CHAPTER FIVE

Adrian

The rhythmic tap of polished shoes against the gleaming marble floor echoed through the corridors of Veymar Entertainment Group. It wasn't his first time walking these halls—far from it. For five years, Adrian had moved between these walls, training under his father and Uncle James, absorbing everything about the industry. But today was different. Today, he wasn't just the heir making his rounds. Today, he was Elio, the newly appointed head of the Acting Division.

"Good morning, Mr. Vey—"

Adrian halted mid-step, shifting his gaze to the middle-aged man in front of him—Mr. Lian, a finance officer who had worked under his father for over a decade.

"Don't," Adrian cut in smoothly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Mr. Lian, after all these years, you should know better. It's Elio."

Mr. Lian chuckled, inclining his head in apology. "Force of habit. Congratulations, Elio."

"Thank you." Adrian resumed his stride.

Further down the hallway, a younger employee stiffened as Adrian approached.

"G-Good morning, Mr. Vey—uh—"

Adrian arched a brow, his tone light but firm. "Ethan, right? No need to look like you just stepped on a landmine. Just call me Elio."

Ethan exhaled in relief, nodding quickly. "Got it, Elio."

The interactions were brief, but they grounded him. He wasn't just stepping into power blindly—he had been part of this world for years. The name Veymar carried weight, but he wasn't here to be a shadow of his father.

Pushing open the doors to his office, he paused, taking it in. Sunlight, thick with gold, spilled across the sleek, minimalist furniture, catching the sharp angles of his desk. Adrian paused, his hand tightening on the leather armrest. The air, usually charged with anticipation, felt heavy, pressing down on his shoulders. This wasn't just a workspace. It was responsibility.

The scent of freshly polished wood mingled with something unspoken, something new. He ran a hand over the leather armrest of his chair before settling in, fingers drumming lightly on the desk. The silence pressed in for a beat too long. A shift. A beginning.

A slow, almost imperceptible smile curved on Adrian's lips. The silence of the office, usually a source of restless energy, now felt like a perfect, weighty pause.

This wasn't just about status or privilege—though he embraced both fully. This was about impact. About balance. He wasn't one of those naive idealists who believed kindness alone could change the world. How do you help the less privileged if you have nothing to give? Money and influence mattered. And now, in this position, he had both. He could do more.

A knock interrupted his thoughts.

. "Elio," Rachel began, a slight hesitation in her voice, "your father...he wants to see you. In, uh, about ten minutes."

Adrian smirked. "Noted. But Rachel, drop the 'sir.' It's just Elio."

Before she could leave, she placed a delicate bouquet of white and blue flowers on his desk. "These arrived for you."

He arched a brow. "From?"

Rachel hesitated, then handed him a small note.

"Mr. Elio, your superstar best friend wishes you a grand start. You should've booked an appointment—I would've come to deliver this personally. But since you're a big-shot CEO now, I'll excuse you. Don't let the power get to your head. Cheers,"— RICK

A grin tugged at Adrian's lips. Typical Rick—never missing a moment to tease him. He traced the edge of the note with his thumb, a flicker of warmth settling in his chest. Even with their busy lives, Rick always found a way to remind him that some things—some friendships—never changed.

Before he could dwell on it, another knock came—firmer this time. It was his parents.

His mother beamed, carrying a bouquet of vibrant blue hydrangeas and pristine white lilies. The hydrangeas, with their clusters of delicate petals, reminded him of the sprawling city lights at night, while the lilies, with their clean, sharp scent, spoke of new beginnings, while his father stood beside her, arms crossed but the faintest smile playing at his lips.

"Flowers?" Adrian teased, lifting a brow. "Did you lose a bet?"

His father scoffed but didn't refute it. The bouquet felt out of place in his hands—too soft, too sentimental. If nothing else, it proved today was an exception.

"Right now, I'm here as your father, congratulating my son," he said, tone measured. "In ten minutes, when you step into my office, I'm your boss. So, enjoy this moment while it lasts."

Adrian smirked, but the distinction wasn't lost on him. His father was setting the boundary now—family ended at this doorway. Beyond it, there was no room for hesitation.

His mother chuckled, nudging Adrian lightly. "You know he never does this. Just accept it before he changes his mind."

Adrian smirked, reaching for the flowers. His fingers briefly traced the petals, but his thoughts flickered elsewhere—to the weekend, to the charity center, to Maxen.

A quiet hum settled in his chest, but beneath it, a restlessness stirred. Had Maxen seen the news? Would he think of him the same way after knowing who he really was?

Then, a sudden thought struck him. His number. Damn."" The thought flashed, unbidden, like a stray spark, and Adrian's fingers drummed a sudden, uneven rhythm on the desk

"I should've gotten his number."

The thought crept in unbidden, and for a moment, he drummed his fingers against the desk. He never hesitated in business, never second-guessed. But this? This was different.

Another knock.

Rachel again, holding out her phone. "Sir—I mean, Elio—news of your appointment is trending. Social media is buzzing."

Adrian took the phone, eyes scanning the article.

As he read, he unconsciously rubbed the pad of his thumb against his forefinger, a subtle, nervous rhythm that had become a recent, unwelcome companion since meeting Maxen.

His name, his new position, the expectations. His lips curled slightly.

He had officially stepped into his role.

And somewhere out there, Maxen was probably seeing it too.

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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