What Can You Not Buy With Money?

“Ben!” Adelmo cried out as I took another long draft of scotch, The Macallan Fine and Rare Collection. It is a very refined brand, full of the delicious flavors that alcohol provided me—both for my tongue and for the numbing of my mind. And I craved that numbing, desperately.

I had revived the habit of drinking excessively, even at the point of drowning the throbs of emotion at my office. My company was all I ever had, and it was high time I brought it to the height of divinity. After all, it was all I’d ever truly have. And I wasn’t going to lose the last thing I had that kept me somewhat sane, my wealth. I am a firm believer that money can buy happiness, or so I kept telling myself.

“Please, sir,” Adelmo never dared take the glass from my lips or the bottle from my desk. He was terrified of me, as he should be. I never laid a hand on an assistant before, but him being the first male employee so close to me would automatically give me the right to physically put him in his place. And just looking at him, my already high levels of testosterone were beginning to rage like a wild fire. I wanted to just beat the young man down; destroy him completely. I wanted to hurt everything and everyone around me, and I believe that it was only fair. They've all hurt me.

“Bohr, what have I told you before?” I had begun to call him by his surname, as a means to remind me of the blood relation he shared with my most hated enemy. It helped feed my disgust for the man, as I never felt such hatred for another human before.

And after the photo scandal, I wanted nothing more than to exact revenge. I wanted them all to suffer. Jonathan Bohr had to pay for causing what little bit of happiness I had with that woman die. Though I was glad the truth was relieved of how great a back stabbing harlot she was, I would rather never have known. And I wanted Terra Slater to have a taste of poverty for providing the very pictures that Bohr had taken—those foul pictures that seemed to hold a trace of the flames of hell itself. She knew it would cause my suffering, but she showed them to me anyway. And then there was… her.

Mary Hall, what kind of woman had she been really? What caused me to be blinded by that succubus? I was never so used by another human being before—unless you consider my father as one of those factors. No, she played me for a fool—driven by my power; my wealth.

I would never forgive her for what she had done. I opened myself up for her in ways I never thought possible. Even as I tried to drink my way from remembering how the light would shine in her large eyes or the way the tears had easily fallen from her delicate face, I couldn't escape the memory. It was enough to cause me to grit my teeth in frustration.

I quickly placed my fingers over my lips as I tried not to express how troubled I was. There wasn’t enough scotch in the world to disguise that I was in anguish.

But there was one thing that did. “Bohr,” God, I loved how I had the kin of my enemy serving me. “Report on the recent issue of Bae Systems.”

Adelmo Bohr licked his lips nervously, his hand shaken as he took out his own Smartphone and a folder that held countless documents of the weak corporation. “Since you placed pressure on the superiors of Bae, they’ve already set up a meeting to negotiate handing the company over.”

“Good.” I felt my mouth curl in a sneer, and I let out a slow chuckle escape. One annoyance was down. Soon, even the great Bohr Technologies would fall to me. I wasn’t going to stop until Burgess Incorporated monopolized the technological industry.

Adelmo was patiently standing, his eyes timidly studying me as though he was falling for me. I wouldn’t be surprised. Earlier today, I had taken a good look at myself in the mirror, and though I had lost a great deal of weight—ten pounds, most of it muscle mass—I believed that the more pronounced cheek bones on my face, the dark shadows that caressed the area below my eyes and the hollowness of my skin was a more suited look for me. I looked antagonizing—cruel, even. Of course, this look wouldn’t have come to existence without the assistance of a good friend.

Sniffing my nose slowly, I felt I earned this small sin of a reward. I went through my drawers, noting how disorganized I had become but quickly brushed it aside. I already increased the surplus of my company by the billions in less than three weeks. I needn’t the time to worry about the internal capacity of my desk. I took out a carefully wrapped package of the delicious and pure powder that invited me provocatively to its heavenly escape.

Adelmo Bohr flinched as he watched me quickly snort in a healthy amount, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t this assistant I cared for—but I wondered secretly… what would you think of me now, Mary?

I leaned back as I felt my heart beat quicken like a race horse, the rush of adrenaline and pleasure sinking its drugged fangs into my body. Damn, I loved her. As I began to float into a sense of wide awakeness, I quickly sat up and turned to gaze out at the window. San Diego was my city.

But I wondered what it was that Mary was doing. Was she out screwing Walker’s brains out and laughing at how easily it was to take advantage of me? Or was it she was regretting what she had done? I hoped it was the latter. I wanted her to crawl back to me and beg for my forgiveness. If she did, I might just take her back.

But then my mind wandered at that strange and violent friend of hers, that Lucy Norton. The effects of cocaine was causing my mind to quickly speed by, and I quietly smiled at how that quiet and soft spoken young woman could be friends with such a different character.

My crotch still burned in memory at how that biker had taken the pictures from me. She hit hard below the belt. And those very pictures that Bohr took and Terra gave to me had given me a mental kick to the balls when I first saw them. I wondered how Terra obtain them, but details didn’t really matter at the time.

And Norton had been one strong and violent demon, going at no length to demand the pictures from me. How she managed to get past the guards and subdue me is a mystery. But I was drunk—confused.

And Mary, she never called. Never came to ask for forgiveness. She just disappeared, as Adelmo had told me. When asking a few of my associates to provide an investigation on her, they simply said that she had left the city. She was gone without a trace--just randomly driving away with her friends heading east.

“What do you think she’s doing, Bohr?” I muttered aloud, no longer caring about how much emotion I revealed. My chest was tightening but I ignored it as I pressed my hand against the cold glass of my window, gazing down.

“Running away from you.” Adelmo was soft in his words, but I knew what he was really thinking. He told me on countless occasions that his brother could not be trusted—that it was all a lie. But pictures are hard to fake, especially when the body I had been so familiar with was accurately portrayed on photographs. “You still believe she cheated on you.” Adelmo shook his head, disbelief and frustration apparent.

“I’ll need proof, if I’m going to believe anything different.” I was stubborn, but I knew that I was being reasonable. Anyone would be devastated at what I have suffered. And it wasn’t fair that no one saw my side of it. No one would understand—they never would. I clenched my fist, remembering how I had been so wild and violent in front of her. I had thrown my furniture around, showing her how much anger I had. The very window I was touching had been cracked, like my heart. But another great thing about money is everything can be easily replaced. Windows, furniture, wounded pride, and hearts.

Seeing the one person I’d die for—the one person who I actually loved—in a way that showed that she lied to me just made me feel useless. Worthless. Which was the last thing she had ever made me feel before. She was like an angel when I was with her. She cared for me, held me, and had been so compassionate towards me. And it was only fair that I wanted a person like that to spend my life with. A person that really gave a damn about me—but I should have known that there isn’t such a thing as a selfless person. We all only care about ourselves.

When you tell someone you love them, in the way that we told each other, it’s supposed to mean that they are the most important person in their lives. To me, Mary was the only person I wanted to share my troubles and joys with. But discovering that there were others she relied upon and cared for was enough to destroy me.

What made Charles Walker any more of a man than I was? I was far more attractive, healthier, wealthier, and powerful. How could I have lost her to that bastard?

“I hope Charles Walker dies,” I muttered, my eyes starting to sting but I was man enough not to cry. “I really hope that he just stops breathing. Because then, maybe she’d come back to me.”