The Art of Wealth: I Became a Billionaire
Chapter 47: How Do I Break Innocence?

Chapter 47: How Do I Break Innocence?

It was midnight. The house was quiet. But Philip’s mind was loud.

He lay on the bed with his eyes wide open, staring into the darkness above him, feeling the weight of everything he had buried all day. Beside him, Dahlia slept peacefully, her breathing slow and steady. But Philip couldn’t rest.

His chest felt tight. His thoughts kept spinning. And worst of all... George’s words kept replaying in his head like a haunting song.

"You want me to accept you again, Philip? Bring Raymond down."

Philip turned on the bed, restless. He looked at Dahlia beside him. She looked calm. He didn’t want to disturb her. So he quietly slipped out of bed, pulled on a shirt, and walked out to the veranda.

The night breeze was cold against his skin, but he didn’t mind. He just stood there, arms crossed over his chest, staring up at the sky. The stars were so still, so far away, as if they were watching his struggle but could do nothing to help.

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep sigh. His thoughts were heavy. His heart, even heavier.

He whispered to himself, "How am I supposed to do this?"

Behind him, the bedroom door creaked softly. Footsteps followed. He didn’t need to turn. He already knew who it was... Dahlia.

She stood by the doorframe for a moment, watching him. Then she walked gently to his side.

Her voice was soft and full of concern. "What’s troubling you, my love... that took you out of bed so late at night?"

She paused, her eyes studying his face.

"It’s him again, isn’t it?"

Philip didn’t answer.

But his expression did.

She took his hand and held it tightly. "Philip," she said, "you don’t need to prove yourself to people. I’ve told you this so many times."

He looked away, but she stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the stars, forcing him to look at her.

"I know he’s your father," she continued, her voice shaking a little now, "and I know you want his attention, his respect... his love. But Phil, at what cost?"

He didn’t say anything. She could see the pain in his eyes. The shame and exhaustion.

"You’ve refused to live your own life," she whispered. "All you do is chase his shadow. He doesn’t even look at you, really look at you. And still, you run after him, again and again, hoping this time will be different."

Tears welled in her eyes. "But it never is, Philip. It never is. He doesn’t love you. He’s using you."

"Dahlia..."

"No, let me finish," she said, her voice trembling. "This... this version of you isn’t the man I fell in love with. You’re not this desperate. You’re not this lost. He is turning you into a shadow of yourself. And deep down, I know you feel it too."

Philip closed his eyes tightly.

He did feel it.

Every word she said pierced straight through him.

He opened his eyes slowly, looked at her with a broken gaze, and finally spoke.

"What am I supposed to do, Dee?" he asked. "How am I supposed to handle this?"

His voice cracked, and Dahlia could feel the weight behind every word.

"I’ve tried all that I can," he said. "I’ve done everything I could think of. I’ve worked hard. I’ve stayed loyal. I’ve taken hits that weren’t meant for me. I’ve shut my mouth when I wanted to scream. Just for him to notice me."

His hands were shaking now.

"I’ve sacrificed so much. All because I thought maybe, just maybe, one day, he’d look at me and say, ’That’s my son.’"

Tears slipped down his cheeks. "But it’s like... the more I try, the more I fail in his eyes."

He stepped back, voice rising a little. "And now, he’s given me this insane task. One that I don’t even know where to begin.

Then she spoke. "A task? What kind of task could be so big that you, of all people, don’t know how to handle it?"

Philip looked away again. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to her, but somehow her voice had a way of dragging the truth out of him.

"You are the most brilliant person I’ve ever known," she added. "You see angles people miss. You calculate things before others even notice there’s a problem. So what could be this difficult that it’s keeping you up at night, looking like this?"

Philip took a slow breath. The question echoed in his head. And then he spoke.

"I’m supposed to bring down someone. A very strong opposition."

He paused, his brows furrowed.

"Actually... not just someone. A whole damn structure. Powerful and clean. At least on the outside. So clean it’s blinding with no loose ends. And the worst part is, I used to be close. I used to know how they worked. But not anymore. Now I’m on the outside, and they’ve shut every door on me."

He sighed again, rubbing his forehead like he could physically push the pressure away.

"I just don’t know where or how to start. It’s like trying to break into a fortress... with bare hands."

Dahlia was quiet for a while. Her mind was turning now.

Then she leaned forward slightly and looked him dead in the eyes.

"You know one thing I’ve learned about people?" she asked, her tone changing.

"No one... I mean, no one is completely pure. Not in this world. Especially not powerful people. They might look perfect on the outside. But part of their past, somewhere buried deep, will always say otherwise."

Philip blinked, paying full attention now.

"Everyone has a dark past, Phil," she said. "One they don’t talk about. One they hide, bury and fear. Because if that truth ever comes out, it could destroy them."

Her words sank deep into him.

"So, whoever this person or group is," she continued, "if you can’t get in through the front door, then go back in time. Find out who they used to be. What they’ve done. Not who they pretend to be now, but who they were before they learned to hide it."

Philip’s eyes widened.

It was like a light had just switched on in a room that had been dark for weeks.

He stared at her, his mouth slightly open. Then he smiled, slowly, warmly, a bit amazed.

"Wow." He let out a small, surprised laugh.

"Has anyone ever told you how smart you are?"

Dahlia laughed shyly, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. "Only the man who loves me," she said, smiling up at him.

He leaned closer, looking at her like she was the only person that made sense in the world.

"You’re one of those people they call ’beauty with brains,’ you know?" he said. "Seriously, Dahlia... you’ve done something big for me tonight. You’ve given me a head start. A path I couldn’t see before. You might’ve just saved me."

She smiled again, her eyes soft.

"If you’re grateful for that," she said, placing a hand on his cheek, "then my only wish is that you come to bed with me and rest your mind, just for a little while."

Philip looked at her.

She was everything he needed but didn’t deserve. She was soft where he was hard. Calm where he was storming. And wise in ways he never expected.

He stood up, reached down, and scooped her into his arms.

She let out a soft giggle. "Philip!"

But he didn’t answer. He just smiled, carried her gently into the bedroom.

He laid her down, kissed her forehead, and slipped beside her. Dahlia curled into him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

The room was quiet but Philip’s mind wasn’t racing anymore. It was focused now. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, one arm around Dahlia, the other resting on his chest.

How would he do it? How would he get to Raymond’s past?

What secrets were buried there? What cracks could he find in the walls Raymond had built?

He didn’t know yet.

But he knew he had a head start at least.