Aligned

Chapter 1: Estrella

Banging my head repeatedly on my black wooden desk, I couldn't help but delve into introspection, pondering the winding path that had led me to this enigmatic juncture in my life, and how I had metamorphosed into a person I barely recognized.

With mounting frustration, I ripped off the confining, aggravating black heels that had tormented my feet all day, sending them hurtling unceremoniously across my office. Next came my slicked-back high ponytail, a prison of its own, and as I unraveled it, my long brown hair cascaded free, like a symbol of liberation.

I ran my fingers through the tresses, releasing the pent-up tension that had gripped me throughout the arduous day. The relief was palpable, a soothing balm after hours of unyielding stress, for the simple act of letting my hair down carried a profound sense of release, a respite from the ceaseless turmoil that had become my daily existence.

With a subtle shift, I adjusted my desk chair, exposing a concealed compartment secreted beneath my workspace. This was where I stored the liquid gold, the whiskey affectionately known as "Dans," my loyal companion in moments of solitude.

Retrieving the keys to unlock this hidden chamber, I couldn't help but entertain the morbid thoughts that periodically plagued my mind. For, in the depths of my despair, the notion of self-inflicted harm had crossed my mind, but I swiftly diverted my thoughts to the amber liquid that poured into my personalized whiskey glasses. These glasses, with my initials elegantly engraved, had been a gift from my best friend, Astrid, and served as a testament to the fragility of life.

Bourbon was my vice, the way it seared my throat offering both solace and escape. It was the very same elixir that had claimed my uncle Dan, the man who owned the brand that had inadvertently become my legacy. His unwavering dedication to the cause had resulted in a sudden, mysterious demise, an autopsy that revealed an "unfamiliar substance" within his body, a perplexing occurrence that defied explanation.

My unceasing quest for answers had yielded nothing but dead ends, leaving me to commemorate his memory with each swallow of the maple-colored nectar.

Upon his untimely departure, the reins of the family business had fallen to me, the last remaining bearer of our name. As I observed the engraved glasses, I couldn't help but see a pattern of alcoholism that had persisted through generations of my family.

With a sense of longing, I set the glass down on a coaster and turned my chair to face the floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a breathtaking view of the nocturnal cityscape.

My office, situated on the top floor, bestowed upon me the privilege of witnessing the glittering city lights below. Yet, even as I reveled in this commanding view, I couldn't help but be acutely aware of the time – 1:18 am, a lonesome hour that bespoke my solitude. Indeed, I was the last person in the building, a testament to my unwavering dedication to my role as the CEO, a position that came complete with a glass-walled office, allowing my every move to be scrutinized by an ever-watchful workforce.

It irked me that, rather than having them heed my commands, it was I who had to demonstrate unwavering commitment and diligence. The responsibility of leadership was indeed a double-edged sword, one that cut both ways.

As I peered through the windows, I knew that my employees had long departed, likely to join their families and loved ones for dinners and intimate moments. For me, such experiences were mere abstractions.

I remained, the final guardian of this corporate citadel, an embodiment of determination, untethered by the bonds of love or intimacy. I was beholden to my responsibilities, my role, and the relentless expectations of those who watched over my every move. If they believed I would falter, they were sorely mistaken. It was they who should be concerned about my critical gaze, not I about their judgment.