in a stinging slap. "Have you lost your mind?!" he roared.
Fuming with silent rage, I didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer. I turned around and stormed toward my room. Behind me, I could hear him yelling at my mother, "Look at him! Look at how spoiled he has become!"
My mother was trembling with fear. She pleaded with him, her voice breaking into sobs. "Robert, please do something! The police will take him away. Please, save him! You're the one who spoiled him, you made him this way—now you have to protect him!"
I slammed my bedroom door shut, drowning out their cries. I didn't care. I am Robert's son, and Robert's son never loses.But little did I know… in that moment, it wasn't my father, Robert, who was about to lose. It was my fate that was finally running out."
This is the beginning of my story.
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