The night was dull and blustery, and deluges of downpour pelted the windows of Victor Authentic's lavish rooftop. Maybe the actual sky sobbed for the messed up dream that had once been his life. He remained by the transcending glass windows and peered out over the city underneath, his considerations as violent as the tempest outside. Victor Real has made some amazing progress from the unfortunate roads of his childhood. He worked his direction to the top and turned into an extremely rich person known for his savage shrewd in the realm of high money. His domain was based on desire, clever and a heartless will to control. As the tempest seethed, lightning enlightened the penthouse, momentarily uncovering the compensations of Victor's prosperity: costly workmanship, classical furnishings, and the sparkling chrome of a confidential bar loaded with the highest quality alcohol available. Yet, these sumptuous environmental factors offered him no solace. Something undeniably more significant had been taken from him and he was unable to consider something else. Everything began with one photograph.
A photograph shipped off him namelessly, taken at an affiliation party he went to seven days prior. In the photograph, he was trapped in an open second with his arm around a lady with gleaming earthy colored hair and a naughty grin. She was the exemplification of class and beauty and prevailed upon him from the second he met her. Yet, the photograph uncovered that she wasn't the only one he was entranced by. The lady in the photograph was Isabella Blackwell, inseparable from excellence, riches and outrage. He was the successor to a media combination and he was constantly engaged with a considerable lot of his undertakings in the early evening papers. Yet, Victor accepted that she was unique, that he was the person who prevailed upon her. As he kept on looking at the downpour doused city, his psyche hustled through the occasions of that disastrous party.
Isabella was close by the entire night, her chuckling like what he really wanted to hear. He even murmured in her ear that he planned to propose to her. She answered with a brilliant grin and a delicate kiss on his cheek. Yet, as the photograph brutally uncovered, she likewise imparted her expressions of warmth to another man, rival very rich person Charles Redwood. Seeing her in the arms of one more ignited in Victor's heart an outrage he had never experienced. He was unable to bear the prospect of being one of Isabella's numerous triumphs. His considerations were interfered with by the telephone ringing and he hesitantly got some distance from the window. The call came from his nearest comrade, Lawrence, who had been with him during the ascent of his domain. " Victor," Lawrence's voice got through the line. " I just got a call from the press.
They have this photograph of you and Isabella. It's all around the information." Victor grasped his clench hands, his jaw tight. He realized the photograph wouldn't remain confidential for a really long time, however the speed with which it spread was astonishing. He could as of now hear the murmurs of tattle and the decisions of the great society he had endeavored to get into. " What is a misfortune control plan?" Viktor asked in his chilly, quiet voice. " We have proactively started to contain what is going on," answered Lawrence. " We're putting out an announcement saying the photograph was taken inappropriately, that you and Isabella are simply companions. We're additionally uncovering some soil from the Sequoia Wood and delivering it to ease the pressure off of you." Victor gestured in understanding.
He realize that in the realm of extremely rich people, popularity is everything. He was unable to stand to be viewed as a peevish sweetheart, and he unquestionably couldn't allow Redwood to take Isabella from him. He needed to retaliate with every one of the powers available to him. After the discourse was done, Victor got back to the window, the tempest seething outside reflecting the tempest seething inside. He was a man of tenacious desire who rose from nothing to the top. Furthermore, he will remain determined to safeguard what is legitimately his. A wrecked dream is either reconstructed or destroyed, and Victor Real has chosen to be the planner of his own predetermination. Much to his dismay that his mission for retribution would lead him down a dim and tricky way that would move his convictions and power him to confront the evil spirits of his past. However, at that point, the sum total of his thoughts was the fire of his fury and the need to guarantee Isabella unequivocally.