The news that Neil Alberto had been appointed as the new CEO of Alberto Industries spread through the country like a wildfire, scorching every headline and dominating every news cycle. From the glowing screens of Times Square to the quiet breakfast tables of suburbia, only one question echoed Could Neil fill the gargantuan shoes of his father, Leonardo Alberto? Would he elevate the Alberto empire to unprecedented heights, or would this multi-billion-dollar dynasty collapse like a house of cards under the weight of his cold ambition?
In the glass-and-steel monolith that served as the corporate headquarters of Alberto Industries in the heart of Miami, the atmosphere was electric. This was no ordinary Monday. This was the day Neil Alberto was scheduled to take his seat on the throne for the very first time. Though he had not yet set foot in the building, his reputation preceded him like a dark shadow. The corridors were thick with whispers, particularly among the female staff, who had been caught in a whirlwind of curiosity and trepidation since the announcement.
"I heard he was voted the most handsome man in Asia during his time overseas," a receptionist whispered into her friend's ear, her eyes wide with excitement.
"Yeah, but I heard he's as cold as a morgue slab," the other replied, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "They say he's arrogant beyond belief and has a heart made of titanium."
There was one truth about Neil Alberto that few truly grasped: he harbored a visceral, deep-seated hatred for the word 'love.' To Neil, love was not a virtue; it was a catastrophic weakness. It was a parasitic disease that hollowed out a man's resolve and left him a lifeless husk. He had spent years tempering his soul, turning his heart into a fortress of stone. He had made a solemn vow to himself that he would never succumb to the 'sentimental trash' that had led so many powerful men to their ruin.
Outside, a sleek, obsidian-black limousine pulled up to the curb, flanked by two armored SUVs. The sight alone was enough to make the veteran security guards break into a cold sweat. The Chief Security Officer, a man who had seen riots and heists, came sprinting into the lobby, his face flushed.
"Shut it down! Everyone, quiet!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the marble. "He's here! Mr. Alberto demands absolute silence. If you value your paychecks, I want pin-drop silence right now!"
But the office was a hive of activity, and his warning was swallowed by the chaotic hum of hundreds of employees. Many ignored him, lost in their gossip and laughter. The sounds of their merriment pierced through the heavy glass doors, drifting out onto the sidewalk a sound that would soon prove to be their undoing.
The Storm Arrives
The door of the limousine opened, and Neil's loyal right hand and lead bodyguard, Vance, stepped out first. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scanned the perimeter for threats before he reached back and opened the rear door with a stiff, respectful bow.
A polished black Italian leather shoe touched the pavement. Then, Neil Alberto emerged.
He was dressed in a charcoal-gray three-piece suit that fit his muscular, athletic frame with surgical precision. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes, masking a gaze that was rumored to be lethal. He adjusted the bridge of his glasses, radiating an aura of supreme power and absolute arrogance as he began the walk up the stairs toward the main entrance.
As he reached the automatic sliding doors, the cacophony from within hit him like a physical blow. The laughter, the shouting across cubicles, the clinking of coffee mugs—to Neil, it didn't sound like a world-class corporation. it sounded like a chaotic street market.
The vein in Neil's jaw pulsed. He reached up and slowly removed his sunglasses. His eyes, a piercing, icy blue that usually remained as still as a frozen lake, were now burning with the intensity of a forest fire. Vance took one look at Neil's expression and whispered a silent prayer for the souls inside. Today was going to be a massacre.
Neil shoved the doors open and stepped into the lobby.
The moment his presence hit the room, a literal chill seemed to sweep through the air. Laughter died in throats. Conversations were cut short mid-sentence. Within seconds, the vast hall became so silent that the hum of the air conditioning sounded like a roar.
The Senior Manager, Mr. Miller, came scurrying forward, his face pale and slick with perspiration. He clutched a massive bouquet of red roses, his hands shaking so violently that the petals trembled.
"W-welcome, sir!" Miller stammered, thrusting the flowers toward Neil. "Welcome to Alberto Industries. It is a p-privilege to have you.
Before Miller could finish his rehearsed greeting, Neil reached out and snatched the bouquet with a violent jerk. Without a word, he slammed the flowers onto the floor.
Splash.
The expensive roses shattered across the polished marble. Before anyone could breathe, Neil brought his heavy boot down on the blooms, grinding the delicate petals into a brown, unrecognizable sludge.
A collective gasp echoed through the office. The employees watched in horrified silence, their eyes wide. Mr. Miller stood frozen, looking as though he had been turned to stone, unable to even meet Neil's gaze.
Neil let his cold, predatory eyes roam over the entire floor, taking in every face, every desk, every detail. Finally, his gaze snapped back to the trembling manager.
"Is this a multi-billion-dollar office, or is it a zoo?" Neil's voice was low, but it carried the resonant power of a lion's growl.
The manager blinked, his voice failing him. "S-sir?"
"Do you have a hearing impairment?" Neil shouted, his voice now a thunderous roar that shook the very glass of the building. "I asked if this was an office or a zoo!"
Miller's soul seemed to shiver. "It's an o-office, sir!"
"No!" Neil screamed, stepping into Miller's personal space. "This is not an office! This is a kennel filled with animals! You were all barking like dogs! I could hear your pathetic, mindless yapping from outside the car!"
Neil's words were like shards of glass, cutting through the self-respect of every man and woman in that room. Heads bowed in shame. In all their years of service, no one had ever spoken to them with such calculated cruelty. To be called 'dogs' in public was an insult that burned deep. They had broken the rules of discipline, yes, but did they deserve to be stripped of their humanity? These people had given years of loyalty to the Alberto name, and this was their reward.
Neil looked at the crowd once more with pure, unadulterated disgust. He pointed a finger inches from Miller's eyes.
"I want humans in my office, not beasts. Give every single one of them their final paycheck and get them out of my sight. I don't want to see one of these faces in this building ever again. And if I do..." Neil leaned in, whispering into Miller's ear with a voice that promised death, "...then you will never be seen in this world again."
Miller was now drenched in sweat, his knees knocking together.
"And one more thing," Neil added as he turned to leave. "After you've cleared the floor, leave your own resignation letter on my desk. Get out!"
Neil turned and swept out of the room like a dark hurricane, Vance following closely in his wake. Behind them, they left a silence that felt like a funeral. No one could believe what had just happened. In a matter of minutes, hundreds of people had lost their livelihoods. Neil Alberto had shown no mercy, no hesitation. His reign of tyranny had officially begun.
Neil strode toward his private elevator. It was a biometric marvel, keyed only to his fingerprints and retinal scan. No one was permitted to ride with him not even Vance. The doors slid open, Neil stepped inside, and the car began its silent ascent.
Vance stood in the lobby and hit his forehead with his palm. "God help me! I have to take the stairs!"
Vance ripped off his suit jacket and lunged toward the stairwell. He knew the rules. He had to be at the top floor before or at the exact same time as Neil. If he was even a second late, he would be the next victim of Neil's wrath. He poured every ounce of his strength into his legs. Ten flights of stairs. He had less than a minute.
He reached the executive floor gasping for air, his lungs burning. Fortunately, the elevator chimes were just sounding. He straightened his tie, smoothed his hair, and managed to look composed just as the doors slid open.
Neil stepped into his cavernous office and sank into a massive, hand-stitched leather chair. He slammed a folder onto the mahogany desk and looked at Vance.
"Vance!"
"Yes, sir!" Vance stood at military attention.
"Two days. I want this office filled with a new staff within forty-eight hours. And I want the best of the best. No mediocres. No talkers. Only machines in human skin."
Vance's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "S-sir? Two days? For an entire headquarters?"
Neil stared at him as if Vance were speaking a foreign language. "Fine. Forty-eight hours. Is that better?"
"But sir—" Vance started to protest, but the sight of Neil's eyes turning a dangerous shade of red silenced him instantly.
"Understood, sir! It will be done!"
"You're dismissed."
Vance exited the cabin at the speed of a bullet. The moment he was in the hallway, he leaned against the wall and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Is he insane? How am I supposed to staff a whole building in two days? Hiring one or two people is a process, but he just emptied the entire hive! Where am I going to find hundreds of qualified people in forty-eight hours?"
He pulled out his phone, his mind racing. "Well, there's no choice. The job market is tough enough; I'll have to hit every hiring platform and headhunter in the country. This is going to be the longest forty-eight hours of my life."
Downstairs, the atmosphere was tragic. Displaced employees were packing their lives into cardboard boxes. Some were weeping quietly, while others stared at the floor with eyes full of cold fury.
An older clerk, who had been with the company for twenty years, picked up his box and looked at his younger colleague.
"The man is consumed by his own shadow," the old man said, his voice trembling with emotion. "Mark my words, pride always comes before a fall. One day, someone will come along who will shatter that ego and grind his arrogance into the dust. On that day, Neil Alberto will finally learn what it means to be a human being."