RAGE WITH BENEFICTS

The air in the Morrison Group's grand meeting hall smelled of expensive cologne, polished mahogany, and suffocating anxiety. Fifty-two high-level executives sat on the edge of their leather seats, their murmurs bouncing off the high ceilings. It was the day of the City Center Redevelopment announcements. The day fortunes were made.

Everyone was sweating with anticipation. Everyone except Cassian Morrison.

Cassian kept his hands flat on the conference table, staring at his reflection in the polished wood. He adjusted his cuffs, his chest tightening as the heavy double doors at the front of the hall swung open.

The room instantly went dead silent.

In walked the holy trinity of the Morrison empire. Patrick Morrison, the chairman, led the pack with the practiced, benevolent smile of a man the media worshiped as a saint. Flanking him was his wife, Rebecca-the diamond-clad matriarch-and walking a step behind them was Miles. The golden son. The legitimate heir.

"Look at them," Maurine, Cassian's work partner, whispered beside him, her elbow nudging his. "They look like they just bought the world."

"They did," Cassian murmured, his voice tight.

As Patrick took the stage, nodding enthusiastically to his bowing sub-department heads, Cassian felt a familiar, bitter burn coat the back of his throat. To the public, Patrick was a visionary. To Cassian, he was a devil who forced others to carry the weight of his sins.

Looking at the perfect crease in Patrick's bespoke suit, Cassian's mind flashed to his mother, Neema. He could still hear her weeping in their cramped kitchen when he was a boy, her hands trembling as she smoothed down his cheap school uniform. "You have to make them respect us, Cassy," she had begged, her voice a desperate anchor dragging him down. "Dress how your father likes. Study what he likes. Gain a space in that company, or we will always be their trash."

A male heir was everything to the Morrisons. It was a fucked-up tradition that had left Patrick's own sisters penniless. And when Rebecca had struggled with fertility years ago, giving birth to a daughter first, Patrick had panicked. He sought out his then-assistant-Neema.

But the universe played a cruel joke. Rebecca fell pregnant with Miles at the exact same time Neema carried Cassian. One son for the registry; one son to be erased so the board of directors wouldn't catch wind of a "lowlife affair."

Cassian was forced into existence, but denied a name.

"Welcome, everyone," Rebecca's voice suddenly rang through the microphone, sharp and dripping with practiced pride. The feedback echoed off the walls, snapping Cassian out of the dark past. "Today, we celebrate a historic milestone. The City Center Redevelopment project is officially ours."

Deafening applause shook the room. For five years, the entire management tier had insisted the project was dead on arrival. The central residents refused to move; their lives were tied to the heart of the city. Everyone had given up.

But Cassian had lived in those streets. He had gone out into the mud, knocked on doors, listened to the locals' demands, and rewritten the plan until it actually protected them. He had bled for this contract.

"I wonder what the chairman is going to give you," Maurine whispered, her eyes sparkling. "A vice presidency? A luxury penthouse? You practically built this win with your bare hands. If you get a Hawaii vacation, you're taking me."

Cassian forced a small, boyish smirk, trying to calm the sudden racing of his pulse. "If I get it, dear, you're first on the flight."

"As if Matt would allow that," she snorted, giggling.

"To honor the brilliant minds who secured this multi-million dollar future," Rebecca continued, her dazzling smile cutting through the room like a blade, "the company is awarding complimentary luxury apartments on the new site to the three primary drivers of this project."

Cassian's breath hitched. He sat up a little straighter. This was it. The moment his father would finally have to say his name.

"Our Head of Project, our Team Leader..." Rebecca paused, her eyes sweeping over the crowd, intentionally skipping right over Cassian's face. "...and finally, the man who flawlessly spearheaded the entire proposal and negotiation process-Miles Morrison!"

The room erupted. People slammed their hands against the tables, cheering.

Cassian's world went utterly quiet. The sound of the clapping became a dull, roaring static in his ears.

"Furthermore," Rebecca boomed over the noise, "we are thrilled to announce that Miles will be stepping up from Director to become the new Chief Executive Officer of Morrison Group!"

The crowd rose to their feet in a standing ovation. Chairs scraped against the floor. Executive after executive leaned over to catch Miles's eye, desperate to flatter the new king.

Only Maurine and Cassian remained seated.

Maurine's jaw was dropped, her face flushing a dangerous, angry red. "What the actual fuck?" she hissed, slamming her pen down. "What is this? Why wasn't your name read? This project is yours, Cassian. Yours!"

Cassian couldn't form words. The air left his lungs, leaving a hollow, aching vacuum in his chest. Five years of sleepless nights. Five years of begging locals. Wiped away with a single sentence so the golden son could wear a stolen crown.

As if feeling the intensity of his silence, Patrick Morrison shifted on the stage. His cold, dark eyes scanned the standing crowd until they locked directly onto Cassian.

Cassian didn't look away. He let all his devastating hurt, all his years of suppressed agony, show in his stare.

Patrick responded with total, brutal indifference. He stepped up to the microphone, his eyes never leaving Cassian's face.

"While some bring glory to this empire," Patrick's icy voice cut through the fading applause, "others merely exploit our resources. Going out into the field day after day with zero tangible results is a failure we will not tolerate. Cassian Morrison will have his salary severely deducted this month to compensate for the company funds wasted on his useless field trips."

Maurine gasped, her voice choking on pure disbelief. "What the fuck..."

A few executives glanced back at Cassian, some with pity, most with smug satisfaction.

Cassian didn't break eye contact with his father. He didn't argue. He just let out a slow, ragged breath as the final string holding him to the Morrison name snapped completely.

The mahogany door to the Chairman's private office clicked shut, cutting off the distant, celebratory chatter of the boardroom.

Cassian stood near the leather armchairs, his heart hammering against his ribs. A pathetic, desperate sliver of hope flared up in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, Patrick had called him in here to explain. Maybe behind closed doors, away from Rebecca and the board, his father would look at him with a shred of regret and apologize for handing his sweat and blood over to Miles-the prince who already had everything.

Instead, Cassian walked right into an ambush.

Standing around Patrick's massive glass desk were the Head of Project and the Team Leader. The air was thick with silent intimidation. Before Cassian could even speak, the two executives made the management's terms brutally clear: Cassian was to keep his mouth shut. The City Center Redevelopment belonged to Miles now, and both executives had already signed off on the lie.

"Do we have an understanding, Cassian?" Patrick asked, his voice flat and transactional.

Cassian swallowed the dry lump in his throat. "Yes," he whispered.

He didn't agree because he wanted to. He agreed because he was still trapped in the toxic delusion that if he just gave in a little more, if he proved he was obedient, his father might finally give him a scrap of acknowledgment.

Satisfied, the two executives offered stiff nods and left the office, the door clicking heavily behind them.

Patrick didn't waste a second. He pulled a thick folder from his desk and slid it forward. "I need you to prepare the execution plan for the upcoming government kickoff meeting. Make sure the project startup timeline is flawless."

Cassian stared at the folder. He hesitated, his fingers twitching against his slacks. He knew he should just take it and leave, but the image of his mother's tired, hopeful face flashed in his mind.

"Chairman..." Cassian started, his voice cracking slightly before he corrected himself. "Dad... I mean, Chairman. Will you... will you come to my mother's sixtieth birthday celebration next week? It's the only thing she wishes for. Just an hour."

Patrick stopped writing. He slowly lifted his head, his expression turning into one of pure disgust. "Are you out of your mind? Do you want people to gossip? How am I supposed to explain my presence at a low-level employee's house?"

Cassian felt a cold numbness spreading through his limbs. "She isn't just an employee-"

"Don't push your luck, boy," Patrick snapped, leaning back in his leather chair. "Allowing you to work here alongside me is enough of a recognition. I am treating you best. So stop-"

"By doing what?!" The words burst out of Cassian before he could stop them, years of suppressed agony fracturing his composure. "By treating me the best?! You take my credit for everything I do and use it to crown Miles! Everything he has is a stolen crown built on my hard work! Why don't you just-"

CRACK.

The slap was so hard, so sudden, that the force of it whipped Cassian's head to the side. The sharp, burning sting exploded across his cheek, the sound echoing violently against the soundproof walls of the office.

"You stupid bastard," Patrick hissed, standing over him, his face twisted into a snarl. "A lowlife son of a bitch, how dare you desire my son's crown? How dare you call it stolen? Miles is my son. The only legitimate heir to the Morrison Group."

Cassian stumbled back a step, his hand slowly rising to hover over his burning, red cheek. His vision blurred with heavy, hot tears, but he forced himself not to let them fall. He refused to cry in front of this monster.

"People with your brain are a dime a dozen," Patrick sneered, adjusting his cuffs with sickening calm. "If I want to, I can buy ten-fuck, a million brains just like yours. But only my son Miles is the true heir. You do not compete where you don't compare. Do you understand me?"

Cassian squeezed his hands into fists so tight his fingernails bit into his palms, drawing blood. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to say fuck you, to spin on his heel and tell the man to shove his legacy up his ass. But the echo of his mother's voice-her pathetic, tearful pleas for him to gain a position, to save them from the trash-wrapped around his throat like a noose. He held his tongue.

With a chest violently heaving from the suffocating agony, Cassian forced his head down. He bowed, his voice nothing but a hollow, bleeding whisper.

"I understand."

He turned and walked out of the cold, lifeless office, leaving behind the man who was supposed to be his father-and leaving behind the last piece of loyalty he would ever give to the Morrison name.

Author's Note:

Welcome! Thank you so much for giving Rage with Benefits a chance. I am so excited to share Oliver and Cassian's story with you!

If you enjoyed this first chapter, please don't forget to vote, comment, and leave a review. I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts-and tell me, how did you find this story?

Happy reading!

- nanzia15