CHAPTER 3

As the plane touched down, the familiar sights of home brought a smile to my face. Five years away had been too long, but now I was back where I belonged.

"Ahh, it's good to be home," I remarked to myself, peering out the window at the bustling airport.

A sleek Lamborghini awaited me on the tarmac, and without a word, my personal assistant sprang into action, greeting the driver and overseeing the loading of my bags.

"Welcome back, boss," the driver greeted me with a nod as he collected my luggage.

"Thank you," I replied, acknowledging his gesture with a nod of my own.

As I settled into the plush interior of the car, the cool air and soft music provided a moment of respite from the whirlwind of my return.

"Hello, boss," Sophia's voice crackled over the line, but I swiftly ended the call, my mind already racing with the weight of responsibilities.

"Sophia, please arrange a meeting with Marc as soon as possible," I instructed, tapping my fingers on the armrest.

"Right away, sir," she replied promptly, her voice crisp and efficient.

Another call, another issue to address. Being CEO of the largest company in New York left little room for respite.

"Sir," a woman's voice greeted me, delivering news that struck me to the core. "Amelia is dead."

My heart sank at the news, but I quickly composed myself, steeling against the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

"How did she die?" I managed to choke out, masking my grief with a facade of composure.

"Yesterday, in a tragic accident," came the reply.

"Send me the location," I instructed, already dialing my lawyer, Marc.

"Turn the car around," I commanded, my mind reeling with the sudden loss.

"Marc, what are we going to do? The Mason contract..." I began, only to be interrupted by his abrupt dismissal of Amelia's death as an inconvenience.

"Figure out a plan," I snapped, cutting the call and taking a steadying breath.

But there was no respite from the storm of chaos that enveloped me. As the news of my brother Winston's illicit activities reached me, it was like a thunderbolt striking at the very core of our family's values. Anger and disappointment surged within me, eclipsing any personal matters that might have occupied my thoughts. I knew that immediate action was necessary to contain the damage his actions could inflict, not only on our company but on our family's reputation.

 "Damn it," I cursed, the weight of responsibility heavy on my shoulders as I vowed to confront him head-on.

"Turn around, take me to the Forte company," I commanded, my resolve unyielding in the face of adversity.

With determination coursing through my veins, I resolved to confront Winston head-on. There was no time for hesitation or second-guessing; his recklessness demanded swift and decisive action. As the car sped towards the Forte company, my mind buzzed with a mix of emotions – anger at his betrayal, determination to set things right, and a glimmer of hope that he could be made to understand the gravity of his actions. 

"He really needs to know his place," I muttered under my breath, the tension in the car palpable.

Arriving at the company, I stormed past the greetings of employees, my mind singularly focused on the task at hand.

I wasted no time. Every step I took was purposeful, fueled by a fierce determination to hold Winston accountable for his misdeeds. With Sophia steadfastly by my side, I strode forward, my resolve unyielding in the face of whatever challenges awaited. There was no room for doubt or hesitation; I was on a mission to ensure that justice was served and our family's honor restored.

"Sophia, where is he?" I demanded, my voice leaving no room for argument.

"He's inside the conference room," she replied, struggling to keep pace with my determined stride.

I swung open the door, the weight of all eyes in the room instantly fixated on me. With determined strides, I made my way towards Winston, his surprise palpable as I approached.

"Don't sign any document," my command cut through the tension, his smile faltering in the face of my seriousness.

"Why, brother?" he questioned, attempting to mask his unease with a grin.

Without a word, I tore through the document, the audible gasps of those present echoing through the room.

"Don't you dare make any decisions without my approval," I asserted, my voice carrying the weight of authority.

"This meeting and proposal have been officially canceled. No one will sign an illegal contract with this company's name," I declared, leaving no room for debate as I turned to leave, leaving Winston speechless in my wake.

"Brother, please," he pleaded, attempting to appeal to my emotions, but I remained resolute. This time, sentimentality wouldn't sway me. Winston needed to learn the consequences of his actions.

"You messed with the wrong person. Get ready for war," the mafia lord's threat fell on deaf ears as I continued on my path, unfazed by his words.

Sophia trailed behind me, ready to receive any further allegations from Winston, her presence a reassurance in the face of chaos.

"Read my schedule for me," I requested, needing to maintain control amidst the turmoil.

As Sophia listed off my obligations, I felt the weight of each responsibility pressing down on me. But there was no room for weakness, no allowance for vulnerability.

"Cancel the meeting with the BBC," I ordered, dismissing Sophia's protests with a wave of my hand. There were more pressing matters at hand than fame and rumors.

"And cancel the funeral," I added, the words leaving my mouth without a second thought. The loss of Amelia was a blow, but sentiment couldn't interfere with business.

Sophia's shock was palpable, but she quickly acquiesced to my commands as we finally entered my office.

As she handed me the tablet, I scanned the latest sales figures, my mind already whirring with plans to rectify any shortcomings.

"How can we make $980,000 a day?" my demand was met with silence, the staff unable to provide answers.

Finally, a timid voice broke through the tension. "Um... Winston took some of the company's money," the revelation hung in the air, confirming my suspicions.

"I give you thirty minutes to make a sale that will cover all the money he borrowed," I declared, my tone brooking no argument as Sophia set the countdown in motion.

But before any progress could be made, Winston barged into my office, his arrogance on full display as he dared to challenge my authority.

"I've had enough of you. This company is ours," his words were met with a cold stare, my patience worn thin by his antics.

"It's not ours, it's mine, and you follow my orders," I retorted, refusing to yield an inch to his demands.

As he stormed out, I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction, the sales figures on my screen a testament to my unwavering resolve.

But the battle was far from over. With Marc's arrival, the true extent of our predicament became clear, and the need for decisive action grew more pressing by the minute.

"This is a great opportunity for you to get your company to the top. So here's the plan," Marc's words snapped me back to attention, his proposal offering a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

With renewed determination, I focused on the task at hand, ready to confront whatever challenges lay ahead and emerge victorious, no matter the cost.

As I pondered Marc's next move, the increasing sales notifications on my screen only served to reinforce my confidence. "I'm indeed wicked," I thought to myself with a smirk, reveling in the power I held over the company's fortunes.

With each passing moment, I grew more impatient for Marc's arrival, my watch serving as a silent reminder of the urgency of our situation. When he finally entered, his polite greeting was met with a cold indifference as I remained seated, my focus solely on the task at hand.

Without preamble, I delved straight into the heart of the matter, questioning him about the unfamiliar contract and the need for Mr. Manson's scrutiny of our finances. Marc's response only served to deepen the mystery surrounding Winston's actions, but there was little time for speculation.

"The issue is, what are we going to do? She is dead," I confided in him, the weight of Amelia's passing heavy on my conscience.

"Yes, I know. We need a solution. The media must hear about it; otherwise," Marc's words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the potential consequences of our inaction.

As we strategized, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I was somehow complicit in Amelia's demise, a realization that filled me with a profound sense of guilt.

"This is a great opportunity for you to get your company to the top. So here's the plan," Marc's proposal cut through my introspection, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

With renewed determination, I focused on the task ahead, ready to do whatever it took to salvage the company's reputation and secure our future.

As Marc departed, his parting words served as a sobering reminder of the cost of my ambition. "Sorry for your loss," he said, his smirk betraying a sense of detachment that left me questioning my own morality.

In that moment, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of man I had become, willing to sacrifice everything in pursuit of success, even at the expense of those closest to me.