A Heart on Ice

ETHAN

I get off the elevator in confident and purposeful strides, nodding in acknowledgment to the employees who greet me.

They quickly dissolve their clusters when they see me approaching and I pretend not to notice the fact that they were loitering around, doing nothing. It's a beautiful Monday morning and I don't want to get upset this early into the day.

Getting into my office, I sink into my chair and observe my surroundings. The sleek, modern space is proof of my undeniable accomplishment in the business world.

The polished marble floors reflect the sharp edges of my meticulously arranged desk, where I sit like a king surveying his kingdom. I am Ethan Blackwood – a name that strikes fear into the hearts of my competitors and awe into the minds of my employees.

My reputation for ruthlessness in the business society is well-deserved. I didn't become one of the wealthiest and most influential men by being soft-hearted or lenient. My empire was built on ambition, cunning, and the ability to make tough decisions without batting an eye.

As the morning sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I fixate on the financial reports spread before me, carefully scrutinizing every single detail. My eyes narrow as I see a dip in the quarterly earnings of one of my companies.

The numbers don't lie, and neither does my intuition. Someone isn't pulling their weight, and they'll pay the price.

I summon my executive assistant, Luna, with a sharp press of a button on my desk intercom. She enters promptly, her face the picture of efficiency and professionalism.

"Sir, you called?" she asks, her voice unwavering.

"Luna, pull up the performance evaluations for the past year," I command, my tone leaving no room for argument.

She complies with practiced ease, and the data appears on the large screen behind me. I scrutinize each employee's name, their accomplishments, and any shortcomings. I've always believed in rewarding success and weeding out failure without mercy.

My employees know the stakes – perform, or you're out.

As I go through the evaluations, I note a pattern of subpar results from one of my senior managers, Nathan. His division has consistently underperformed, dragging down the company's overall profitability. A spark of anger ignites within me. He's been warned severely and I've given him countless opportunities to improve, but it seems like he's content with mediocrity.

"Luna, get Nathan into my office immediately," I order, my jaw clenched.

Without hesitation, she nods and leaves to fetch him. I can feel the tension building, and the anticipation of confrontation fuels my rage. The world may see me as cold-hearted, but I see it as a necessity.

In business, sentimentality is a weakness that can be exploited by rivals and enemies.

When Nathan enters my office, he seems nervous, and beads of sweat dot his forehead. I motion for him to take a seat, and he does so, his eyes darting around the room, avoiding direct eye contact.

"I'm afraid I have grave concerns about your performance," I say sternly, wasting no time in getting to the point.

He stammers, attempting to defend himself, but I cut him off. "I've given you ample opportunities to turn things around, but you've failed to deliver time and time again. I can't afford to have under-performers on my team."

His face pales, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He knows what's coming next, and it's not going to be pleasant.

"I'm afraid we have to part ways, Nathan," I say coldly. "Consider this your termination notice."

Shock and disbelief flash across his face, quickly replaced by anger. "You can't do this! I've given my all to this company!"

I lean back in my chair, my expression stoic. "Your all hasn't been enough. This is a business, and I need results. You've failed to deliver, and now you have to face the consequences."

He stands, his fists clenched. "You'll regret this, Mr. Blackwood. You can't treat people like this forever."

A small smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. "Coming from a liability. We'll see about that. Now, leave my office."

With a final glare, he storms out, slamming the door behind him. I take a deep breath, feeling a mix of satisfaction and emptiness. These moments remind me that I can't let emotions cloud my judgment. Business is a battlefield, and I'm always prepared to make the tough calls.

As the day progresses, the news of Nathan's termination spreads like wildfire through the office. When I walk in the hallway, I pretend not to notice the worried glances.

The employees exchange hushed whispers, fearing that they might be the next targets of my cruel decisions.

They should be worried.

In my world, complacency is akin to a death sentence for your career.

The day draws to a close, and I prepare to leave for the evening, my mind already planning for tomorrow's challenges. But just as I'm about to exit my office, Luna appears with a hesitant expression.

"Sir, there's someone here to see you," she says, her voice softer than usual.

I raise an eyebrow, not expecting any visitors at this hour. "Who is it?"

She takes a deep breath before answering, "It's Audrey."

My heart skips a beat, but I refuse to think of why she has suddenly shown up at my workplace. Maybe this is one of her attempts to lure me back into her nest.

Well, I hate to break it to her but that's not happening. Audrey and I barely talk to each other, and our relationship is strained, to say the least.

“Send her away. I'm busy.”

“But...”

“I don't pay you to question my orders.”

Without another word, Luna nods and trots out. I'm not in the mood for Audrey’s shenanigans at the moment.

As I scan through the reports laid out on my desk, Luna buzzes in, interrupting me again.

"Mr. Blackwood, there's an urgent matter that requires your attention," she says in her usual composed tone.

"What is it?" I reply, my eyes never leaving the financial statements before me.

"There's a charity event tonight, and they've been expecting your presence. The organizers insist that your attendance will make a significant impact on the fundraising efforts."

I sigh internally. Charity events are not my idea of a good time, but my public image needs to be polished occasionally. Being a billionaire comes with responsibilities, after all.

"Fine, arrange for my attendance. But make it brief," I instruct Luna.

As the day progresses, my mind keeps drifting to the evening's event, a lavish affair in a grand ballroom filled with the city's elite. I consider canceling, but a tiny voice in my head reminds me that sometimes it's essential to play the part.

By the time evening descends, I've ditched my work suit for a tailored tuxedo, exhibiting the epitome of elegance. The grand ballroom is alive with laughter and music as guests mingle, champagne glasses clinking together in celebration. I feel like a fish out of water, but I'm no stranger to hiding my discomfort behind a mask of poise.

I navigate through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with fellow businessmen and society's most influential figures. But my mind remains preoccupied with the never-ending stream of numbers and projections that usually consume my thoughts.

As the night wears on, I find myself at the bar, nursing a glass of scotch. I'm ready to make my exit when Brad, my best friend since college, makes a grand entrance.

"Glad you finally made it. I was just about ready to get the hell out of here" I breathe, patting him on the back.

Brad grins in a manner that showcases his perfect dentition. With his sandy blonde hair and coffee-brown eyes, he manages the get the ladies without much effort. We're polar opposites but we complement each other so well. We've had each other’s backs since the first time I met him.

"Yeah, sorry I'm a bit late. Traffic was horrendous. But no worries, man. Let's grab another drink. You look like you could use one."

He orders two glasses of champagne, and I gratefully accept the flute he hands me. The bubbles dance in the glass, mirroring the excitement in the room. But for me, it feels more like a swirling vortex of pretense and artificial smiles.

"So, how's life treating you?" Brad asked, leaning against the bar.

I take a sip of my champagne, trying to come up with something positive to say. "Oh, you know, the usual. Work's busy, but that's nothing new."

He nods, taking a sip of his own drink. "Yeah, I hear you. Speaking of work, have you seen some of the people here? It's like a networking frenzy."

I follow Brad's gaze, scanning the room once more. There they are, clusters of suited figures, shaking hands and exchanging business cards like they're passing around playing cards. Their conversations are filled with buzzwords and deals, but it all seems so empty to me. I don't need to do all of that to be better than all of them put together.

"Yeah, they certainly know how to work a room," I reply, my voice tinged with disinterest.

Brad notices my lackluster response and raises an eyebrow. "You're not a fan of these events, huh?"

I sigh, relieved that he can tell how I truly feel. "Honestly, no. I mean, it's great to catch up with friends and all, but kissing the asses of people you dislike just to look good... it's just not my scene."

Brad chuckles and clinks his glass against mine. "Here's to being introverts in an extroverted world," he says with a wink.

I throw my head back in laughter, grateful for his understanding. "Cheers to that.”