Lost in madness

38

Andrew

I sat at the head of the table, surrounded by expectant faces. The boardroom hummed with quiet energy, but I felt strangely detached from it all.

My mind wandered, unable to focus on the supposedly crucial discussion around me. This was meant to be my moment of triumph, the culmination of years of relentless work and sacrifice. I had finally reached the pinnacle, proving to my father—and myself—that I was more than just his illegitimate son.

But as I gazed at the board members, their voices a distant murmur, I couldn't shake the emptiness gnawing at my core. Why had I fought so hard to be in this room? The answer that once burned bright within me now felt like nothing more than a dying ember.

"Mr. Chairman? Your thoughts on the proposal?"

The voice jolted me back to reality. I blinked, focusing on our CFO, Jessica Hartley. She looked at me with concern, probably wondering if I even wanted to be here. To be honest, I was starting to wonder myself.

I cleared my throat, buying time to gather my scattered thoughts. "The proposal seems... sound." Sound? Who even says that? I steadied my voice, trying to project confidence I didn't feel. "However, I'd like to review the financial projections in more detail before we make a decision. Let's reconvene next month to discuss further."

Nods and murmurs of agreement followed. I glanced at my watch, relieved we'd reached the end of our allotted time.

"If there's nothing else, we can wrap up for today," I said, standing. "Thank you all for your time and input."

The board members filed out, some offering congratulations as they passed. I nodded and smiled mechanically, barely registering their praise. As the last person left, I remained standing, gripping the back of my chair and staring out the windows at the city skyline.

I don't know how long I stood there before finally heading to my office. The space felt cavernous and impersonal, despite the expensive furniture and carefully chosen art. I walked to the bar cart and poured myself some scotch, the amber liquid gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

Drink in hand, I sank into a leather chair facing my desk. I leaned back, staring at the ceiling as I sipped the scotch, savoring its burn.

I looked around my lavish office, contemplating my new power as Chairman, and remembered the years of relentless work and heartaches that got me here. Yet sitting alone in this room that felt more like a mausoleum than a symbol of success...

The soft click of the door barely registered. My secretary, Margaret, entered silently, placed a file on my desk, and left without a word. I appreciated her discretion, even as I wondered what urgent matter now demanded my attention.

I had just closed my eyes, trying to will away my growing headache, when another knock came. This time, I didn't respond out of sheer irritation. The door opened anyway.

"Well, well," came the familiar voice, tinged with amusement. "If it isn't the man of the hour, Mr. Chairman."

I opened my eyes to see my brother, James, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Congratulations, little brother," James continued, sauntering in. "You've finally done it. You've made father proud."

I snorted, taking another sip. "I'm not sure he's capable of being proud."

"I don't know about you, but I'm still his favorite disappointment."

"Here to gloat?" I muttered.

James chuckled and then studied me with a furrowed brow before pouring himself a drink. "What's with the face, brother?" he observed, his tone softening. "You should be celebrating, I know how hard you fought to be here." He raised his glass to me before gulping it down. "To my dutiful brother."