Chapter 6: The Untouchable CEO
753 Words
The Đạt Đông Building, tallest in City A pierced the sky with the same arrogance and aloofness as the man who stood atop it: Dục Hàng.
66th Floor – President’s Office, Đạt Đông Group.
A place of absolute silence.
Footsteps echoed with precision as the frosted glass door slid open gently, pushed by the secretary.
Secretary Lâm, who had followed Dục Hàng for eight years, entered with a file in hand. His face was calm, but there was a subtle trace of tension in his eyes.
Secretary Dương had sent this document to him earlier that morning.
“President Dục, this is the marriage certificate between you and Miss Tư. It’s been notarized just returned this morning from Notary Office No. 2.” He bowed slightly and placed the file on the desk in front of the man seated behind a mahogany desk.
Sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft glow on Dục Hàng’s sculpted features. His pale lips curled ever so slightly. He glanced at the file, expression unreadable. Paperwork to be signed lay in towering stacks across the desk. Secretary Lâm looked slightly disheartened.
Another overtime day, it seems…
The man didn’t lift his head.
His slender fingers idly turned a silver fountain pen in his palm so lightly, it made no sound.
He wore a crisp white shirt, not a single crease in sight. The top buttons were left undone, revealing a glimpse of his masculine collarbones. His black suit jacket hung casually on the back of his leather chair. Even without a tie or a buttoned collar, the man exuded an untouchable, dangerous aura.
He checked the time on his watch, not sparing the file so much as a glance.
“Leave it.” His voice was low, cool as midnight wind.
“Yes, sir.” Secretary Lâm dared not ask further. He placed the file a short distance away and retreated with a bow.
“Get out.”
Two short words. Flat, emotionless.
The door shut. Silence returned.
Dục Hàng leaned on his elbow, fingers tapping rhythmically against the glass surface of the desk. His deep, obsidian eyes gazed out at the city beyond.
City A was waking up. Traffic thickened. People rushed about their day.
He didn’t care.
Marriage? Just a business transaction… one forced upon him by his grandfather.
People called him cold-hearted, and perhaps he was. He didn’t care for anyone.
No one but her.
A girl he had met once, long ago under a red tree by the mountainside. She had turned and smiled at him, and that smile had burned itself into his soul ever since.
He never found her again. No name. No number. No trace. But that image had etched itself into his heart for over a decade.
Just a chance meeting of two lost strangers in the forest…
And he had spent a lifetime yearning.
If it’s not her, I won’t marry.
Yet today, here he was married to a stranger. No face, no emotion, no presence in his life.
His grandfather’s ultimatum still echoed in his ears:
“If you don’t marry, the 10% share won’t be transferred to you. Think it over.”
The old man his only remaining family had raised him since his parents died in a car crash when he was thirteen.
Dục Hàng didn’t need shares to prove his worth. But he needed control over the entire Dục Group… to eliminate the scheming relatives lurking behind his back.
He scoffed a cold, bitter laugh.
This marriage meant nothing. Not worth another thought.
He had agreed without hesitation. If needed, one signature could end it. Divorce was just as easy.
“Emergency meeting in ten minutes,” he ordered into the desk phone.
8:30 AM – 61st Floor Executive Conference Room.
Twelve seats, each occupied by the most powerful figures in Đạt Đông Group. Department directors. Project leaders. Legal supervisors. Foreign investment heads. Each one sharp, alert.
All were present except one.
The door opened.
Dục Hàng walked in.
Every step measured, yet commanding. The room fell silent. Someone even sucked in a sharp breath.
This man’s presence was overwhelming. His brows were slightly furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.
Too perfect. Too untouchable.
Countless heiresses had pined for him. Some waited hours in the company’s lobby just to catch a glimpse.
But all had been swiftly turned away.
By his order Dục Hàng himself.
People said he was picky.
But for a man like him? He had every right to be.
- Writer
