Cruel Love

Chapter 2

Tension crackled in the air at Vincent Corporation like a live wire. The annual layout presentation loomed, a deadline their notoriously demanding boss had emphasized with a not-so-subtle threat of docked paychecks. Every employee hunched over their desks, minds churning for the most brilliant ideas.

Suddenly, a heavy tread echoed through the open-plan office, each booming step punctuated by the collective intake of breath from the staff. Heads snapped up, eyes widening in unison. It was Mr. Vincet, their CEO, a man built like a bear with a scowl that could curdle milk.

As he strode past, a hush fell over the room. Employees sprang to their feet. A wave of nervous bows rippled through the crowd.

Zane Vincent, proprietor of the Vincent Corporation, swept into the office with an air of quiet command. Dark hair, styled to perfection, framed his striking features, sharp like a hawk's, with a hint of mischief dancing in his slightly green eyes. Though twenty-nine, a youthful energy defied his age. His tall, broad-shouldered physique, clad in a tailored suit, hinted at the power he wielded. A gaggle of department heads trailed behind him, their hurried updates bouncing off the tense silence in the room.

The clenched jaw beneath his designer stubble hinted at a simmering irritation, a sentiment readily picked up by the watchful employees. Today was not the day to test Mr. Vincent's patience.

Shortly, he entered his private office. His luxurious office reflected his personality, a study in sleek modernity. Black marble floors gleamed beneath plush carpets, while the dark wood furniture and curtains gave the space a distinctly masculine feel. A floor-to-ceiling glass wall offered a panoramic view of the city, a constant reminder of the empire he ruled.

"Everything prepared for the presentation?" Zane inquired. His deep voice was a surprising contrast to his youthful appearance. Confidence resonated in each word.

"Yes, sir," chimed his secretary, a petite man with nerves of steel. "The meeting starts at 1:30 pm, followed by a media interview."

"Anything else on the schedule?"

"Yes, sir," he replied, consulting his tablet. "You have a family dinner planned for 8 pm."

A sigh escaped Zane's lips. The weight of his responsibilities, both professional and personal, pressed down on him. He had a small, close-knit family, a devoted mother, two younger sisters, and a brother. As the eldest, the burden of leadership fell upon him after his father's tragic death. He ran a hand through his dark hair, the sharp lines of his features softening for a brief moment with a pang of guilt. He hadn't been giving his family the time they deserved.

With a curt nod of dismissal to his secretary, Zane pulled out his phone, dialing the number of his best friend, Chris, the owner of a well-respected detective agency.

Zane's gaze drifted to the city sprawling beneath him through the vast glass wall. His father's death, a senseless murder of a good man falsely accused, had fueled Zane's ambition. He had become ruthless, clawing his way to the top to ensure his family's safety and security. A vow he made silently at his father's grave.

"Chris," Zane answered as the phone connected, his voice hardening back into his business tone. "I need a favor..."

The curt request hung in the air for a moment. Chris, Zane's childhood friend and confidante, picked up on the underlying tension.

"What is it, buddy? You know I am always there for you," Chris asked, concern lancing through his voice. Their bond went back years, forged in the crucible of childhood adventures and teenage secrets. Zane trusted Chris implicitly.

"Can't discuss over the phone. Let's meet somewhere tonight," Zane replied, his voice betraying a hint of weariness.

"My place, usual time?" Chris offered.

"Yeah, cool. I'll be there." Zane ended the call.

........................................................................

The day stretched into a marathon of meetings and interviews. Zane, ever the professional, navigated them with practiced ease. He stopped by a bakery on his way home. Picking up a small cake with layers of fluffy vanilla sponge and swirls of his little sister's favorite strawberry frosting.

Soon, he pulled into the familiar driveway of his home. Parking his car, he took a deep breath, the weight of the day settling on him.

As he entered the house, an old maid, working at their home, greeted him with a warm, "Welcome home, Master Zane." He returned the greeting politely.

But his focus was on Hannah, who beamed at him, her face lit up like a miniature sun.

"I missed you, Zane!" she blurted, tears welled up in her big brown eyes.

Guilt washed over Zane. "I am so sorry, princess. I was busy. That's why I couldn't come to see you," he said, his voice thick with regret as he knelt down and enveloped her in a hug.

His mother smiled, a hint of sadness lingering in her eyes. "We were waiting for you, dear," she said, her voice laced with tenderness. "Let's go and eat. Dinner is ready."

"I brought you something," Zane said, handing Hannah the small bakery box. Her eyes widened with delight as she peeked inside. Relief washed over Zane, a small victory in a day filled with challenges.

"Thank you, Zane. You're the best big brother ever!" Hannah exclaimed, bouncing on her toes.

Zane chuckled. The sound was genuine and heartfelt. "Just promise to save me a piece," he winked at her.