On the 40th floor of that luxurious penthouse in London, Prince Kingsley (age 28)stood staring at the city lights,
feeling like the poorest rich man in the world.
The white ceramic cup in his hand had long gone cold, but his focus was not on the bitter black coffee anymore. His eyes were fixed on the glittering city lights spread before him - lights that seemed to mock him.
The same city that called him the "King of Success" felt like a cage tonight.
He let out a deep, heavy sigh, as if a mountain rested on his chest.
Turning around, he looked at the seven-thousand-square-foot silence people called "home."
There were walls... but no shoulders to lean on.
The empty chairs around the massive dining table seemed to scream that no one came there to ask how Prince was doing - they only came carrying their lists of demands.
He remembered that he had received fifty calls that day. Not one of them had asked:
"Prince, did you eat today?"
Everyone cared about CEO Prince Kingsley - not the man suffocating beneath all the luxury.
He felt like he had turned into a machine. Pour money in, take work out.
His soul was exhausted. And the darkness that couldn't be seen anywhere in the city had spread deep within his own existence.
Prince placed his cold fingers against the glass window, as if trying to feel the freezing air outside. But the cold inside him was far deeper than the winter beyond.
He exhaled slowly.
Prince (staring at the city with empty eyes):
"How ironic... For the whole world, I am the CEO of this empire. Thousands of people in board meetings wait for my single signal. One decision of mine moves millions in turnover and feeds thousands of families..."
His voice carried a strange hollowness.
He clenched his fist.
"But the bitter truth is... in the very house I built with my blood and sweat, I have no value. For the people here, I'm not a brother... not even a person. I'm just a walking payment gateway. A machine - press the button, and money comes out. Not emotions."
As the loneliness of the night deepened, the bitter memories of the morning returned.
He closed his eyes and remembered.
The house had a holiday vibe that morning.
In the living room, his elder brother Nathan Kingsley and his sister-in-law Mary were sitting on the sofa, browsing international trip hotels on their laptop.
Nathan (smiling):
"This time, let's skip the Maldives. Let's go to Switzerland. The kids will love the snow."
Mary added casually:
"And don't forget my shopping budget. Last time, Prince transferred a little less."
Just then, Prince walked in, ready for office.
He had hoped someone might ask how late he had worked the previous night.
But the conversation was something else entirely.
Nathan (looking at Prince):
"Ah, good you're here! Here's this year's vacation plan. Flights, five-star hotel, kids' activities - total estimate is around fifteen lakhs. I've already used your credit card details. Just tell me the OTP."
Prince's face turned cold.
In his brother's eyes, he didn't see love - he saw calculation.
At that moment, Nathan's three sons ran toward Prince and hugged him.
"Uncle, I want a new gaming console there!"
Prince looked at their innocent faces.
He didn't know whether they loved him - or the money he spent on them.
Without saying a word, he took out his phone and gave the OTP.
Prince (quietly):
"Done?"
Nathan:
"Yes! Thanks, little brother. As long as you're here, what do we have to worry about? Go on, you'll be late for office."
Just as Prince was about to leave, the main entrance door opened.
His younger brother, Ethan Kingsley, walked in twirling his car keys, wearing that familiar
self-serving smile.
Ethan:
"Wait, wait! Elder brother always runs on his own schedule. At least hear me out first - I have something very important."
Prince stopped in his tracks.
Without turning, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
His face was expressionless like stone. But inside, a volcano was ready to erupt.
Ethan (placing a hand on his shoulder):
"Brother, it's my best friend's birthday tonight. And you know - I'm a Kingsley. The impression has to match the name. I need brand-new designer clothes, the latest shoes, and a classy gift. And yes... most importantly, I need the keys to your limited-edition car."
He smirked.
"The old one feels a bit outdated now. Actually... why don't you just get me a new sports car?"
Prince slowly turned his head and looked into Ethan's eyes.
His grey eyes were so cold that Ethan faltered for a second.
Only one thought echoed in Prince's mind:
"Is there anyone in this house who talks to me without checking their pocket first?"
His jaw tightened.
Without saying a word, he extended the car keys toward Ethan.
Prince (in an icy voice):
"Here are the keys. And as for the new car... call the manager. He'll make the payment."
Ethan snatched the keys happily, too excited to notice the pain in Prince's eyes.
Prince walked out without looking back.
There was dignity in his walk - but only emptiness in his heart.
As he stepped outside, he took a long breath. Yet even the air felt suffocating.
He sat in the back seat of his chauffeur-driven car.
His entire body language screamed exhaustion.