MR. ICE MAN

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the top floor of Cruz Holdings — silent, sleek, and intimidating. Everyone straightened as a tall man walked past. Alexander Cruz. Black suit, silver watch, expression unreadable. His employees whispered, > “That’s Mr. Ice Man.” “Don’t look him in the eyes.” He didn’t greet anyone. He didn’t need to. The temperature seemed to drop every time he entered the room. Inside his glass office, Alexander reviewed reports without emotion — until his intercom buzzed. > “Sir, your new assistant has arrived,” said his secretary. He didn’t even look up. > “Send her in.” The door opened with a nervous squeak. A young woman stepped inside, clutching a folder. > “Good morning, sir! I’m Mia Ramirez, your new assistant!” He slowly raised his eyes from the papers — cold, gray, and sharp. > “You’re five minutes late.” Mia froze. “Traffic, sir! I—” > “Excuses are irrelevant.” He cut her off, voice flat. “In my office, time is sacred. If you can’t manage that, you won’t last a week.” Her cheeks flushed red. “Then I’ll make sure to last two.” He blinked. No one ever talked back to him. For the first time in years, Alexander Cruz didn’t know how to respond. And just like that — the Ice Man felt the faintest crack in his frozen armor. ---