"Come on, Martin," Lucia pressed, sensing his hesitation. "You've got to show face at least. Besides, it'll give you a chance to see some of the candidates for yourself. You don't want to leave everything to me, do you?"
With an exasperated sigh, Martin finally relented. "Alright, alright. I'll be there. Just send me the details."
Lucia's victorious laugh echoed through the line. "I knew you'd come around. Horizon Business Complex, second-floor conference room. We'll start in an hour, so don't be late."
"Yeah, yeah," Martin muttered, rolling his eyes as he ended the call.
He tossed the phone back onto the table and stretched, feeling a slight pang of mental fatigue still clinging to the edges of his mind.
This strange energy drain wasn't something he could ignore forever. But for now, he had to put it on the backburner. Lucia was counting on him, and as much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He couldn't stay holed up in the villa forever.
Martin quickly cleaned up, throwing on a fresh set of clothes. As he grabbed his keys and prepared to leave, he made a mental note to explore the limits of this new energy soon—before it became a problem he couldn't control.
For now, though, it was time to play the role of Chairman once again.
---
The head butler drove Martin through the winding streets of the city and into the underground parking lot of the Horizon Business Complex, Building C.
The cold, industrial lights reflected off the polished floor as the sleek car glided through the space, finally coming to a halt.
Building C was designated for fledgling business ventures, and its modern architecture exuded a sharp, ambitious energy that felt almost palpable in the air.
As Martin stepped out, the head butler gave him a respectful nod and drove off, leaving him alone in the crisp, cool atmosphere.
Martin took a deep breath, straightened his suit, and made his way toward the elevator that would take him to the 7th floor—the entire level that Lucia had rented for their company.
The floor was outfitted with cubicles, private offices, a large conference room, and a lounge area, all designed to accommodate the growing team they hoped to build in the coming months.
As Martin reached the 7th floor, he could already hear the faint murmur of voices—not the professional hum of business dealings, but something far more discordant. He frowned, his ears twitching slightly as he picked up fragments of conversation.
"Who does she think she's fooling?" one voice sneered. "This company's dead before it even starts."
"I don't even know why I'm here," another voice chimed in, dripping with malice. "This whole thing is just a vanity project."
Amidst the complaints and snide remarks, Martin caught Lucia's young but steady voice, trying to mediate and hold the situation together.
The more he listened, the more he felt the rising tide of anger building inside him. He hadn't arrived late, but he had clearly underestimated the arrogance of the rich second-generation heirs that surrounded Lucia.
Martin's jaw tightened as he stood in the hallway, listening to the conversation unfold.
Lucia was clearly under pressure, dealing with people who were only here because of their family names and the weight those names carried in the investment world.
They weren't interested in pure talent or ambition. No, they were more concerned with the prestige of associating with the Cross family name.
"Investing in a new company is always a gamble," one of them drawled, "but we're not here to gamble, Lucia. We're here because of you and your connections. Don't pretend this is some great business opportunity—we all know why we're really here."
Martin clenched his fists at that.
These people weren't interested in the company's success—they were investing in Lucia, not because they believed in her or the vision of the company, but because of the power and influence her family held.
More voices chimed in, some subtly criticizing the missing chairman, others outright questioning Martin's qualifications without knowing who he was.
They raised points—some valid, others petty—but all of them carried an air of superiority that rubbed Martin the wrong way.
The finance and investment markets were indeed deep and bloody, but that didn't mean they were impenetrable to those with pure ambition and raw talent.
Martin had enough of their condescending attitudes. His mind was made up.
He wasn't interested in hiring second-hand loyalties or employees who would place their personal motives or family agendas above the company's future.
With his decision firm, Martin finally stepped forward. He walked through the entrance of the lounge with an air of confidence that he hadn't exhibited before.
Gone was the reserved temperament of the failed salesperson he had once been. In its place was the sharp, focused energy of someone who knew exactly what they wanted—and who had the power to achieve it.
The room plunged into silence as soon as Martin entered. Eyes turned toward him, some curious, others wary. His presence alone seemed to have commanded attention.
If anyone stood too close in his path, they quickly moved aside—and those who didn't were unceremoniously bumped out of his way as Martin strode past them without a word.
His eyes locked onto Lucia, who had been in the midst of fending off the complaints. Without breaking stride, Martin glanced at her and gave a curt nod.
"Follow me," he said, his voice firm but quiet. Lucia didn't hesitate, though Martin noticed the flicker of nervousness in her expression. It wasn't fear—it was more like irritation, and a little bit of guilt. After all, this was the scene that had awaited Martin at her request.
Once they were inside the Chairman's private office, Martin closed the door behind them and turned to face Lucia, his tone sharper than usual.
"This," he said, gesturing toward the lounge outside, "this is what you call fresh blood? Pure talent?"
Lucia blinked, her irritation rising. "Martin, you don't understand—"
"No," Martin interrupted, his voice cutting.
"I don't think you understand. I don't want anyone here with second loyalties. I don't want people whose first priority is their family's interests. And I especially don't want people who think they can walk into this company and dictate how things are run."
Lucia crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "You think I don't know that? Look, I didn't just pick the best of these wealthy brats. I also scouted the ones that were neglected by their families, the ones who have something to prove."
Martin paused, considering her words. Slowly, he began to calm down, though his expression remained intense. He could tell that Lucia had put thought into this—more than he had realized.
After a long pause, Martin finally sighed. "Alright, let's see this through," he said, his tone softening. "But no more handouts. We need people who will be loyal to us, not to their family names."
Lucia nodded, her posture relaxing. "Agreed."
Together, they left the office and headed to the conference room where the interviews were set to begin.
For the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon, they sat through tens of interviews, listening to candidate after candidate present themselves.
Martin remained expressionless throughout, jotting down notes in his small notepad. No one knew what he wrote, and no one dared to ask.
As the clock struck 2:00 PM, the final interview concluded. Both Martin and Lucia were exhausted, piles of resumes and paperwork scattered on the desk in front of them.
Martin finally cracked a smile, leaning back in his chair. "We need a secretary," he said, half-joking, half-serious.
Lucia chuckled, though the weariness in her voice was undeniable. "Tell me about it."
Lucia hesitated as she glanced over at Martin, his once sharp and focused expression now softening as the exhaustion of the day set in.
She bit her lip, her hands nervously fidgeting with the papers in front of her.
She had been thinking about this for a while but didn't know the right moment to bring it up. Now, with the interviews behind them and Martin's mood seemingly relaxed, she figured this might be her only chance.
Clearing her throat, she spoke carefully. "Martin, there's... something I wanted to ask you."
Martin looked up from his notepad, his brow raised in curiosity. "What is it?"
Lucia hesitated again, her fingers playing with the edge of the table. "It's about my mother," she began, her tone almost sheepish. "She's been asking me to bring you over for dinner. You know, a more... formal introduction."
Martin blinked, taken aback by the request. It wasn't exactly what he expected after a long day of grueling interviews.
Dinner with Lucia's family? He didn't know much about the Cross family, aside from the fact that they were wealthy, well-connected, and influential in multiple industries.
Socializing with them would certainly be a step into a world he wasn't entirely familiar with, but it also wasn't something he could avoid forever.
"Your mother?" Martin repeated, as if weighing the idea. He could see Lucia's nervousness, and it made him wonder what kind of dynamics lay beneath the surface of her seemingly strong and confident exterior.
"Yeah," Lucia said, flashing him a tight smile. "She... well, she's pretty insistent. And I think she just wants to know who I'm working with. You know, her way of making sure I'm not... messing things up."