Chapter4
2185 Words
~ ADRIAN ~
“Are you out of your mind?” I slammed my hand on the desk, the sound echoing across my office. “I told you to handle it discreetly. Discreetly, Collin. Not start a war behind my back.”
Collin didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened. “I handled it the only way that made sense. You weren’t doing anything about it.”
“You don’t decide what I do,” I snapped. “You don’t make moves without my approval.”
“You’ve been slipping,” Collin shot back. “Ever since the divorce”
The words weren’t even finished before my hand closed around the glass paperweight on my desk. I threw it against the wall with full force.
It exploded into shards.
“Don’t,” I said quietly, dangerously, “finish that sentence.”
Collin swallowed hard, but he stood his ground. “The board wants results, Adrian. Not moods. Not silence. Results.”
“Get out,” I said.
“We’re not done.”
“Oh, we are.” My voice came out flat, cold. “Get out before I fire you on the spot.”
Collin stared at me for a long moment, chest rising and falling sharply, then turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Silence settled over the office, thick and heavy.
The shattered glass glinted on the floor.
I pressed my fingers against my temple and exhaled slowly, trying to force my pulse back under control.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Come in,” I muttered.
My assistant stepped in carefully, her eyes flicking to the broken glass before returning to me. “Sir… you have a high-priority meeting in twenty minutes. They’re waiting to confirm your attendance.”
I nodded once, steadying my voice. “I’ll be there.”
She hesitated. “And the mess?”
“Get someone to clean it up,” I said without looking at her.
“Yes, sir.”
She slipped out quietly.
I stayed still for a moment, jaw tight, pulse still uneven, trying to push the anger back down.
But it didn’t go down.
By the time I walked into the boardroom, the rage was still there, burning under my skin, making every breath feel too sharp. The executives were already seated, a neat row of pressed suits and expectant stares. The long glass table reflected all of them, but the second I stepped in, the room shifted. Chairs straightened. Conversations cut off mid-sentence.
They knew that I was in no mood to tolerate bullshit.
“Good morning, Mr. Alvarez,” someone on the left said cautiously.
I didn’t bother responding. I dropped the folder in my hand onto the table so hard it slapped against the glass.
“Which one of you thought it was a brilliant idea to approve the Chicago merger pitch without running it by me first?”
Silence.
Not a single person breathed.
My eyes scanned the room. “No one?” I said. “Interesting. Because it damn well wasn’t me.”
A middle-aged man near the end of the table cleared his throat. “Sir, we assumed you were still reviewing the—”
“Assumed?” I barked out a humorless laugh. “You assumed?”
The room flinched.
I hit my fist on the table.
Hard.
The reverberation shook water glasses and sent a couple pens rolling.
“You don’t assume,” I snapped. “Not with my company. Not with my name on the line. Not when the last thing I need is another problem on my desk.”
No one dared speak.
I could feel the anger climbing again, tightening my muscles, heating my skin. It wasn’t even just about the merger or the incompetence or Collin running his mouth.
It was everything.
I was still walking around with this tight, silent pressure in my chest. Still waking up some mornings feeling like I’d lost something I didn’t know how to get back.
Still thinking about her.
And I hated that.
I tore my attention back to the people in front of me.
“Someone explain,” I said. “Now.”
A younger executive—Carter, I think gathered the courage to speak. “The Chicago team reached out directly. They wanted a faster timeline. We thought you..”
“You thought wrong,” I cut in. “And now I have a goddamn chaos spiral to clean up.”
He opened his mouth again, but I raised a hand.
“I don’t want excuses. I want this fixed. Today. And if any of you ever bypass me again…” I paused, letting my gaze settle on each person, one by one, “…you won’t have desks left to bypass.”
A few people nodded quickly.
“Good,” I said. “Now move.”
Chairs scraped immediately as the room scrambled to obey. Papers shuffled. People whispered urgently. The tension was suffocating.
But they weren't scared of the merger.
They were scared of me.
And the worst part?
I didn’t care.
I was too tired, too irritated, too—
No. I wasn’t thinking about that. Not today.
“Everyone except Carter, stay out,” I added.
Everyone rushed out as if I’d opened the door to freedom. Carter sank slowly back into his chair, his face pale.
“Relax,” I said flatly. “If I wanted to fire you, I would’ve done it in front of everyone.”
He swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“This merger,” I continued. “Give me details. Not fluff. Give me the truth.”
He nodded vigorously. “They’re trying to push aggressively because their competitor is launching early next quarter. They’re cornered. They want you because you’re the only one who can scale fast enough to keep them alive.”
I sighed. “So they’re desperate.”
“Yes. That’s why they bypassed—”
“Why you bypassed me,” I corrected.
He winced. “I’m sorry, sir. Truly.”
His honesty worked in his favor. I leaned back, finally taking a full breath.
“Fine. Schedule a call with their CEO for this afternoon. And next time you have a situation brewing, anything, bring it to my desk. I don’t care if I’m out of the country or bleeding out on a conference stage.”
He blinked. “Bleeding sir?”
“It’s an expression. Get out.”
“Yes, sir.” He scrambled to gather his things and nearly tripped over his own foot on the way out.
When the door shut behind him, I finally let the silence settle again. Real silence this time. Not the suffocating version from earlier—the kind that hit after an explosion.
I pinched the bridge of my nose again, exhaling slowly.
This wasn’t me.
Not the version I used to be.
I used to be sharp. Controlled. Strategic. I had built an entire empire with precision, not tantrums.
But lately…
Lately it took little to break through my self-control. Too little to push me from focused to furious.
I knew why.
I just didn’t like admitting it.
The door opened slightly. My assistant peeked in. “Sir? You asked me to remind you about the ten o’clock?”
Right. The investors.
“I’ll be there.”
She nodded. “Should I bring you anything? Coffee?”
No. I didn’t need caffeine. I needed something to take the edge off.
“Water,” I said. “Cold.”
She nodded and closed the door again.
Alone, I allowed myself a moment—just one before pulling my phone from my pocket. My thumb hovered over the screen, over a name I hadn’t called or texted.
Lily.
I tightened my grip on the phone until my knuckles whitened.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket.
I didn’t have time for this.
I didn’t have time for the ghosts of choices I couldn’t undo.
I stood, straightened my cuffs, and walked out of the boardroom, my expression cold and unreadable.
If I was going to get through this day without burning the company to the ground, I needed to bury the rest of the anger somewhere it couldn't claw its way out.
At least until something else triggered it again.
And lately everything did.
- Writer
