New beginning: Billionaire love story

Christian's eyes went wide as he stared at Alexander. "You did what?"noveldrama

Alexander winced at Christian's loud voice, already feeling a headache creeping in. He'd come to Christian's office hoping for some advice on how to deal with the mess he'd created, but now he was regretting it. Placing his fingers on his temple, he leaned back on the couch, trying to block out the noise. "I don't know, okay? I don't know what to do," Alexander muttered, rubbing his temple harder, as if that could erase the memory of last night's disaster.

Christian plopped down on the couch across from him, still looking dumbfounded. "Dude... you punched Adrian in the face. You punched the guy Claire's seeing. What were you thinking?"

Alexander sighed heavily, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "I know, I know, I screwed up. Big time. But I was too drunk to even realize what I was doing."

Christian frowned, his arms crossed as he tried to process what Alexander was saying. "Too drunk? Like, blackout-drunk? You didn't realize you were throwing a punch at Adrian?"

Alexander hesitated for a moment, then let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Okay, maybe I wasn't that drunk. But the booze didn't help. I think..." He paused, searching for the right words. "I think I was blinded by jealousy too. Claire was right there, with him, and it just... I don't know, man, I lost it."

Christian shook his head in disbelief. "Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? You're a mess."

Alexander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. "I know, I know. It's just, when it comes to Claire, I can't think straight. It's like my brain shuts off. I see her with someone else, and I just... snap."

"Man, I just left you for a minute and this happened? And why are you just telling me just now?" Christian eyes wide in disbelief.

"I didn't cross my mind, I guess."

Christian studied him for a second, then leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Look, man. I'm gonna be real with you. From where I'm standing, it looks like you've got zero chance with Claire. And I don't just mean because of this punch thing." Alexander lifted his head, glaring at Christian. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Christian sighed, trying to soften the blow. "I mean, she's with Adrian now. She's moved on. Even before all of this, it didn't seem like she was looking back. You've got to face it-Claire's not coming back to you, man."

Alexander didn't like hearing that, not one bit. But deep down, he knew Christian wasn't wrong. He leaned back on the couch again, staring up at the ceiling, trying to come to terms with the reality of the situation. Christian shook his head again, still trying to wrap his mind around how Alexander had managed to make such a colossal mistake. "So what's your plan now? You can't just sit around and mope. You've got to do something." Alexander shrugged, clearly at a loss. "Honestly? I have no idea. Every time I try to think about it, I just... I don't know, my mind goes blank. It's Claire. She's always had that effect on me."

Christian raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Well, that's not going to help you now. You can't just shut down whenever things get tough. You've got to figure out your next move."

Alexander groaned, rubbing his face. "Yeah, easier said than done. So, what do you think I should do? Apologize? Try to fix things?"

Christian shook his head. "You definitely need to apologize. But whether or not that'll fix anything? Who knows, man. Claire's with Adrian now. This whole thing... it's complicated. But punching Adrian? That's not something she's gonna forget easily." Alexander groaned again. "I know, I know. I just don't want her to think I'm some violent idiot who can't control his temper."

Christian smirked. "Too late for that."

Alexander shot him a glare, but Christian just shrugged. "Hey, I'm just being honest. You messed up, and now you've got to deal with the fallout. But honestly, man? Maybe it's time to let her go. I mean, Claire's moved on. You need to, too." Alexander didn't respond, his mind swirling with guilt, regret, and frustration. He knew Christian was right. But letting go of Claire? That was easier said than done.

Meanwhile, Frank stormed down the

hallway toward the makeshift lab where his hastily assembled team was working on a robot project. The goal? Beat Metacortex at their own game. Frank had come up with the idea on a whim, but now it seemed like everything was falling apart.

As he burst into the room, he found his team huddled together, looking tense and uneasy. Something was definitely off.

"How's it going in here?" Frank asked, trying to keep his voice calm, though the irritation was clear in his tone.

The team members exchanged nervous glances. One of them, a guy with thick glasses and a clipboard, cleared his throat and stepped forward cautiously. "Uh, well, there's been... a few problems." Frank narrowed his eyes. "Problems? What kind of problems?"

The guy with the glasses adjusted them nervously. "Well, there's an issue with the software. It's not integrating with the hardware like we thought it would. And, um, we haven't exactly nailed down the design for the robot yet..." Frank's eye twitched. "Wait, you're telling me you don't even know what the robot's going to look like yet? We're how far into this project?"

The team all looked down at their feet, avoiding eye contact with Frank.

Glasses-guy stammered, "W-We're working on it, but there have been some unforeseen technical challenges. We're doing our best-"

"Your best?" Frank's voice rose, and his temper flared. "You're telling me that after all this time, you still don't even have a vision for the robot? What have you been doing this whole time, twiddling your thumbs?"

The room went silent, everyone too

scared to say anything. Frank could feel his blood pressure rising. He'd put together this team in a hurry, but he'd expected them to pull it together by now. How was he supposed to take down Metacortex if his team couldn't even build a

basic prototype?

"I want progress," Frank growled, pacing back and forth in front of the team. "I don't care about your excuses. I want to see results, and I want them yesterday. Got it?"

The team members all nodded nervously, not daring to speak.

Frank stopped pacing and fixed them with a steely glare. "You've got 48 hours to show me something, anything, or this whole project gets scrapped. Do I make myself clear?" "Y-Yes, sir," the guy with the glasses stammered.

Without another word, Frank turned

on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving the team to scramble in his wake. If they didn't pull it together

soon, Frank wasn't surene

how much longer his patience would last. He needed that robot to be

ready, and fast. If it wasn't

Metacortex would crush them, and

Frank wasn't about to let that

happen.

As Frank walked down the hallway, still fuming, he muttered to himself, "Am I the only one around here who knows how to get things done?"