Empire of the Broken Hearted

I don't care what it takes," Isabella Hart said into the phone, her voice steady despite the quiver in her hands. "I need that interview." Her sister sounded hesitant on the line's opposite end. "Izzy, you are playing with fire." You want to get personal with Castellanos, a myth veiled in mystery? Isabella breathed deeply. "It is not only for the publication." It is for us. We want this. Her sister's breath was audible. "I know you're desperate, but don't you think you're in over your head?" Isabella's eyes sought the framed shot of their mother on her desk. The tenacity she set in her jaw matched that of the lady whose legacy she was striving to protect. "No," she said strongly. This is precisely where I belong. Alex Castellanos has a narrative to share that would save us. Isabella could almost hear the cogs turning in her sister's brain; the line went silent. "Alright," she finally admitted. But be careful. Remember, the higher the stakes, the colder the game. Isabella finished the call with fresh determination and shifted her focus to the mountain of research spread out before her. She understood Alex Castellanos was well-known for his guarded demeanor, thus she had to be ready to meet the Ice King head-on. She started to consider the man behind the moniker. Who was he really, exactly? What might have constructed such a barrier around his heart? Her curiosity aroused, she probed more deeply into his past, finding a path of betrayal and misery that painted a picture of a man wounded so profoundly he'd become insensible to the surrounding environment. Though not free from controversy, his ascent to dominance was shrouded in layers of legal jargon and PR manipulation. Alex Castellanos was clearly more than just a topic for an article; he was a riddle waiting to be solved. As Isabella examined every article, interview, and picture she could find, stitching together a chronology of his life, days became nights. She found the humanity under his chilly exterior the more she learned. Though he had been groomed for greatness from a young age by his powerful business father, Alex seemed to find the crucible of his metamorphosis in a love affair with Victoria. Heartbroken and vindictive, the woman who had formerly been his everything had betrayed him in the worst way imaginable. When she stumbled across a name that sent a shiver down her spine: Marcus Van der Waals, the office was a whirlwind of screens and papers. Alex's name was connected to a failed business transaction that had almost taken everything, and the ensuing ruthlessness with which he had restored his empire was iconic. She started to understand as she went more that Marcus was not just a competitor but also a man seeking vengeance. The type of guy who would stop at nothing to wipe his foe off the face of the planet. As Isabella learned about the lady they both loved, a knot began forming in her tummy. Victoria was a socialite, lovely and crafty, pitting men against each other. Alex had a scar that had never completely healed after the betrayal was quick and vicious. Though the human aspect of it drew her in, it was the kind of narrative that would help to sell magazines. Pain and loss that had formed him into the man he was now. The abrupt ring of her office phone interrupted her ideas. The caller ID revealed Alex Castellanos's personal assistant's name, and her heart skipped a beat. "Isabella Hart," she said, trying to sound professional despite the racing of her heart. "Mr. Castellanos has consented to meet with you tomorrow at noon at his office," Ms. Hart, the assistant's voice, was cool and competent. be punctual. She replied, "Thank you," then added, "I won't disappoint." The assistant maintained the same attitude. Very well. One month of your work in return for the interview. Understood? Isabella said, her head, but the line was silent. I will be there. As the hours dragged on, her stomach became a tangled mess of butterflies and anticipation rose. She had read enough about Alex Castellanos to realize this was not a regular interview. She had to be ready for anything. She hardly slept the night before the meeting; her thoughts were filled with potential questions and unspoken norms of behavior. Isabella was standing in front of the mirror the following morning, studying her reflection. Her customary work clothes didn't seem sufficient. She required armor that could resist the cold gaze of the man who could either launch or ruin her career. She went out into the busy Manhattan streets, wearing a crisp black blazer and a white blouse that combined boldness and a hint of feminine charm. Rising before her was the Castellanos Tower, a shining monument of power and riches. She inhaled deeply, straightened her shoulders, and entered, the aroma of aspiration and money swirling in the air. She repeated her opening lines on the long elevator ride to the top floor as the walls descended around her.