Zero to Billionaire

Chapter 6

As John walked aimlessly across the city, the streets became a painting of blinking traffic lights and neon signs. Every stride was weighed down with treachery, his thoughts a war zone of opposing feelings. With a sour flavour of disappointment, anger simmered like a kettle on the verge of boiling over. It seemed unbelievable to him that Mark, the person he had looked up to like a brother, had taken his presentation and his opportunity for forgiveness. 

What had seemed like a desperate effort at emotional support, Sarah's previous communication had become a nasty joke. He cried out for comfort, for a familiar voice to calm the storm building within of him. Driven by a fervent hope, his feet guided him to Sarah's apartment complex. 

A discordant song floated down the corridor as he climbed the creaking steps. It was not music, he realised, but a jumble of discordant noises, like a muffled groan, a stifled chuckle, or the creak of overworked furniture. A feeling of icy fear descended over him, a warning that something terrible was about to happen.

As he arrived at the door, he saw that the wood was thin and marked by paint that was flaking off, a visible representation of the neglect that was rotting inside of him. He knocked, the one rap seeming abnormally loud in the strained quiet, ignoring the voice yelling at him to turn back.

The noises within suddenly stopped, giving way to a tense silence that lasted for what seemed like an age. At last, a little portion of the flat was visible when the door creaked open. Sarah's face showed through, her eyes wide with a look that mixed terror and astonishment. 

She stumbled, her words scarcely audible, "John?" Her meticulously done eyeliner was smudged, a clear indication that her passion was not the same as what she'd told him earlier in the day. 

John was about to say anything when someone sprang out of the apartment's shadows and sent a vase smashing to the ground. It was Mark, looking as put together as the flat itself, his cheeks flushed and hair unkempt. The once-tidy living room was filled with empty beer bottles and pizza boxes, the furniture hurriedly thrown aside as if in a scuffle.

A deep, primordial rage washed over John, obscuring his vision with crimson. His stomach ached from betrayal, which was made worse by seeing his lover and closest friend entwined in a hideous mockery of tenderness.

"What the hell is going on here?" John bellowed, his tone heavy with an almost uncontrollable fury.

Scrambling to her feet, Sarah pushed Mark aside. The previous horror gave way to a defiant smile. "This is what happens when you're too busy chasing promotions and presentations to pay attention to your girl, John!" she yelled. John had chills down his spine at the poisonous scorn that oozed from her speech.

"You were supposed to be at work!" Mark stumbled, his arrogance briefly replaced by a flash of panic.

With a sneer, Sarah threw her whole weight against John. "Oh, kindly. John, spare me the act. I am aware of your brief "opportunity" at work. Furthermore, I am aware that recently you haven't exactly been Mr. Faithful either."

Like he was smacked, John jerked back. Though aloof and distracted, he had never been disloyal. It seemed like a cheap shot, a last-ditch effort to shift the responsibility.

Sarah went on, adding with a malicious enjoyment in her voice, "Don't play innocent with me." Do you really believe that I missed the way you were staring at the new receptionist? or the manner you stayed a bit too late at last week's after-work drink event?"

The realisation of the unpleasant reality struck him like a shiver of frost. Although he had been reclusive and turned to his profession and brief smiles for comfort, he had never once considered adultery. John's rage turned to a thick wave of disappointment and a deep-seated melancholy.

"Look, John," I said, trying to get some control back. "This isn't about you. Things simply transpired between Sarah and myself." His tone waned, leaving a pitiful justification in the air.

The way Sarah said, "It doesn't matter how it happened," her voice becoming harsh. "That took place. To be honest, John, it's nice to be with someone who really values and accepts me for who I am."

John's eyes raced between them, his closest friend and girlfriend holding hands, ripping away what little hope remained in him. They both revelled in their treachery as if it were some kind of sick triumph, a knotted jumble of lies and deception.

His voice cracked with shock, "Do you even regret it?" "Do you feel any remorse for what you've done?"

A malevolent glee glinted in Sarah's eyes. "Regret? Why ought I to? John, you were the one ignoring me! You were so focused on pursuing your "career dreams" that you failed to see the lady who was standing in front of you. John, Mark really did notice me. He was really concerned." 

Her remarks were a savage use of phrase that weaponized his genuine difficulties into an excuse for their disloyalty. John felt a wave of tiredness sweep over him, robbing him of his power, even as his eyesight became blurry and his rage threatened to explode once again. 

At last, he blurted out, "You're pathetic," his voice no longer filled with the rage it had before. "You two. Since that's all you have for now, I hope you two are content together. Lies and betrayed confidence."

With the weight of the world bearing down on him, he turned away. Their warped perception of reality and their excuses were unnecessary for him. Words could not express the volume of their acts. 

His senses went numb as he got to the threshold and heard Sarah's voice, dripping with one more barb. 

"Don't worry, John," she said, "I'll make sure that your little "opportunity" at work gets shared with everyone." Perhaps in the end Mark will get the promotion." 

The realisation hit like a thunderclap. Sarah wasn't only upset or enraged; she was also spiteful and ready to set everything on fire to get even with him. John felt a cold hatred return, but this time it was a steely resolution rather than a fiery fury. 

He stopped and turned to face them. "Go ahead," he responded in an unexpectedly calm voice. "Inform everyone. Eventually, the truth will be revealed. And when it happens, you will be the ones left on your own, keeping warm only with your falsehoods." 

He didn't stay amid the ruins of his relationship, didn't wait for an answer. With his head held high and a fresh resolve blazing in his eyes, he turned to go. They couldn't have his honesty or his tenacity, but they could have his flat, his girlfriend, and maybe even his stolen presentation. 

It was a blur walking home. The city lights, which had before brought her comfort, now seemed icy and uncaring. Even if there was still a great deal of treachery, there was also renewed commitment. He refused to concede defeat. He refused to be defined by what they did. 

When he arrived at his flat, the comfortable surroundings stood in sharp contrast to the emotional whirlwind he had just come from. Finally, exhaustion took hold of him and dragged him into a restless slumber.