The Rise of Lucas

Chapter 80

In a dimly lit corner of the conference hall, Trump seethed with wrath, his face distorted into a frown that reflected the tempest gathering inside him. The unsaid encounter with Lucas had left a permanent imprint on his pride, and the hidden wrath simmered under the surface.

As he watched Lucas and Isabella flee, Trump clinched his hands, the unsaid stress emanating from him like a physical force. The unsaid sense of being challenged, especially by someone he considered as beneath him, stoked the fires of his rage.

The murmur of discussions and the ambient sounds of the conference swarmed around Trump, but he remained alone in his silent wrath. The underlying hatred against Lucas, who had dared to question his conduct, burned like a slow-burning fire in the pit of his stomach.

Trump's eyes, fixed on the point where the encounter had happened, carried an unsaid ferocity. The implicit urge to establish authority and control, inherent to his nature, contrasted with the reality of having