Lucas's thoughts turned to Roman, and he couldn't help but wonder why his mother had chosen to keep him alive. Why hadn't she just finished him off when she had the chance? Lucas's mind seethed with resentment as he thought about his cousin.
He'd always been jealous of Roman, even as kids. Roman had always been one step ahead, scoring better grades, getting more attention from their teachers. Lucas remembered the countless times Roman had effortlessly aced a test, while he struggled to keep up. The teachers would praise Roman, sing his praises, and Lucas would feel like he was invisible.
And it didn't change as they grew older. Roman's business ventures always seemed to succeed, while Lucas's own attempts faltered. Roman would swoop in, charm investors, and seal the deal, while Lucas's own pitches fell flat. People would rave about Roman's business acumen, his charisma, and his leadership skills.
Lucas's anger simmered just below the surface as he thought about Roman's effortless charm. He was always so handsome, so charismatic. Women couldn't resist him, and even Lucas's own girlfriend in college had fallen for Roman's charms. Lucas had caught them laughing together, exchanging flirtatious banter, and he'd felt a searing rage.
The memory still rankled Lucas. Why did everyone always fawn over Roman? Why couldn't they see that he was the better one? The smarter one? The more deserving one? Lucas felt like he lived in Roman's shadow, always trying to step out of the darkness and into the light.
As Lucas's jealousy boiled over, he thought about all the ways Roman had surpassed him. Roman's business deals were always more lucrative, his social status more esteemed. Even their relatives seemed to favor Roman, always praising him and belittling Lucas's achievements.
Lucas's anger burned hotter, and he slammed his fist on the table. Why did Roman get to be the favorite? Why did he get to live, while Lucas was stuck in this mediocre existence? Lucas felt like he was living a life predetermined by Roman's successes, always playing catch-up, always failing.
As Lucas's anger continued to build, he knew he'd do whatever it took to take Roman down. He'd make sure his cousin paid for all the ways he'd overshadowed him. Lucas's eyes narrowed, and a cold calculation crept into his gaze. He'd bide his time, gather his resources, and strike when Roman least expected it.
The thought brought a twisted smile to Lucas's face. Roman might have had the upper hand for now, but Lucas would be the one to bring him down. And when he did, he'd make sure Roman knew it was Lucas who'd pulled the strings.
Lucas poured himself another drink, the amber liquid glowing in the dim light of the room. As he raised the glass to his lips, a sly smile spread across his face. Roman was trapped in a coma, never to wake up. And he, Lucas Sterling, was very much alive.
The thought was intoxicating. Lucas laughed to himself, feeling a sense of triumph wash over him. He was in charge now, the one calling the shots. The company was his to command, and Roman's absence would soon be forgotten.
Lucas took a long swig of his drink, feeling the liquor burn down his throat. He savored the taste, the sensation of power coursing through his veins. He was Lucas Sterling, after all. The one who would take the company to new heights.
As the night wore on, Lucas's gloating turned to rambling. He talked to himself, boasting about his own abilities, his own genius. The words slurred together, but the sentiment remained clear. Lucas was the one in control now, and Roman was nothing more than a relic of the past.
The bottle emptied, and Lucas stumbled, his vision blurring. He laughed again, the sound echoing through the room. He was the master of his domain, and no one could take that away from him. Not even Roman.
As the darkness closed in, Lucas collapsed onto the couch, the glass slipping from his fingers. He was out cold, the alcohol claiming him as its own. But even in his stupor, the smile remained, a testament to his twisted sense of triumph.