Cruel Love

Chapter 2

Tension crackled in the air at Vincent Corporation. The annual layout presentation loomed, a deadline their notoriously demanding boss had emphasized with a not-so-subtle threat of docked paychecks. Every employee hunched over their desks, minds churning for the most brilliant ideas.

Suddenly, a heavy tread echoed through the open-plan office, each booming step punctuated by the collective intake of breath from the staff. Heads snapped up, eyes widening in unison. It was Mr. Vincent, their CEO, a man built like a bear, with a scowl that could curdle milk.

As he strode past, a hush fell over the room. Employees sprang to their feet; a wave of nervous bows rippled through the crowd.

Zane Vincent, owner of the Vincent Corporation, swept into the office with an air of quiet command. Dark hair, styled to perfection, framed his striking features, sharp like a hawk’s with a hint of mischief dancing in his slightly green eyes. Though twenty-nine, a youthful energy defied his age. His tall, broad-shouldered physique, clad in a tailored suit, hinted at the power he wielded. A gaggle of department heads trailed behind him, their hurried updates bouncing off the tense silence in the room.

The clenched jaw beneath his designer stubble hinted at simmering irritation, a feeling readily picked up by the watchful employees. Today was not the day to test Mr. Vincent’s patience.

Shortly after, he entered his private office. The luxurious space reflected his personality, a study in sleek modernity. Black marble floors gleamed beneath plush carpets, while the dark wood furniture and heavy curtains gave the room a distinctly masculine feel. A floor-to-ceiling glass wall offered a panoramic view of the city, a constant reminder of the empire he ruled.

“Everything prepared for the presentation?” Zane inquired. His deep voice was a surprising contrast to his youthful appearance; confidence resonated in every word.

“Yes, sir,” chimed his secretary, a petite man with nerves of steel. “The meeting starts at 1:30 p.m., followed by a media interview.”

“Anything else on the schedule?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, consulting his tablet. “You have a family dinner planned for 8 p.m.”

A sigh escaped Zane’s lips. The weight of his responsibilities, both professional and personal, pressed down on him. He had a small, close-knit family: a devoted mother, two younger sisters, and a brother. As the eldest, the burden of leadership had fallen upon him after his father’s tragic death. He ran a hand through his dark hair, the sharp lines of his features softening briefly with guilt. He hadn’t been giving his family the time they deserved.

With a curt nod of dismissal to his secretary, Zane pulled out his phone, dialing the number of his best friend, Chris, the owner of a well-respected detective agency.

Zane’s gaze drifted to the city sprawling beneath him through the vast glass wall. His father’s death, a senseless murder of a good man falsely accused, had fueled Zane’s ambition. He had become ruthless, clawing his way to the top to ensure his family’s safety and security; a vow he had made silently at his father’s grave.

“Chris,” Zane said as the call connected, his voice losing its usual polished calm and sharpening into something colder. “I need a favor.”

The words hung in the air, taut with unspoken weight. On the other end, Chris, his childhood friend, the one person who had known Zane before the world hardened him, immediately caught the strain beneath the surface.

“What’s wrong, man?” Chris’s tone softened, concern bleeding through the static. “You know I’ve got you. Always.”

Their friendship ran deep, forged in scraped knees, late-night dares, and the kind of loyalty that time only strengthens. If there was one person Zane Vincent could trust without question, it was Chris, and that trust made the tremor in his voice all the more telling.

“Can’t discuss over the phone. Let’s meet somewhere tonight,” Zane replied, his voice betraying a hint of weariness.

“My place, usual time?” Chris offered.

“Yeah. Cool. I’ll be there.” Zane ended the call.

The day stretched into a marathon of meetings and interviews. Zane, ever the professional, navigated them with practiced ease. On his way home, he stopped by a bakery, picking up a small cake layered with fluffy vanilla sponge and swirls of his little sister’s favorite strawberry frosting.

Soon, he pulled into the familiar driveway of his home. When he finally stepped inside, the soft scent of lemon polish and wood wrapped around him like a memory.

“Welcome home, Master Zane,” the old maid greeted with a gentle smile, wiping her hands on her apron.

Zane nodded in acknowledgment, his voice low but kind. “Thank you, Martha.”

But his gaze had already shifted to Hannah.

She stood a few steps away, her face lit with excitement, the kind of smile that could melt even the hardest of days. Her small arms were already halfway extended toward him. Her eyes were gleaming with pure adoration.

“Zaney!” she chirped, sprinting toward him before he could even set his keys or the cake down. “I missed you, Zane!” Her voice quivered as tears welled in her big brown eyes.

Guilt tugged at his chest. He knelt and pulled her into his arms, holding her close. “I’m so sorry, princess. Work kept me longer than I wanted. I should’ve come sooner,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret.

From behind them, his mother smiled softly, though a flicker of sadness lingered in her gaze. “We were waiting for you, dear,” she said, her voice laced with warmth. “Come, dinner’s ready.”

“I brought you something,” Zane said, opening the small bakery box. Hannah’s eyes widened in delight as she peeked inside, her earlier tears replaced by wonder. Relief eased the tension in Zane’s shoulders, a small victory in a day full of challenges.

“Thank you, Zane! You’re the best big brother ever!” Hannah squealed, bouncing on her toes.

Zane chuckled, the sound genuine and heartfelt. “Just promise to save me a piece,” he winked at her.