**Chapter 3**
**Ferdinand's Point of View**
The crackling fire in the fireplace filled the living room of my house, but it couldn't warm the emptiness that had settled inside me for years. I sank into the leather armchair, a glass of whiskey in hand, letting my eyes roam over the newspaper spread across the coffee table. My name gleamed at the top in golden letters: the richest man. And just below it, like another grim trophy, the most handsome man. A cruel smile stretched across my lips. Pathetic, I thought, watching all these women who adored me like flies around light. They understood nothing. They didn't know what I had lived through, what I had lost.
The number of hearts I had broken seemed infinite. But it wasn't over. My goal was clear: to make every woman who deserved it feel the pain and betrayal I had endured in my past. I closed my eyes for a moment and let my mind drift.
Memories hit me with the violence of a hurricane. The image of my child returned, so vivid, so painful. My son… my little boy, innocent and perfect. And then, the black flash.
I saw myself, young and naive, falling in love with Elise. She was everything I thought I wanted. Her gentleness, her laughter, her gaze that seemed to read me like no one ever had. I loved her with a pure, total love. I asked her to marry me. When she became pregnant, I wanted her to give birth before we celebrated the wedding. Everything had to be perfect. Everything had to be happy. The day my son was born, I felt like the happiest man in the world. Wedding preparations had begun, the house filled with laughter and plans. Every moment breathed happiness.
But that happiness was an illusion.
One evening, arms full of gifts for Elise and our son, I went to my child's room. And there, everything collapsed. The scene that confronted me haunted me forever. Elise, my fiancée, was leaning over the crib, her face twisted with hatred. She was drowning our child, my weeks-old son, in the bath. I screamed her name, paralyzed by disbelief and horror. She looked at me, full of hate, and spat in my face that she had never loved me, that she loved another, that she had stayed with me for my money, and that she didn't want this child.
I rushed forward, snatching my son from the water, but it was already too late. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. The innocent soul of this baby had been on this earth only a few weeks, yet it had held all my love. I held him in my arms, crying like a child, unable to believe I had failed. My world collapsed around me.
Rage consumed me, a hatred I had never known. I lunged at Elise, striking with a violence I didn't recognize in myself. The home cameras recorded everything: every scream, every exchange, every movement. I was about to push her down the stairs when the police intervened. The trial was swift. Elise received the maximum sentence, but it didn't matter. My son would never return. Justice had no power to undo the irreparable.
I spent hours staring at the empty crib, unable to rise. Every breath reminded me of the loss, every silence struck me like a hammer on my soul. From that day on, I had silently vowed never, ever, to let a woman break my heart again.
Back in the present, I raised my glass of whiskey to my lips. The burning liquid made me shiver but did nothing to soothe this pain that would never fade. My eyes fell again on the newspaper. Wealth, beauty, power… it all seemed meaningless compared to this void. A tear slid down my cheek, fleeting, masked by my cruel smile. I let it fall, aware it symbolized the intense suffering I had accumulated over the years.
Never again would I open my heart to a woman. Never again would I allow anyone to manipulate or destroy me. The world must learn to fear me, and I must become a weapon, a predator, a heartless playboy. I promised myself again, silently, staring at my reflection in the glass.
— Never again… I whispered, but with unwavering conviction.
I rose, pacing a few steps across my vast living room. Memories of Elise, my son, of what we had lost, haunted every corner. Even my empire, my fortune, my power, all seemed empty compared to what I had lost. But I had to move forward. I had to turn this pain into strength, this rage into weapons.
I thought of all the women who had approached me since. They were beautiful, alluring, but none could fill this void. And I would never allow it. They would fall at my feet, yes… but only to feel the pain I had once endured. Every breakup, every betrayal I inflicted was a warning to those who thought they could touch my heart.
— Pathetic… I whispered, seeing a notification on my phone. Another message from a woman… asking to see me again. They were all the same, all naive, all convinced I could change. But I would never change.
I set my glass down, the weight of the world on my shoulders. My gaze drifted toward the city, lit by night. Skyscrapers glittered like jewels in the darkness, but nothing could compete with the black that ruled in my heart. A part of me, buried, still suffered, but I would always push it away.
Then, I allowed myself one last glance at the photo album on the coffee table. Images of my son, his innocent smile, bright eyes, tiny hands… my breath caught. The pain resurfaced, brutal, relentless. I closed my eyes, trying to channel this rage, to turn it into strength. My objective was clear: no one, ever, would come near me to break me.
The heartless playboy was born from these flames. And he would remain so, eternal, invincible, cruel, and seductive—a legend of pain and power.
I took one last sip of whiskey, my gaze hard and icy on the city unaware of the dramas unfolding within it. Promises of vengeance, bursts of hatred, memories of lost love… all of it was now part of me. My heart was no longer a refuge but a fortress. My world was no longer meant for happiness, but for control.
And in that dark night, I swore once more that never, ever, would I open my heart to another woman. My son, my lost love, my empi
re… all of it would remain my only truth.