In the grandiose expanse of the Adrienne estate, where every room screamed wealth and refinement, lives a man named Alexander Adrienne, yes, the one and only son of a wealthy empire me, Alexander Adrienne which sometimes also sounded like adrenaline to my high school bullies, who found pleasure in teasing me mercilessly , well I miss those days, they tried to physically bully me as well , but I ended up beating them to a pulp as I was trained in self defence.
So yes, I am the reluctant heir of an empire built on silver spoons and family dysfunction. Don't get it wrong my family is extremely wealthy but it's literally the definition of a "symphony of dysfunction".
I am, a fervent atheist, I Don't believe God exists, or anything in between, no God, no devils just human choices, I often wondered if divine intervention might be the only remedy for the pandemonium that defined my family. My father, who is a towering figure with an unquenchable thirst for corporate conquests, has always been more absent than present my whole life. I would attempt bonding which would usually result in terse directives about "responsibility" and "the future of the Adrienne legacy." It's always about legacy with my father, sometimes I wonder when he looks at me if he sees his son or a business partner. It is as if we live with a stranger who claims to be our father by title alone.
My mother, on the other hand, is a woman of leisure who finds solace in the luxurious embrace of high-end boutiques and has a closet that could rival a high-end department store. Her closet is its own clothing store, my sisters are models but even they don't have those many clothes, While she found herself in the latest fashion trends, we as her children had to navigate the maze of the dysfunctional family dynamics on our own.
She let nannies raise us, at this point, we are closer with our nannies than our own parents, and quite frankly Nannie Magret, or Margie as we love to call her is the only one who knows about my diagnosis, the only one who has comforted me as I wept uncontrollably in those motherly soothing warm arms of hers, because I couldn't bring myself to tell the family yet. she was the only one I was comfortable telling first.
I also have Two identical twin sisters, Olivia and Isabella, who are the diamonds in the rough of this chaotic family. They have managed to slip through the cracks of the "Adrienne legacy", pursuing careers as successful models. Their lives were a testament to their ability to escape the gravitational pull of family drama. I am kind of jealous, I wish I could have escaped.
Their unique gorgeous enabled them to get away with so much, and since they were identical no one but me and Margie could tell them apart, they would get themselves into so many shenanigans at school and even in the house.
one day I sat in the tense atmosphere of the principal's office, where my identical twin sisters, Olivia and Isabella, sat side by side, their striking similarities making it nearly impossible for anyone else to distinguish between them, while the principal, Mrs. Rodriguez, addressed the alleged cheating incident with a stern gaze.
"Olivia, the surveillance footage is clear – you were seen by girls exchanging outfits so you could write each other's exams in the girl's bathroom, just before the exam, " Mrs. Rodriguez declared.
Olivia you were seen wearing a ponytail and those clothes your sister, clearly! has on right now when you arrived this morning and your sister was seen wearing the clothes you are wearing with curly hair as she does now. he paused
" AND TO ADD TO THAT THE GIRLS HEARD YOU TWO TALKING TO EACH OTHER, THAT YOU SHOULD MAKE SURE YOUR HANDWRITING IS SIMILAR AS WELL!!"
the principal bellowed angrily in an attempt to scare them into honesty
My twin sisters exchanged glances, their expressions mirroring each other perfectly. In unison, they vehemently denied the accusation. "We didn't cheat, Principal Rodriguez. we would never," they insisted.
The principal turned to me, the only person who could tell them apart. As their sibling, but yet I found myself caught in a moral dilemma. Olivia shot me a subtle, pleading look, and Isabella gave me a reassuring nod.
"I can't be sure," I stammered, doing my best to mask the truth, torn between loyalty and honesty.
mom, sensing the ambiguity, spoke up, "I trust my girls. They wouldn't do something like this."
With a heavy sigh, Mrs. Rodriguez conceded, "Without clear evidence, I have no choice but to let this go. Remember, honesty is crucial. You may go."
As my twin sisters left the office, they exchanged relieved glances, grateful for the unspoken solidarity that allowed them to escape the consequences of their mischievous swap, leaving me to grapple with my conflicted emotions.
they just seemed to get away with things while I was dragged through the intricacies of corporate meetings and high-stakes negotiations, my whole life, and I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that my true calling lay elsewhere, for example, Music had always been my refuge, a sanctuary where the cacophony of family chaos melted away into a symphony of my own creation.
When I was 14 One evening, amidst the crystal chandeliers and marble floors, I gathered the courage to confront my father about my true passion. I hoped that he would finally understand, but boy was I wrong, the conversation didn't go as planned. It went south very quickly, with my dad saying that he didn't care if I wanted to be a musician, because Music won't pay the bills," and he dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "You're inheriting this company, and that's final." Was his last words to me that day and From that day on I decided to be as rebellious as possible.
One day, after a particularly gruelling board meeting with my dad as he was teaching me the world of business investors, I decided it was time to revisit my musical roots. I dusted off the neglected guitar that had spent years languishing in the corner of my room, its strings longing to be plucked. The melodies that had once flowed effortlessly from my fingers now felt foreign, but the more I played, the more the music rekindled a spark within me.
mother had happened to pass by the slightly ajar door, paused at the unfamiliar sound. Her perfectly manicured brows furrowed in confusion. "Alexander Adrienne, what on earth is that racket?"
I continue, undeterred, continued to strum the guitar, the notes weaving a tapestry of rebellion. "It's called music, Mother. You should try listening to it sometime."
she smiled lightly and came in to sit near me and listened as i played and for the first time in my life, i actually felt like life was normal, as the music faded in an amazing melody.
she smiled lightly and came in to sit near me and listened as i played and for the first time in my life, i actually felt like life was normal, as the music faded in an amazing melody [https://img.wattpad.com/3124a1ebe6972a937e21696b92b3f79294c12849/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f33467764434b79393177684f61413d3d2d313431333236303336372e313761613337303936323236346166303835343931363739343736362e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
The next family dinner was a smorgasbord of awkwardness. somehow Mum must have thought it was a great idea and told Father about me playing the guitar and Father bit my ear off on that one with, "This is not the time for your adolescent fantasies, Alexander. We have a legacy to uphold."
After that incident, I promised myself that when got older I would buy my first house, away from my parents, and in every country in case of business arrangements, I always found humour in the absurdity of it all. During one particularly tense board meeting, I slipped a rock ballad into the presentation slides. The unsuspecting board members, expecting pie charts and financial projections, but oh boy were they treated to a surprise performance as electric guitar riffs blared through the conference room speakers.
My dad almost had a heart attack that day but sadly he didn't die, they say bad people don't die as quickly, and I guess they were right, this whole dynamic of my family made me grow too quickly and mature quicker than my peers.
which made me lose a lot of friends as they found me to be boring, and to make up for it I have had to let myself be peer pressured in situations to keep my remaining friendships around.
This led me to be in a lot of trouble at home and school as I started smoking weed at a young age, and drowning myself in alcohol just to keep myself sane, one of my closest friends mike would spend almost every night drinking 🍻 with me till we pass out.
while my best of friends was Olivia Sánchez, who I had first met In the hazy memories of kindergarten, where everything felt like a colourful dream,
The day i had met Olivia. I knew She was different, with her oversized glasses and a spirit that refused to conform. I, on the other hand, I was the kid who insisted on wearing a suit every day.
It drew the attention of some misguided souls who thought it was fun to pick on the boy in a suit. That's when Olivia stepped in, her voice carrying a courage beyond her years.
"Why are you picking on him?" she demanded, her tiny frame radiating defiance. I stood there, wide-eyed and grateful for the unexpected rescue.
"Yeah! Why?" I echoed, finding courage in her support. From that moment, a bond was formed that would shape the course of our lives.
Fast forward through the years, and Olivia and I were still inseparable. We faced the trials of growing up together she was also wealthy but not as wealthy as I was, her family owned most of the restaurants around, they had a much greater family reunion then mine.
our friendship evolving with each passing grade.
she has been my refuge in ways she doesn't even realise, her king heart levelling my cold unimpressed dementor, her warmth cloaking my sulken doom moods. she is the rainbow after the storm.
One day, while reminiscing about that kindergarten rebellion, I teased her as she sat by the burn fire burning the marshmallow she was supposed to fry by the fire a little, "Remember the suit saga? You were my hero that day."
Olivia chuckled as she threw away the now burned stick and blackened marshmallow, her eyes sparkling with shared memories. "Your little suit was so cute. I couldn't let those bullies ruin your style."
"Well, thank you for that. I think it set the tone for our epic friendship," I replied with a grin.
As the years went by, our connection deepened. In high school, facing the challenges of teenagerhood, Olivia once again became my anchor. One day, after a particularly tough exam, I slumped into a seat next to her, sighing dramatically. "I'm pretty sure that math test just aged me a decade."
Olivia laughed, nudging me playfully. "Come on, Alex, we survived kindergarten bullies. This is nothing."
"You always know how to make me feel better," I admitted, appreciating the steadiness she brought to my life.
And so, from the kindergarten battleground to the rollercoaster of adolescence, Olivia and I continued our journey side by side, our dialogues and shared laughter weaving the story of a friendship that began with a simple question on a kindergarten playground: "Why are you picking on him?"
As my teen years seemed to pass without a glimpse like finding shadows , my rebellion grew and although Olivia my best friend and sometimes Mike my high school friend were there for me , I grew to resent my father and came up with weirdest ways to miss business ventures, lose big investment because of my lack of interest or screw up business meetings and although I grew out of it, my sisters, residing in their glamorous worlds as successful models, found amusement in my antics as I tried to hold on to my youth. They would occasionally send me snapshots from exotic photo shoots with captions like, "Wish you were here, bro! The only board we care about is a surfboard."
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Yet, amid the humour, I felt like I couldn't escape the harsh reality of my impending inheritance. The weight of the family company pressed down on me like a grand piano suspended by a fraying rope. I had forsaken my dreams of a musical career and traded the spotlight for the boardroom, and each corporate decision felt like another note in a mournful dirge. I am feeling gloomier and gloomier each day and since my diagnosis, I don't want to live like this anymore but I don't know what to do.
To top this off I don't know what to tell my family or my friends about my diagnosis, like what am I supposed to say, hi everybody! I am dying very soon..... yeah, no thanks.
The morning light barely breached the office windows, a muted glow over the towering Adrien Towers. The day began, but my internal storm was already raging. Alexander Adrien, they call me—billionaire, success personified. But today, I'm just a man, battling an invisible adversary.
"Good morning, Mr. Adrien," Olivia, my personal assistant, greeted me. Her perceptive eyes noticed the fatigue etched on my face, but I masked it with a smile that barely reached my eyes.
As the day stretched ahead, heavy with meetings and decisions, I trudged forward, each step an echo of a silent mantra: "Today is just one day; I can endure it." I whispered to myself ,getting a confused glace from Olivia.
The conference room became a battlefield where every word felt like a gunshot. "We need your input on these projections," a colleague implored. I nodded, a gesture more automatic than sincere. Hours passed, each minute a reminder of the internal storm. Leaning against the table, I grimaced—a fleeting expression of the pain I refused to voice. "Everything alright, sir?" Olivia's concern cut through the meeting's clamour. I smiled, a forced gesture, and replied, "Just a bit tired, Olivia. Nothing to worry about."
The clock ticked mercilessly, each second amplifying my ordeal. "Lunchtime, sir. Shall I arrange something?" Olivia inquired. I managed a nod, and as the door closed behind me, I slumped into my chair. "You can do this," I whispered, a mantra that echoed louder than the bustling office outside. I quickly chunked down pain medicine like my life depended on it, making sure no one saw me .
The afternoon wore on, my determination a silent pact. I avoided fainting, steering clear of the abyss. But my body language betrayed the toll—a subtle sway in my step, a hesitant grip on my pen. In a mid-afternoon meeting, dizziness threatened to engulf me. I steadied myself, offering a strained smile as if challenging the unseen adversary. "Let's continue, shall we?" I suggested, my voice wavering but my resolve unbroken.
As the day neared its end, my silent victory was almost tangible. Stepping out of the office, Olivia couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. "Mr. Adrien," she began tentatively. "I've noticed... she began softly , that you seem different today. Are you sure everything is okay?" I met her gaze, annoyance surging through me as I felt my vulnerability surfacing before I masked it with a practiced smile that told her it was none of her business and reluctantly replied. "Just a rough day, Olivia. Nothing I can't handle."
Arriving home, I retreated to the solitude of my sanctuary. The door closed behind me, and the façade crumbled. Leaning against the door, I allowed the weight of the day to register. "One day at a time," I whispered, as if convincing myself.
The evening took on a surreal quality as I re-entered the public sphere, donning the mask of affluence and power. Maggie, my steadfast nanny with her grey hair and kind eyes, stood by the entry way probably waiting for me to get home like she does every day, she noticed the fracture in my composure. "It's been a rough day, Maggie," I admitted. Her eyes softened with understanding, and she enveloped me in a comforting embrace. "Tomorrow is a new day, dear. You did well today; you can do it again tomorrow."
As the night progressed, I orchestrated a charade for my workers, a performance worthy of the stages I'd never graced. Smiles were exchanged, laughter echoed through the halls, yet the heaviness lingered beneath the surface. Maggie, perceptive as ever, observed the act but chose not to pierce the veil. "Rest well, Alexander," she said, a silent prayer woven into her words.
And so, under the watchful eyes of the moon through my window, I faced the night with a weary yet undefeated spirit. The echoes of the horrible day resonated, but within the silence of my bedroom, a resolution was formed—a promise to face each tomorrow with the same grit that had carried me through today.
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The next morning the sun cascaded through the expansive windows of my penthouse as always, illuminating the opulence that surrounded me [https://img.wattpad.com/300958518767425db64146a0c095eef789a1167a/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f7169634737652d584e734f5762673d3d2d313431333236303336372e3137616466396535393265613936653339323532363537363934382e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
The next morning the sun cascaded through the expansive windows of my penthouse as always, illuminating the opulence that surrounded me.
My bed, adorned with silken sheets, beckoned reluctantly as I pushed myself up.
It was just another day I had to go though , I reassured myself .
As I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, I couldn't ignore the persistent twinge in my abdomen. The pain was a constant companion, a clandestine tormentor that had embedded itself within the very fabric of my existence. I reached for the prescribed medication on the bedside table, a small but potent cocktail that temporarily subdued the relentless ache.
The mahogany floors beneath my feet felt cool and unforgiving as I made my way to the bathroom. In the mirror, I faced the reflection of a man whose exterior projected an image of invincibility. Custom-tailored suits, a chiselled jawline, and steel-blue eyes that betrayed nothing but authority.
Yet, beneath the veneer of success, an insidious force gnawed at the core of my being – cancer. I had concealed this harrowing secret from the world, from my family, and from the employees who admired the façade I meticulously crafted.
After a shower that did little to wash away the weariness, I dressed in a charcoal grey suit, the fabric brushing against my skin as if it could somehow erase the looming spectre of mortality. A row of meticulously arranged medications stood on the vanity, a reminder of the fragility that lay beneath the polished exterior.
I descended the grand staircase of my penthouse, greeted by the hushed whispers of the domestic staff. The chauffeur-driven limousine awaited me, a symbol of my success and a cocoon that shielded me from the prying eyes of the city below.
The journey to Adrienne Towers, the towering edifice that bore my name, was a silent procession. My gaze drifted across the city skyline, an empire I had conquered. Yet, as the limousine glided through the bustling streets, I couldn't escape the nagging thought that my reign was nearing its end.
Upon arriving at the office, I stepped into a realm where power was tangible. The hum of productivity, the orchestrated symphony of phones ringing and keyboards clacking, reverberated through the pristine corridors.
I moved among my employees like a silent observer. Brief conversations unfolded – inquiries about families, updates on projects, and the usual corporate pleasantries. My executive assistant, Olivia, who shares the same name as my sister and my best friend, walked beside me, her efficient exterior concealing the concern that lingered in her eyes, professional as always.
In my spacious corner office, Olivia and I delved into the preparations for the impending board meeting. Papers were shuffled, reports analysed, and strategies outlined. I engaged in this corporate ballet, a masterful performance that masked the turmoil within.
The clock inexorably ticked toward the appointed hour. The boardroom, a sanctum where decisions that reverberated through the business world were made, awaited my presence. I entered, greeted by the expectant gazes of the board members.
As the meeting progressed, I felt an unsettling tremor beneath my stoic exterior. A wave of nausea surged, and the room blurred into a disorienting haze. Desperation clawed at me as I tried to maintain composure. The façade cracked, and amidst the polished veneer of the boardroom, the symptoms intensified. lights flickered, sounds distorted, and I found myself ensured in a cruel familiar embrace of an epileptic episode, the world resolved to chaos, and the next moment, darkness swallowed me whole, and then .... nothing.
Consciousness returned in fragments, my surroundings a blur of antiseptic white [https://img.wattpad.com/71136c5e1e58c2e6c817ed19ff6039a584272732/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f39773747667977337357754753413d3d2d313431333236303336372e313761646639623466663165663731323731303139323537373233312e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Consciousness returned in fragments, my surroundings a blur of antiseptic white. The beeping of monitors echoed in the sterile room, a dissonant melody that underscored the gravity of the situation. I turned my head, was greeted by concerned faces, the first person I saw was my assistant Olevia sitting quite to close for my comfort but she looked worried as usual and then it was my mom who looked like she fought with a hair dryer, then my two twin sisters Olivia and Isabella who both looked like they sprayed the whole world spray tan on themselves, and finally father who's features looked softer or maybe my eyes were fooling me.
"You had a seizure," Olivia's voice cut through the fog. "We called an ambulance."
The truth, like a malevolent spectre, loomed before me. I had reached the precipice, and the façade I had meticulously crafted was unravelling. The unspoken secret, the relentless adversary within, could no longer be contained.
Amidst tearful embraces and whispered promises of get-well-soon, I confronted the reality that I had evaded for far too long. The veneer of invincibility shattered, revealing a man vulnerable and mortal.
As my family and Olivia waited for an explanation, I knew the time had come to unburden my soul. The truth, long confined to the shadows, demanded liberation. The words trembled on my lips, a confession of frailty, mortality, and the profound isolation that accompanies the burden of wealth and power.
"I have liver c...cancer and severe epilepsy, the doctors have told me I don't have long to live, only a few months" I managed to croak.
silence.... no one breathed or moved a muscle, it was a deafening silence that seemed to last a lifetime.
finally, the silence was cut short by my mom breaking into the loudest cry I had ever heard in my life, she was joined by my sisters who dropped to the hard-tiled hospital floor as if life had left them.
my however father looked like he had been stabbed and left for dead while Olivia my assistant tried to hold her tears and excused herself for us to have more privacy, I however managed to see her disappointment as she shut the door, behind her.
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The sterile hospital room seemed emptier as Alexander's family left, their worried glances and hushed whispers echoing in his ears [https://img.wattpad.com/3ab28aa99b4b6b7d74643a7ca2862675df5f18dd/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f445853476c467746506e787a74413d3d2d313431333236303336372e313761646662386537643564636631313334303738383434383132392e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
The sterile hospital room seemed emptier as Alexander's family left, their worried glances and hushed whispers echoing in his ears. The sombre atmosphere settled heavily, and Alexander, pale against the white sheets, turned his gaze towards the window.
Olivia, usually poised and efficient, hovered near his bedside. Her eyes betrayed the turmoil within—uncertainty, fear, and a longing that had been suppressed for far too long. She took a deep breath, gathering the courage to breach the barrier that separated professional boundaries from personal revelations.
"Mr. Adrien," Olivia began tentatively, her voice quivering with emotion, as she tried to put professionalism aside at the end of the day they were friends. "Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?"
Alexander glanced at her, a hint of gratitude in his tired eyes. "Thank you, Olivia. But right now, I think I just need some time alone."
Nodding, Olivia withdrew slightly, her eyes never leaving his face. The room was silent, save for the rhythmic hum of the machines monitoring his weaken vital signs. In the midst of the quiet, Olivia found her voice, a torrent of feelings she could no longer contain.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she blurted out, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. "We've known each other since we were kids, Alexander. We were supposed to be honest with each other."
"okay, yes technically I work for you and you are my boss but we are friends, right ? she finished her brows raised.
He sighed, the weight of his mortality palpable. "I didn't want to burden you, Liv. I thought I could handle it alone, in my defence no one else knew not even mike knew ."
"But we're not kids anymore, Alexander," Olivia retorted, frustration etched across her features. "You could've told me. I asked you yesterday, and you said you were just tired."
His gaze dropped, unable to meet her accusing eyes. "I didn't want to worry you. I thought I could keep this to myself."
Olivia's frustration boiled over, and she snapped, "Worry me? Alexander, I've loved you since we were kids. I've watched you get sicker and sicker, and all this time, you kept it from me. I can't just stand here and watch you die, does this look like a joke to you?."
He reached out to her, his hand extending as if to offer comfort, but Olivia pulled away, her expression hardening. "Don't. Don't pretend like everything is fine. I can't do this, Alexander. I can't watch you fade away, not when you could've let me in, let me be there for you."
A heavy silence settled in the room, broken only by the distant sounds of the hospital. Alexander's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Olivia's anger shifted into a raw, heart-breaking sadness.
"I never wanted to hurt you, Liv," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yet here we are," Olivia replied bitterly. "You've hurt me more by keeping this from me. We were supposed to face things together, Alexander. Childhood friends, remember?"
The weight of their shared history hung in the air, a reminder of a time when they were inseparable. But now, the looming spectre of mortality had driven a wedge between them.
"What am I supposed to do now?" Olivia's voice wavered, caught between anger and sorrow. "Stay here and watch you wither away? I can't do it, Alexander. I just can't."
He looked up at her, tears now streaming down his cheeks. "Liv, please don't go. I need you here with me."
Olivia's resolve wavered, her own tears threatening to spill. "I can't be here, Alexander. Not like this. It's too much."
Their eyes locked, a chasm widening between them. Olivia turned to leave, but Alexander's plea halted her in her tracks.
"I love you, Olivia. I always have. Don't leave me alone."
The words hung in the air, heavy with regret and unspoken longing. Olivia closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks, torn between her love for him and the pain of watching him slip away.
"I love you too, Alexander," she whispered, her voice breaking. "But I can't stay. I can't watch you die."
And with that, Olivia turned away, leaving Alexander alone in the silent hospital room, the gravity of his impending farewell settling in. The door closed softly behind her, echoing the finality of a love torn apart by the cruel hands of fate.