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Sebastian thinks for a long time. “I saw a lot of good people struggling out there,” he replies, his voice low and contemplative. “And I realized I could use what I was given in life to do good things, to help. I started a few charities and NPOs that are still going today.”

I blink at him. That is not the answer I was expecting. Suddenly, the walls he’s built around himself feel like they're thinning, and for a second, I see the man, not the COO.

The air between us shifts, growing heavy with the weight of the intimate details we just shared. For a heartbeat, Sebastian’s gaze lingers on mine, and there’s a magnetic pull there, a dangerous recognition that we aren't as different as I want to believe.

Then he shakes his head, and as if a switch were flipped, the warmth vanishes. His posture becomes stiff, rigid, resuming the corporate look I know so well. The vulnerable Sebastian is gone, replaced by the impenetrable Ice King.

“Right,” he says, his voice once again clipped and professional. “I believe we’ve spent enough time on humanizing exercises. We should review the specific talking points for the interview before we head back.”

I stiffen, my own walls going back up so hard, it almost hurts. I reach for my tablet, masking my discomfort by swiping at it furiously.

The moment of connection we shared is gone, buried under the burden of expectations and the cold reality of the enormous job we have in front of us.

We aren't two people sharing life stories anymore. We’re a COO and a consultant, and the distance between us feels the widest it’s ever been.

14

SEBASTIAN

Just like last time, the studio lights are hot and unforgiving. But unlike last time, I don’t feel like I’m under a microscope.

Across from me sits the interviewer, a woman whose entire career has been built on extracting tears from the powerful. She tilts her head, her voice dropping into a practiced register.

“Mr. King,” she says, leaning in. “Many see King Corp as a monolith, cold and unyielding, and this scandal has only made that worse. In an earlier interview, you talked about examining your faults and finding a new way forward. But how does our audience—how do your employees—know that isn’t just lip service?”

My head and body are turned toward the interviewer, but my gaze falls over her shoulder, where Isabella stands in the studio wings. She’s wearing a tailored black suit that screams authority, her arms crossed, her expression inscrutable to everyone but me.

Same as during the last interview, she gives a small, almost imperceptible nod of silent encouragement.

“My grandfather and father built this corporation,” I reply, my voice steady. “But this company would not be what it is without the people who work here, who helped build it from the ground up. It would not be what it is without the hard work of all our current employees. One man, no matter the title, does not make a corporation. I can give myself whatever title I want, but at the end of the day, if it’s just me, I don’t have anything.”

“Again, Mr. King, saying that is all well and good, but saying something and creating meaningful action out of it are two entirely different things.”

“Historically, King Corp has looked at its employees as entries in a ledger. But we’re not going to do that anymore.”

I lean forward, and so does the interviewer. There’s a shift in the air. This isn’t the rehearsed PR word vomit I used to spew; this is real.

Thanks to Isabella.

“I want a company where a junior analyst isn’t afraid to pitch a disruptive idea to a VP. I want a culture where we invest in human capital as much as we do in venture capital. I want our success measured not by the stock price alone, but by whether the people who work for me feel they’re part of a legacy, not just a company. I want to ensure the world knows I care about this company, that I care about the hands that built it and continue to show up every day. And I’m going to make sure they’re taken care of.”

I see Isabella nodding out of the corner of my eye, a soft, warm curve to her mouth that provides a different kind of heat than the lights.

“Still just words, Mr. King.”

My attention snaps back to the interviewer. “I know they’re just words right now. We all know the adage ‘actions speak louder than words,’ and my actions going forward will prove they aren’t just words. They are a pledge that we’re going to figure this out, that I’m going to make sure they’re taken care of, and that we’re going to build something great together.”

I don’t remember much about the rest of the interview. But I do remember the way the brightness in Isabella’s eyes grew until they looked like golden honey, bright and warm.

When the producer gives the all-clear, I wait until the sound equipment is disabled before heading to the one spot I want to go.

Isabella is speaking with the interviewer across the soundstage. They both look up as I approach, both smiling at me. The interviewer extends her hand, giving me a firm handshake. “Good speaking with you, Mr. King. I’ll be watching King Corp with optimistic anticipation.”

“That was amazing, Sebastian. Even better than I hoped for. The way you handled that was masterful,” Isabella says after the reporter walks away.

A strange, foreign heat blooms in my chest. It’s not the usual rush I feel after a successful moment.

“It’s because you stopped performing and started being a real leader.” She nudges my arm with her shoulder, giving me a sly smile. “You turned into a real boy today.”