The room was quiet.
So hushed that Arthur could hear his own heartbeat. He could even hear distant drum thudding in his ears.
In the vast office, which was less of a workplace than a meticulously designed dominion, he stood at the threshold.
It sprawled like a monochrome dream. Everything, from the soft, textured walls to the glistening edges of the sprawling furniture, was in stark black and white.
The place was totally colourless. Even the shiny marble floor mirrored the dull light coming through the huge windows.
It looked great, but it also felt kind of creepy and empty – like a graveyard for big dreams.
Arthur stepped ahead, his shoes clicking on the marble polished floor.
The boss was across the room, sitting behind this huge mahogany desk. It looked like something you'd see in a palace.
Totally out of the place.
Her back was to him.
The skyline was just beginning to fade into the pale glow of dawn, or perhaps dusk, as she sat still, perfectly still, as though she were a statue carved into the air itself, watching the silent city burn through the glass.
Time did not exist in this place. Only control did.
"Boss... you called?" Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped closer, but there was silence, too much silence.
Arthur swallowed hard. In the room the chill was not just caused by the air conditioning, but by something older, colder, something that was both human and unhuman at the same time.
Then the voice came.
Calm, Female, Ethereal, as soft as silk and as sharp as glass. "Are you going to pay with money, or with yourself?"
Arthur froze, the words cut through the air like a razor.
"W-what?" he blinked, unable to believe what he had just heard.
"That is what you owe me." The figure spoke.
Her tone didn't rise. There was no heat. No sarcasm. Just words. Simple. Surgical. Weighted.
"I-I don't, I mean, I-I don't understand what you mean?" Arthur stammered, taking another step forward, one hand resting on the smooth edge of the desk, as she finally stirred just slightly, tilting her head, still away from him.
"It's the presentation you were supposed to give this morning at 7:00 AM, a pitch that was expected to generate a minimum of 100 million dollars in external investment, the one we had been working on for three months. That one."
Now her voice was slower, methodical, each syllable was positioned like a chess piece, not accusing, just stating, which made it worse.
Arthur's breath hitched, his skin went cold, the pieces of the puzzle slammed into place.
Last night, the after-party, the drinks, the women, the hours he lost track of, the blackout sleep. All came into one place.
"I-I can still salvage it, I swear, give me another chance, I'll-" he stumbled over his words, desperation rising in his throat.
"The deal is already gone." She said, turning her chair slightly, smoothly now.
"I-I don't have that much m-money." His voice cracked, he was panicked, his chest tingling with smoke.
"You think I care?" She said, not mocking him, just surprised by his naivety.
Arthur trembled, "Boss, please, I-I will work for free, for life, no salary, nothing. You don't even have to face me at all."
Her chair creaked as she stood, and the room became even colder as she rose.
Arthur's eyes widened when she stepped out of behind the mahogany desk with such unhurried grace that time seemed irrelevant to her.
Every inch of her radiated command, not the kind you shouted for, but the kind you owned in silence.
With sharp shoulders and a clean cut, she wore a tailored black blazer, under it, a sheer black lace bodysuit with a plunging neckline added a hint of danger to the elegance.
Inked shadows traced over her skin as delicate patterns traced her form, and the high waisted black trousers molded perfectly to her shape, structured and refined, creating a striking silhouette that moved like flowing steel.
With sleek, classic black stilettos that made no effort to hide their power, her heels clicked softly as she approached. Gold accents glinted subtly on her fingers and ears, with just enough jewelry to remind you of whose wealth, influence, and power she possessed.
Her beauty was arresting, but not delicate. It was sharp, sculpted, her almond-shaped eyes were piercing beneath bold, perfectly shaped eyebrows.
Full lips painted in a deep matte hue curled with no emotion, only cool calculation. Her skin was as smooth, flawless, as if untouched by time or stress.
Her long jet-black hair was parted precisely across the middle, falling sleekly past her shoulders and swaying slightly as she moved.
Not a strand out of place, she embodied everything that the office surrounding her symbolized, black and white, elegant and severe, alluring and untouchable.
Her face had no fury, no sneer, no contempt, just a terrifying expression of stillness that told you a decision had already been made. That you were already judged.
Her presence swallowed up the space between them like a void, Arthur stumbled backward instinctively, but her hand moved too fast, as she grabbed him by his collar and slammed him into the desk in a single, practiced motion.
In a hollow crack, his skull hit the wood, his vision spun, then the knife appeared under the pristine office lights, small, clean, elegant, deadly, gleaming under the pristine office lights.
"I could rip you apart right now," she said, her voice like velvet dragged over cracked glass. "No one would know, no one would care."
He whimpered, barely able to breathe, sweat trickling down his face in rivers, the tip of the blade piercing his neck just enough to pierce skin, a thin line of blood trickled down, soaking into the collar of his shirt.
The way her voice never rose, it never needed to. It was calm, absolute, the kind of voice that stopped conversations when she entered a room, the kind that made men with empires feel small.
"I could sell your organs and make more than your lifetime of free labor." She whispered.
Suddenly, Arthur's limbs trembled violently. His body had betrayed him, slumped in fear, eyes wide, throat dry, soul crawling up to escape, "P-please, p-please, d-don't," he sobbed.
She leaned closer, her face inches from his, her eyes twin razors locked onto his, "So..." she whispered, eyes unwavering, "What it's going to be....you? Or the money?"
And then the silence fell. Because he knew there was no choice to begin with.
When he still could not answer, she allowed him some time.
"I'll count to ten" her breath was steady.
"Make your choice." She added.
"Ten."
Arthur's mind shattered.
"Nine."
His vision blurred.
"Eight."
He couldn't move.
"Seven."
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Six - Five."
"I-" he tried to speak, but couldn't.
"Three."
"Two."
He then screamed, "Please, I-I-I can't."
The door behind them opened soundlessly, two men stepped in, dressed in all black, expressionless as shadows, disciplined as hounds on a leash.
"Take him to the yard." She said flatly, turning her back on Arthur like he had not existed there anymore.
The two men obeyed, Arthur fought, screamed, cried, but it didn't help.
Their shoes scraped across the polished floor as they dragged him out like a rag doll, leaving only a smear of red from his neck and his mistake, and the boss stood still.
Once again staring at the skyline through the window, her lace sleeved arms folded with perfect poise. She didn't need to punish with rage.
Silence was her rule.
And when people crossed her-
They were erased without any trace.
An Hour Later
Despite the softening of the sharp edges of the towering bookshelves, a spotless marble floor, and the warm lines of the furniture, the large black and white office still felt sterile, pristine, and untouched by emotion, just like the woman who ruled it. The afternoon light filled the vast office like liquid silver.
Suzzanne Gutierrez sat at her desk, an elegant figure of dark precision, her fingers moving fluidly across the keyboard of her jet black laptop, the only sound being the faint tapping of keys.
The untouched espresso resting beside her, steam long gone, ignored like everything else that had failed to achieve its purpose.
Her expression was unreadable, focused, composed, then, suddenly—
BANG!
The office doors burst open with a sharp clang, breaking the stillness of the room with a loud echo. A man's voice echoed across the cold expanse, "How could you do that?"
Suzzanne didn't move, didn't look up, her hands continued moving on the keys, as if nothing had happened.
The man sped ahead—those beaten and worn brown leather shoes practically slapped the floor with every step.
Mid forties? Maybe, although life surely added a few more years, seeing the tiredness in the crow's feet was self explanatory, though nah, he wasn't dazed.
His gray suit was disarrayed, as if it had recently been captured in a tornado, while the light blue dress shirt? Duller than the rest blue.
His tie? Eagerly ascended to freedom. His overall demeanor, or rather, the overall feeling he gave off, seemed to answer the unasked question of "Has he been through a lot?"
In that moment, he was more on the edge of a snap than anything. "Suzzanne, seriously? You can't do that. Not here. Not with half the damn world watching you!" he said, while clearly perplexed.
And with that, he seemed to be in a hurry to get to the next point, since he was talking with what sounded like a trail of panic in his voice.
Still no response, as if she didn't hear him, as if he were only a passing breeze disturbing the surface of a frozen lake.
He walked further, now just a few feet away from her mahogany desk. He breathed heavily with agitation. "He's a poor man, he doesn't deserve this, whatever happened, he didn't deserve that, you're going too far."
Still, nothing, Maximiliano's voice cracked now, "I'm disappointed in you, Suzzanne, I really am!" he said, his words drifting through the air like fragile glass, fragile and on the brink of breaking, he had rushed here as soon as he heard, just minutes ago, whispers about screams, Arthur.
He hadn't wanted to believe it, but knowing Suzzanne, he had to come. Had to try, but now.
Standing before her, he realized he might have made a grave mistake, the only sound was the deliberate, slow click of her keyboard.
When it stopped, Suzzanne lifted her gaze at last, her obsidian eyes meeting his, still, as if they were carved from the darkness itself, "Is it possible that you donate yourself to me?"
Maximiliano blinked.
"W-what?" He choked, confused, off guard.
"I promise," she continued, resting her chin on her hand, "I'll let him go. In exchange for you."
He stared at her, stunned. Frozen.
"You're in excellent shape. Good vitals. No major medical concerns. With your blood type, I imagine you'd sell for quite a bit in some of our private markets."
Maximiliano's lips parted, her words came so casually, so precisely, it was like listening to a surgeon calmly discuss the steps of an operation.
"Y-you, you can't be serious!" Maximiliano utthered, but as he looked into her eyes he knew how dead serious she was, those eyes held no empathy, no mercy, no doubt, just cold, quiet power. Maximiliano staggered backward, his heart pounding loudly.
He had come here to speak, to reason with her, confront her, to stand up for what was right, some basic human rights, but now there he was, shaking, drenched in sweat, and with a lump thick in his throat as she stared at him.
Despite knowing that this would happen, he regretted coming here, regretted speaking, "I-I.." he tried to form words, but they didn't come, his mouth opened and closed like a man drowning in air.
"Send Miss Dias in on your way out."
Suzzanne said flatly, returning her gaze back to her laptop.
As Maximiliano left, his legs trembled slightly as his pulse pounded in his ears, every step away from her desk felt like salvation, but it wasn't.
He knew it wasn't.
He opened the door quietly this time, closing it behind him carefully as he left, a bead of sweat trickled down his temples.
Inside her office, Suzzanne remained perfectly poised, still working, still calm, still in command.
Suzzanne Gutierrez, heiress to Gutierrez & Co, a multinational empire she had ruled for five consecutive years with an iron will cloaked in silk.
She didn't ask for loyalty, but demanded it.
She didn't tolerate mistakes, and those who defied her soon realized.
Mercy was not her thing.
Author's Note
Greetings everyone!
It has been some time since we last connected:/
Though I may be late, I am here now!
The story has finally been released<3
Please ensure you read it with joy<3