An affair with a married woman

Alexander

Power.

What does it really mean?

Does it mean having people under you, bending to your every whim? Does it mean standing on top, looking down at the world as if it’s your personal chessboard, where every piece moves at your command? Or is it something else entirely?

Maybe if you’ve had power and wealth all your life, you’d see it as something trivial. It would be a birthright, an expectation, nothing more. But for me, power wasn’t just a concept or a status. It was control.

Control over chaos. Control over people. Control over myself.

Without power, you’re at the mercy of others. You’re a puppet, your strings pulled by hands you can’t even see. But with power, you hold the strings. You dictate how the world spins around you.

With power nobody would dare mess with you.

I was Alexander King, a man at the top of the world.

Arrogant? Maybe. But that didn’t make it any less true.

The door opened, and I stepped out of the car, the crisp morning air brushing against my f