a cold billionaire
1337 Words
The wind on the rooftop whistled. From this high up, the city below looked like it was built to bend to his will, a wide stretch of glittering maze of steel and glass. Cars zoomed down on the roads below, sleek and shining.
Lennox Morel stood near the edge, one hand in his pockets, the wind danced around him. His black suit caught the sunlight, crisp and sharp like everything else about him. A helicopter sat at the far end of the helipad, its blades still and waiting.
He stood near the edge, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding a tablet that reflected the skyline. His jaw was tight, eyes narrowed on the headline splashed across the screen:
“MOREL CEO CAUGHT IN LATE-NIGHT CLUB SCANDAL.”
Underneath it was a blurry photo of him, or rather someone who looked enough like him that could convince the masses, stepping out of a club surrounded by lights and half-dressed women. The caption screamed
Except it wasn’t him.
And the board didn’t care neither did the press.
“Evan,” he muttered, voice low but sharp enough to slice through the air.
His assistant. “Yes, sir?”
Lennox didn’t answer immediately. He tossed the tablet away. It hit the concrete with a c***k that echoed across the rooftop. Evan jumped, he composed himself as he straightened his tie.
“That article cost me a a drop in my stocks this morning,” Lennox said, turning toward him.
“They called an emergency meeting this morning.”
“I’m aware, sir. They...”
“Did you find him?”
Evan adjusted the earpiece tucked into his right ear, his gaze flicking to the steel door across the rooftop. He muttered into it.
“Bring him”. Then he turned back to Lennox
“He’s on his way up.”
“Good.”
Lennox turned back to the skyline. His expression calm but his hands clenched behind his back.
The rooftop glass door slid open. Two men in black suits stepped out, dragging a smaller, rumpled, Middle-aged between them. His shirt was half torn, the face bruised and his eyes darted wildly in fear. The men brought him in front of Evan and threw him to his knees.
“Sir,” Evan said, stepping forward, “this is Mr. Hawkins. Freelance reporter. We caught him at the airport trying to board a flight to Dubai.”
Lennox didn’t turn around. “Family?”
“Divorced. One daughter, sixteen, attending a public school in Leeds. She's been detained for bullying. He has an house under mortgage. A gambling debt with Voss Group. I assume that’s why he was bought so easily.”
The man trembled, terrified at how much they knew about him. he dropped to his knees. “Please… Mr. Morel, I didn’t mean to....”
Lennox finally turned. The movement was slo. His gray eyes were unreadable. His hands clenched behind his back, he made his way towards Hawkins.
“You didn’t mean to?” he repeated softly, taking a step closer. The sound of his leather shoes on the rooftop echoing, as he moved closer, each sound bringing dread to Hawkins's hearing.
“You dragged my name through the mud, destroyed ten years of clean PR, and you didn’t mean to?”
Hawkins swallowed hard, his eyes darted to the ground. “I—I was just doing my job.”
Lennox laughed once, a hollow sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “Your job,” he said, walking closer until he in front of him.
“Your job is to slander upright and honest CEOs?”
Despite his fear, Hawkins glanced at Lennox. Upright? Honest? Who? Lennox Morel? What a joke. But he still managed to talk.
“I was paid....”
“By who?”
Hawkins froze. “I—I have no idea, they didn't....”
Without a word, he walked forward and kicked Hawkins in the ribs so hard the man yelled and fell sideways. Lennox delivered another brutal kick to his stomach. The sickening sound echoed on the rooftop. The man clutched his stomach, groaning and writhing in pain.
One of the guards held him upright, but Lennox crouched down, voice lowering to a whisper.
“I won't ask again. By who?”
“I—It was a mistake, I swear.....”
Lennox grabbed him by the collar and yanking him up, he began to drag him towards the edge of the rooftop. Hawkins realized what he was going to do.
“I will talk! I will talk!” he yelled, his eyes widened in horror. Lennox dragged him closer until their faces were inches apart.
“Say the name.”
The man shouted. “Asher! Asher Morel paid me!”
Silence. It seems even the wind paused.
Lennox threw him away like a discarded tissue. The man fell to the ground, shaking in fear.
“Of course,” Lennox muttered, standing straight again, face hardened with restrained fury.
His stepbrother’s name tasted bitter. Asher the golden boy, the one who smiled for the cameras while stabbing people's back behind closed doors.
Lennox looked at Hawkins again, eyes colder now. “Take it down.”
“I will, I swear! I’ll...”
He didn’t get to finish. Evan nodded once to the guards. One of them walked up to him, a swift hit to the back of Hawkins’s head and he went limp.
Evan looked at Lennox. “Should I.....?”
“No,” Lennox interrupted. “Leave him somewhere the rats can find him. I want his name erased from every publication database within the hour. And Evan....”
“Yes, sir?”
“Send a message to Asher.” Lennox’s voice was quieter now, but far more dangerous. “Tell him if he wants war, I’ll bring it to his doorstep.”
“Yes, Mr. Morel.”
Lennox turned toward the exit. “And prepare the car.”
Downstairs, the atmosphere couldn’t have been more different. The moment word spread that the CEO was coming down through the main lobby, chaos erupted. Assistants smoothed their skirts, women adjusted their hair and makeup, managers straightened their ties, and interns tried to look invisible.
When the elevator chimed, the entire floor froze.
Lennox stepped out like a storm in human form — sharp, cold, and perfectly composed. Evan followed, tablet in hand, while four security guards trailed behind. The sound of chatters and whispers faded into silence as he walked through.
Then he stopped.
Across the marble floor, a young woman stood by the reception desk, neat white shirt in a black skirt, hair tied back, head slightly bowed. Ava Hawkins.
Lennox’s gaze fixed on her.
“Ava,” he said. His voice carried across the room. Everyone turned to look.
She froze. “Y-yes, sir?”
“You’re fired.”
Her lips parted in shock. “W–What?”
“You’ll leave the building before noon.”
Her eyes brimmed, her face pale. She wanted to defend herself, but Lennox had already turned away.
He didn’t look back as he exited through the main doors. Behind him, murmurs resumed in the lobby, whispers rose. Everyone glanced at the unlucky woman, whispering to themselves.
“She’s done for.”
“Personally fired by Mr. Morel himself.”
“She’ll never work in this industry again.”
“She has always been a good person.”
“Gosh, how did she offend the CEO?”
Outside, sunlight hit Lennox’s face as he stepped into the car. Evan opened the door, and Lennox slid inside. For a moment, he leaned back, eyes closing.
Power didn’t feel like power anymore. It felt like an heavy metal chain.
He exhaled, low and tired. “Evan,” he said quietly. “Find out everything Asher had been up to in the last two weeks. I want names, places, deals everything he has touched.”
“Yes, sir.”
The car door shut.
- Writer
