The Billionaire Ruthless Obsession

Chapter 2:The Ruthless Billionaire Obsession

CHAPTER 2: The Ruthless Billionaire

The rhythmic, footsteps of a leather oxfords echoed down the polished marble corridor as Raymond Vance walked toward the main boardroom.

Employees scattered like leaves in a sudden gust of wind. Some took sharp detours into nearby cubicles, while others simply lowered their gazes, holding their breath until the suit-clad silhouette vanished around the corner. The atmosphere in the building always shifted when he arrived.....colder, sharper, and utterly devoid of relaxed chatter.

Around Vance Holdings, fear didn't just linger in the air. It had a name, and it was Raymond Vance.

At thirty-one, Raymond wasn't merely one of the youngest billionaires on the continent; he was easily the most formidable. Taking over what had once been a shaky family business, he’d spent the last decade tearing it apart and rebuilding it into a global titan. Real estate, luxury resorts, commercial tech—his empire touched nearly every lucrative market across three oceans.

But dominance demanded sacrifices. Over the years, Raymond had learned to trust no one, expect perfection without excuse, and treat rank incompetence like a contagious disease.

Behind him, his personal assistant practically jogged to keep up with Raymond’s longer, unhurried stride.

"Sir," the younger man began, clutching an iPad.

Raymond didn't slow down. "What?"

"The delegation from Singapore just checked into the main foyer."

"Good."

"The board members are already at the table."

"They have chairs. They can wait another two minutes he responded rudely."

"And the financial press requested...."

"No."

"They insisted it was urgent...."

"They always do," Raymond cut in smoothly.

The assistant swallowed his remaining arguments. Everyone in the corporate world knew Raymond Vance rarely granted press interviews unless it served a multi-million-dollar objective. Personal questions were strictly off-limits, especially anything involving his high-profile bachelor status or marriage prospects.

As they reached the heavy double doors of the boardroom, the assistant hesitated, taking a brave step closer. "There is... one more thing, Mr. Vance."

Raymond finally paused, turning his cold, steel-gray eyes on the younger man. "Speak."

"Your grandmother called. Twice."

A tiny, almost imperceptible crease formed between Raymond’s dark brows. "What is Evelyn up to now?"

"She... reminded me to remind you about dinner tomorrow night."

Raymond pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling an oncoming headache behind his eyes. "I basically told her my schedule was booked through the weekend."

"She said canceling was not an option," the assistant offered, sounding genuinely apologetic. "And she left a message saying she’s set up another blind date."

A quiet, humorless chuckle escaped Raymond's lips. "Absolutely not."

"I have spent the last six months sitting across from socialites whose primary ambition in life is choosing rug patterns for a townhouse," Raymond said, his tone flat. "Tell her I'm tied up with the European mergers."

The assistant wisely kept his mouth shut.

Raymond pushed open the boardroom doors, and the room fell into an absolute hush. Ten senior executives stood up behind their leather armchairs as one unit.

"Good morning, Mr. Vance."

He gave them a single, concise nod. "Sit."

The presentation began. Quarter-four projections, asset allocations, risk management reports...the numbers flowed smoothly for forty minutes. Until the chief financial analyst stumbled over a slide.

"As you can see, our net profit margin for the second quarter saw a steady increase of twelve percent."

"Eleven point seven," Raymond interrupted calmly, The analyst froze, his laser pointer trembling against the projection screen. "...I'm sorry?"

Raymond leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his arms. "The precise margin was eleven point seven percent. You're rounding up to make a lackluster quarter look respectable. Do you expect our board to make multi-million-dollar investments based on numbers you can't be bothered to memorize?"

The man's collar suddenly looked entirely too tight. "I... no, sir. My apologies."

"Save the apologies for the audit," Raymond said, shutting his digital tablet with a crisp click. "Redo the entire packet. Correctly this time."

"Mr. Vance, the board votes tomorrow afternoon.

"My time is expensive, gentlemen, and I don't pay for mistakes," Raymond warned quietly. "You have until five to fix it."

Nobody dared argue. For the remainder of the meeting, the atmosphere remained unfelt and not a single voice wavered again.

An hour later, Raymond stood alone in his top-floor office, looking out over the endless concrete and glass grid of the city. Down there, millions of people were chasing success, money, and status. Very little of it impressed him anymore.

His private phone vibrated on the polished desk behind him. Evelyn.

He stared at the caller ID for three full seconds before picking up. "I'm working, Grandmother."

A low, elegant laugh sounded through the receiver. "Good morning to you too, darling. Do you always answer the woman who raised you like she's a process server?"

"Only when I know she's trying to corner me."

"I miss my favorite grandson."

"I saw you last Thursday."

"Four days is an eternity at my age," Evelyn countered seamlessly. "I expect you at the estate tomorrow at seven sharp."

Raymond sighed, leaning an arm against the cool windowpane. "I have important meetings, Evelyn. I can't make it."

"Nonsense. You own the company. Re-schedule them."

"Grandmother...."

"I have already invited a lovely young woman," Evelyn said, her voice dropping into that sweet, stubborn tone he knew all too well. "And before you start barking at me, this one is different."

"They're always 'different,' and they always spend two hours talking about their handbag collections."

"You haven't even met her yet."

"I don't need to."

A brief silence hung on the line. Then, Evelyn spoke in a softer, almost gentle tone that cut right through his defensive armor. "One dinner, Raymond. For me."

Raymond closed his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. He could handle hostile takeovers and corrupt board members, but he was completely helpless against his grandmother. "...Fine. One hour."

Evelyn chuckled softly. "Wonderful. Wear something nice. Goodbye, dear."

The line went dead before he could even answer. Raymond stared at the screen, muttering, "Unbelievable," under his breath.

Across the city, in a modest two-room apartment, Alice Ryan was quietly humming to herself as she ironed her best dark skirt.

For the first time in three weeks, the heavy knot in her stomach had finally loosened its grip. The apartment was tiny—the paint near the kitchen window was peeling, and the floorboards creaked if you stepped on them wrong—but standing here with a real job waiting for her on Monday felt like coming up for fresh air.

On her small kitchen table sat the official Vance Holdings onboarding folder. She had spent the entire morning reading through every line of the employee handbook: Professional attire strictly required. Arrive twenty minutes before shift start. Adhere to all non-disclosure agreements.

Simple enough, she thought.

She folded the skirt neatly over a chair and opened her small refrigerator to see what she could pull together for dinner. One half-empty carton of milk, a heel of whole-wheat bread, and two eggs.

Alice offered the empty shelves a small, ironic smile. "Well, it's not a three-course meal, but I've survived on less."

Her phone buzzed against the counter, displaying Emma's face.

"Tell me you aren't currently reorganizing your closet for the third time," Emma chimed in the moment Alice picked the call

Alice laughed, leaning against the counter. "I'm ironing my clothes, thank you very much."

"Are you nervous?"

"A little," Alice admitted, looking over at the heavy silver logo on her folder. "It's a huge company, Emma. The lobby alone looks like it costs more than my entire family tree made in a lifetime."

"You're going to crush it," Emma said with total certainty. "Just stay out of the corporate crossfire and do what you do best."

"That's the plan. Do my work, collect my paycheck, and rebuild my savings."

"What if the CEO turns out to be a total tyrant? I heard a rumor online that he practically breathes fire."

Alice shrugged, pulling the bread from the fridge. "People love to dramatize powerful men. Besides, I'm an entry-level employee in a building with forty floors. The odds of me ever bumping into the CEO are basically zero. I'll just do my job and mind my business."

"And what if he turns out to be insanely handsome?" Emma teased softly.

"I'm there to earn a living, and not look for a boyfriend. I am officially retired from romance."

"Oh, come on, one bad date doesn't mean..."

"That blind date last month was enough to cure me of dating for the next decade," Alice interrupted, her voice tightening slightly as the memory resurfaced.

She could still picture that arrogant, nameless man sitting across from her....his tailored suit, his bored and dismissive gray eyes, the effortless way he had spoken down to her as if she were a mild inconvenience in his schedule.

She shook her head, clearing the memory. "Anyway, I'm moving on. Fresh start."

"Fresh start," Emma agreed warmly.

Neither of them had any idea that thirty stories up, inside a corner office overlooking the city, Raymond Vance was staring at his calendar with the exact same sense of dread completely unaware that the girl whose pride he had brui

sed was about to walk right through his front doors to work at his company.