The sun was setting behind the estate, casting long shadows across the lawn as the children of the wealthy gathered for yet another extravagant event. The vast, ornate mansion was buzzing with laughter, conversations of stock markets, luxury vacations, and future inheritances. To the outside world, these children were heirs to powerful business empires, each destined for lives of unimaginable privilege. But beneath the surface, there was a darker truth—these families didn't just rule boardrooms. They controlled something much more dangerous: an underground world where wealth and influence meant absolute power.

William Rothschild Cain stood at the edges of this world, never quite belonging. Though he was surrounded by wealth, he had none of his own. Adopted by the Cain family after the death of his biological parents, William wasn't like the others. He wore second-hand suits that never quite fit, his shoes were scuffed, and his posture carried the weight of someone who was constantly reminded that he didn't belong.

As always, the other children made it a point to remind him.

"Look, it's the charity case," sneered Ethan Cain, his stepbrother, lounging with a glass of champagne in hand. Ethan, with his perfectly tailored suit and polished shoes, was everything William wasn't—confident, entitled, and born into privilege. He'd spent years tormenting William, using every opportunity to put him down in front of their peers.

"Nice suit, Will," Morgan Cain, William's stepsister, added with a wicked grin. "Did you borrow it from the butler? Oh wait, that's too fancy for you." She was surrounded by a group of girls, all of them dressed in designer clothes, laughing along with her. To them, William was nothing more than an object of ridicule—a reminder of what they considered the lowest tier of society, despite his connection to their world.

Victor Wu, one of the most powerful heirs in the circle, leaned in with a smirk. "You really think you're one of us, Rothschild? You're nothing. You'll never be anything in this world. You're just a poor boy who got lucky being taken in by the Cains."

William stood still, clenching his fists, his heart pounding in his chest. Every word hit him like a hammer, each insult reinforcing the truth that had been ingrained in him since he was a child. He had no real family, no wealth, no future. His father, whoever he had been, had left him with nothing, and the Cains had never let him forget it.

"Leave him alone, Victor," Sophia D'Amato, one of the few who rarely participated in the bullying, said half-heartedly. She looked at William with a mixture of pity and indifference. Though her words were meant to sound like kindness, they only deepened William's sense of isolation.

Victor shrugged, laughing. "Why? He needs to get used to it. This world isn't for people like him."

"Yeah," Ethan added. "He should know his place by now. You'll be lucky to be working for one of us in a few years, Will. Maybe I'll let you shine my shoes."

The laughter echoed around the room as William's face burned with humiliation. He wanted to fight back, to defend himself, but the reality was too painful. He had nothing. They were right. In their world, wealth and power were everything, and he had neither.

For years, William had endured this treatment. Whether it was at lavish parties, exclusive schools, or even at home, he was always the outsider. The Cain family took him in, but only out of obligation—he was never truly one of them. The other children, born into lives of luxury, took every opportunity to remind him of his place. They flaunted their wealth, their connections, and their futures, knowing that William had none of those things.

And Kate, his girlfriend, was no different. She may have pretended to care, but William knew deep down she saw him the same way the others did—a poor, pitiful boy who wasn't worthy of her world.

But that night, as William stood on the fringes of the crowd, feeling more alone than ever, something began to stir inside him. It wasn't anger—it was something deeper, something that had been suppressed for far too long. There was a gnawing sense of purpose that he couldn't quite define, a voice telling him that this wasn't the end of his story.

As the evening wore on and the laughter of his tormentors filled the air, William silently vowed that one day, things would change. One day, they would see who he truly was.