They have replaced the security. My kingdom has been occupied while I slept.
"Where is Frank?" I demand, my voice echoing in the quiet lobby.
Konstantin steps beside me, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back. It could pass for a gentleman's gesture, a partner guiding his associate, but his fingers dig into my waist, a painful reminder of who is in control.
"Frank has been given an early retirement," Konstantin replies casually. "My team handles security now. It’s more efficient."
"Frank has three grandchildren," I say, my voice trembling with rage. "He needs this job."
"Frank was asleep at the monitors half the time," Konstantin counters. "Move."
He pushes me forward with enough force to make me stumble.
We walk past the new guard. He doesn't ask for ID or offer a polite greeting. He watches us with dead, shark-like eyes instead.
Konstantin presses the elevator button.
"You can't fire everyone," I hiss, keeping my voice low so the guards don't hear. "These people have worked for my family for decades. They’re loyal."
"They were loyal to a paycheck," Konstantin corrects. "And you stopped signing those paychecks months ago. I’m doing them a favor. I’m bringing in new management."
The doors slide open, and we step inside.
As they close, sealing us in the metal box, the silence returns, thicker this time.
I watch the numbers climb. 10... 15... 20...
My office is on the top floor. The executive suite.
Konstantin stands in the corner, leaning back against the rail, watching. He isn’t typing on his phone anymore.
The elevator dings. Floor 30.
The doors open.
I take a deep breath. This is the hard part.
The executive floor is an open-plan layout—glass walls, low dividers, usually buzzing with the hum of activity. It’s the nerve center of the company.
I step out, and the hum dies instantly.
It happens in a wave. First, the people closest to the elevator look up, then the silence spreads until the entire floor is dead quiet.
People—analysts, logistics coordinators, sales reps—turn to look at me.
They see me, and then they see him as Konstantin walks out at my heels.
I see the fear in their eyes. They have heard the rumors. They know about the men in the lobby. They know something is wrong.
I lock eyes with Dave, the Operations Manager. He’s a loud, boisterous man who usually greets me with a joke about the football scores.
Today, he looks at me and immediately glances at his keyboard, typing furiously at nothing.
They are all terrified.
And I’m the one bringing the terror in.
I walk toward my office, the click of my heels echoing too loudly on the polished concrete floor.
