Guard of heart

The CEO

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, I stepped into the hushed corridor, the cool air from the AC brushing against my skin. My heels clicked rhythmically against the polished floor, a sharp contrast to the stillness around me. I couldn’t believe how fast the past hour had slipped by, though my mind was racing as I approached Mr. Wilkins' office.

I knocked softly before stepping in. The room was heavy with unspoken tension. Mr. Wilkins sat behind his large mahogany desk, his body upright but his face marked with fatigue. His eyes flicked toward the TV for a moment, where Aby was bent over, adjusting the wiring with a small device. Aby’s quiet focus seemed unaffected by the room’s atmosphere, his presence subdued but strangely solid, as if he was used to being in the background, handling things quietly.

Adrian sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, his posture rigid, hands folded tightly in his lap. The set of his jaw was hard, eyes sharp, but unreadable. Across from him, Allen slouched slightly, attempting to mirror his older brother's stiff formality but failing as his leg bounced restlessly. Every so often, Allen glanced sideways at Aby, then back to his father, as if questioning why the man was even here, fiddling with electronics during such a critical meeting.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wilkins,” I greeted, forcing my voice to remain steady as I gripped my phone tighter in my hand, a small anchor in the rising tension.

Mr. Wilkins nodded slightly, his voice low and strained as he replied, “Afternoon, Elara. How have things been for you these past weeks?”

“Everything’s been fine, sir. The meetings went smoothly, and the Evaoh Wilkins runway event was well received,” I responded, trying to keep my tone professional. My eyes briefly flickered to Adrian, whose gaze was fixed on the desk, then to Allen, who had stopped bouncing his leg just as I spoke. “I hope your recovery is going well.”

He gave a small, tired smile, the corners of his lips barely lifting. “Recovery is slow... but I’ll get there.” His eyes flicked to the notepad in front of him, and the air shifted as he straightened his shoulders, his fingers tracing over the page absentmindedly before he spoke again. “Elara, I want you to understand what’s happening next. Tomorrow, we’ll be addressing the press.”

As he paused, his gaze landed on Adrian, then Allen, as if weighing their reactions. Adrian’s expression remained unflinching, a mask of professionalism, while Allen’s facade cracked slightly, his lips tightening as he glanced again toward Aby, who was now quietly packing away his equipment.

“We need to control the narrative,” Mr. Wilkins continued, his voice growing firmer. “As you know, I’ve served as both Chairman and CEO of Wilkins Enterprises for years. But now, with my age and the injury... it’s time for a shift. I’m stepping back from the CEO position and will remain solely as Chairman.”

He leaned back in his chair, his hand absently running along the armrest, the weight of the decision hanging between all of us. His eyes landed on Adrian next, who still sat perfectly still, his jaw clenched tightly, a muscle flickering near his temple.

“Adrian will be taking over as CEO,” Mr. Wilkins said, his voice firm yet weary. “The media needs to understand that this transition is planned, not rushed because of my injury. We can’t let them think that I’m stepping back because I’m unfit.”

A moment of silence followed. I watched Adrian carefully, noticing the tension in his hands as they gripped the armrests of the chair. His eyes didn’t meet his father’s, but there was something almost bitter in the way his lips pressed together.

Allen’s leg had resumed its bouncing, his fingers tapping lightly against the side of his chair as he tried to hold himself still. I could tell he wanted to interject, but he didn’t. Instead, he shot another glance at Aby, who was adjusting his toolbag, clearly ready to leave but still lingering as if waiting for a cue.

“We’ll position this as a strategic decision,” Mr. Wilkins continued, turning to me now, his gaze steady. “The company is growing, evolving. I’m stepping back not because I have to, but because it’s the right move for the future. The press needs to see Adrian as the natural successor, strong and capable. We need you to make sure that message comes through clearly.”

I nodded, my grip on the phone tightening further as I felt the weight of his words. “Of course, sir. I’ll make sure we control the narrative. But the sudden change... there might be questions. People might assume more than what’s being said.”

Mr. Wilkins’ eyes softened slightly, though the tension in his shoulders remained. “I know. That’s why we have to be careful. I’ll be remaining as Chairman. It’ll look like a normal succession plan, rather than something triggered by my injury. We’ll spin it that way.”

Adrian, who had remained silent throughout, finally spoke, his voice cold and clipped. “And if the media doesn’t buy it? If they dig deeper and realize this wasn’t a plan, but a reaction?” His eyes finally locked with his father’s, the challenge in them unmistakable.

Mr. Wilkins didn’t blink. “That’s why Elara is here,” he said quietly but firmly. “She’ll be working closely with you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Adrian’s gaze flickered to me, the weight of his scrutiny heavy. “We’ll see,” he muttered under his breath, though loud enough for all of us to hear.

“I won’t let you down, sir,” I said, my voice steady, though my heartbeat quickened. I glanced at Allen, who had stopped tapping his fingers, his carefree mask now completely slipping as he leaned forward slightly, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Great,” Aby’s voice broke through suddenly, startling me. He had finished with the TV and was now standing, his toolbag slung over one shoulder. “The TV’s fixed,” he said simply, nodding to Mr. Wilkins.

Mr. Wilkins gave a small nod in return. “Thank you, Aby. I’ll need you to check my laptop next.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly at the interaction. “I thought this was a business meeting,” he said coldly. “Not a tech repair session.”

“This is a family meeting,” Mr. Wilkins corrected sharply. “We take care of everything here.”

Adrian stood abruptly, adjusting his suit jacket with a sharp tug. “If we’re done with the tech talk, I’ll take my leave. Let me know when we’re ready to discuss the actual business.” His eyes slid over Aby without acknowledgment.

Aby’s expression didn’t change. He stood silently, waiting for his next task, while Allen let out a quiet breath, his foot now still.