Chapter2
1053 Words
The double doors of the boardroom opened, and silence immediately covered the place. Every single board member straightened in their seat, their faces etched with nervousness as Lincolnshire, the CEO of the company, stepped in. Though they were all much older than him, but they can't bring themselves to misbehave in his presence. His aura was that threatening.
His three-piece tailored suit hugged his tall frame perfectly, and his expression was as stoic as ever.
As the heavy doors slammed shut behind him, his fingers twitched slightly, betraying the calm mask he wore.
“Let the meeting commence,” his cold voice rang out as he took his seat at the head of the table.
The first presenter stood, his hands shaking and his voice trembled as he began his presentation. Lincolnshire eyes remained fixed on the slides waiting to notice a minor error.
The man tried to steady his voice as he advanced to the next slide, but Lincolnshire’s gaze never left him. Every hesitation, every twitch, every misplaced emphasis was logged in those eyes, cold and unflinching.
He paused over a minor discrepancy,an irregular figure buried deep in the report. The man felt it too, but Lincolnshire didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned back slightly, folding his hands, letting the silence stretch like a trap closing. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, each second an eternity.
“Explain this,” Lincolnshire said, voice deceptively calm, pointing to the number. The man stuttered, trying to fabricate an answer, but Lincolnshire’s stare dissected it instantly. “No,” he interrupted, voice soft but deadly, “I will not accept guesses. You will tell the truth. And I will know if you lie. Do you think I wouldn't notice such a minor yet important thing." He let out a cold laugh.
As the man scrambled through his notes, Lincolnshire leaned forward, eyes scanning every chart, every figure, every expression. He made no overt threat, no raised voice—yet every second under that gaze hammered fear into the man’s mind. It was not anger; it was the certainty of consequence.
“Take your time,” Lincolnshire said, almost gently, “but know this: mistakes are remembered. Weaknesses are recorded. I see everything. Do not test me.”
The man nodded, trembling, acutely aware that the challenge was not just to fix the numbers but to survive Lincolnshire’s scrutiny. The presentation continued, but every click of the slides, every faltering word, was weighed and measured, and the man realized he was playing a game he could not afford to lose.
" Leave! I give you 24 hours to find out what happened. And if you don't, trust me getting fired would be the least of your problems." Lincolnshire said slowly, yet every word sounded like a bullet piercing through the Presenter's body.
After the board meeting, Lincolnshire retreated to his office. He loosened his tie slightly and leaned back in his chair, flipping through documents with precision. His phone rang, and the name Mother flashed across the screen. His jaw tightened. He kept looking at the phone ring without answering.
Opening a drawer, he pulled out a framed picture. For a moment, the cold mask on his face cracked, and a shadow of pain flickered in his eyes. With a heavy sigh, he placed the photo back and resumed his work.
Hours later, when the building had mostly emptied, he left his office. Passing by the elevators, a director called out to him " Sir, you can come in, there's still enough room in the elevator." He invited him as he saw Lincolnshire passing by the elevator. Lincolnshire declined without hesitation.
“Don’t you know?” a staff member whispered. “The CEO doesn’t use the elevator for some unknown reason.”
“He prefers the stairs, even though the elevator is much faster,” another added, shaking their head.
“That’s so weird,” a third muttered.
Lincolnshire ignored their whispers and walked away, his long strides echoing down the corridor.
He got to the garage where his driver was waiting. He entered the car and opened the window. He stared at the busy road as he rode home.
When he arrived home, he found his mother waiting in the living room, her face stormy with rage.
“Why didn’t you pick up my call?” she snapped.
“I was busy,” Lincolnshire replied curtly, removing his jacket.
Her eyes burned with fury. “Busy? After what you did, do you still have the luxury of ignoring me? You don’t even show a trace of regret. You’re still as cruel as ever—you devil!”
“If you’re here to talk about him again, kindly leave,” Lincolnshire said coldly.
His mother’s voice shook as she pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you ever forget what you did. You don’t deserve to be happy. You ruined everything, Lincolnshire. Do you think wealth and power will cover your sins? Do you think success erases blood? No matter how high you rise, the stench of what you did will always follow you.”
Her voice broke, filled with rage and grief. “Every time I look at you, I see a monster, not a son. You should have been the one bedridden for years, not him.”
A low, bitter laugh escaped his lips. “If you say so. I’m tired, Mother. I’ll be going in now.”
“How dare you walk out on me while I’m still talking?” she shouted, her voice cracking. “Come back here, you evil thing!”
But Lincolnshire ignored her, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he disappeared into the house, leaving her fury behind.
He went into his room, closing the door silently behind him. " If only she knew what happened" he thought as he sighed. He picked up the picture frame beside his bed. His thumb traced the smiling face in the frame. His expression was filled with warmth. He sighed and dropped the picture frame.
He went outside his veranda, the night air bit at his skin, sharp and unforgiving, just like the memory he couldn't outrun.
With each drag of the cigarette, the past replayed in his head. His
jaw tightened. " No one must ever know the truth."
- Writer
