Cracking the CEO

“Mr. Koo, they’re ready for you,” the girl at the front desk said.

Asher didn’t look at her right away. He stood beside the glass wall of the Atherton office, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets as he watched a hawk circle lazily above the skyscrapers. The city stretched beneath him, all glass, steel, and restless movement.

He was a big man, built with heavy shoulders and a solid chest that filled out his charcoal suit without even trying. His cornrows were pulled back tight, every braid was neat and clean, ending in a low fade, that made his jaw look more defined.

“Thanks, Sarah,” Asher said. His voice was a low rumble.

He pushed open the heavy oak doors of the conference room.

“Two years, Asher,” Mrs. Dora said before he even sat down. “Two years of stalling. Two years of us moving dates and apologizing to distributors. Do you have any idea what that cost us?”

Asher sat down and let his hands rest on the table. “I know.”

“You know?” Mr. King barked, slamming his hand down. “This isn’t a hobby, Asher. This is a business. We have a fall catalogue with a hole the size of a crater where your name belongs.”

Timmy, Asher’s best friend and agent, stared at his lap. He looked like he’d already spent the morning taking bullets for Asher.

“Your name clears billions,” Mrs. Dora snapped. “But the board is twitching. They want to know why the golden man stopped writing.”

Asher let the silence hang. “I won’t put out garbage. If I put out a book just to hit a date, the readers will know. They’ll feel the lie. Once that trust is gone, the money goes with it. You wait, and you’ll get something they’ll still be reading in fifty years.”

“So what’s the holdup?” Mrs. Dora asked. “What are you missing?”

“A subject,” Asher replied. “Someone who doesn't crack. Someone who lives behind a wall so high nobody’s ever seen over it.”

Timmy looked up. “Sounds like a ghost story, Asher. That’s cold.”

Asher’s mouth twisted into a small, jagged grin.

“Find your ghost fast,” Mrs. Dora said.

Asher stood. Mr. King cleared his throat. “Who’s in charge of the deadline? You or us?”

Asher turned his head slowly. “Listen. People don't buy my books because of a date on a calendar. They buy them because my name is on the cover. My reputation built this building. I decide the date because I’m the one who has to live with the words. We’re done here!”

Across the city in Atherton, Nia Banks ended a man’s career without blinking.

“You’re done. Get out,” Nia said.

The accountant’s face went white. “Ma’am? It was one mistake on the manifest.”

Nia stood up, dressed in white silk that made her look every bit as sharp as the woman wearing it. Her hair was pulled back into a bun so tight it looked painful, not a single strand out of place.

“You misfiled the report,” she said. Her voice was like a blade hitting ice. “Then you tried to hide it behind your assistant. In this office, a small lie is a sign of big rot. I don't deal with liars. When you work with me, I want you to be honest, even if the truth is ugly. A mistake can be fixed. A lie is a choice. I don't have time for people who choose to be cowards.”

“I’ve been here since the start!” the man yelled.

Nia tilted her head. “Do I look like I care? Anyone, and I mean anyone, is replaceable! You should have known better than anyone that I don't give second chances to snakes. Security is already at your desk. Move! Now!”

She turned to the rest of the board. The room was deathly quiet. “Does anyone else have a story to tell me? Or are we going to actually look at the numbers?”

No one moved.

“Good. Meeting over!”

(NOW PLAYING; “YOU BROKE ME FIRST” BY TATE McRae)

Asher drove back to his Atherton mansion, in a daze. He had stopped at the florist on the way home, picking up a bouquet of white peonies, Tasha’s favorite. He wanted to surprise her.

He unlocked the front door and tossed his keys on the marble table.

“Baby, I’m back!” he called out.

There was no answer, but he heard a muffled laugh from upstairs. He walked up the stairs, his grip tightening on the flowers. He pushed the bedroom door open.

The peonies hit the floor as the world stopped spinning. Tasha was in their bed. And the man with her was Marcus, his childhood friend, the guy he’d practically bankrolled for the last three years.

“Asher!” Tasha shrieked, clutching the silk sheets to her chest.

Marcus scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed. “Asher... wait, bro, let me explain.”

Asher just stood there. His heart felt like a slow-moving vise was crushing it. “Don’t bro me, cause if I were actually your brother like you say, you wouldn’t do this to me, and what exactly are you going to explain? I don’t need your explanation, I can already see what’s going on, just get out! Both of you. Right now!”

“Asher, baby, please!” Tasha jumped out of bed, wrapping a robe around her. She ran to him, her face twisting into a mask of desperation. “It’s not what you think! He forced his way in here! He’s been stalking me for weeks, Asher! I was so scared, I didn't know what to do!”

“Stop with the lie already Tasha,” Asher said with disgust.

“I’m not lying, baby! Asher, look at me!” Tasha reached for his hands, her voice trembling. “Asher, you’re the hottest billionaire in California. Every woman wants you. Why would I ever choose him? Look at him! He’s a nobody compared to you!”

“Shut up, Tasha, what are you even saying? You’re not making any sense right now” Asher snapped. He looked at Marcus, who was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. “Did you force her?”

“She called me, Asher,” Marcus whispered, not looking up. “She said she was lonely and she wanted to have some fun.”

“He’s lying!” Tasha shrieked, turning to Marcus. “You Moron! How dare you try to ruin what I have with Asher? Asher, he’s just jealous of you! He’s been trying to get with me for months!”

“I said shut up!” Asher’s voice boomed, “I heard you laughing through the door, Tasha. I heard you tell him I was a 'dry, empty statue. And you were only with me for my money and my popularity' Don't you dare lie to me again!”

Tasha froze. The tears dried up instantly, replaced by something cold and desperate. “Asher, please. We can fix this. I love you. Think about everything we have. The events, the press, we're the perfect couple.”

“We are over! That’s it! Why can’t you get that into your skull? ” Asher said.

“You can’t do this!” Tasha’s voice turned shrill. “You need me! Who else is going to stand by you at the galas? Some boring girl who likes your books? I made you relevant to people who don't even read!”

“You made me a fool,” Asher countered. He held out his hand. “The keys. Now!”

“Asher, baby, please,” she begged, trying to press her body against his. “I was just bored. You’re always working. You don't know how to be a real man to a woman like me. But I can change. I’ll do anything.”

“You’ll leave, Tasha. That’s what you’ll do, I don’t want you to do anything other than that!” Asher said, stepping back from her as if she were a plague. “You’re pretty on the outside, Tasha, but you’re ugly as hell within. No wonder Timmy never liked you. He saw right through you. He told me you were just a gold-digging machine, and I was foolish not to listen.”

“Timmy is a parasite!” Tasha spat.

“Timmy is the only person who actually gives a d*mn about me,” Asher said. “Unlike you. Unlike him.” He pointed at Marcus. “Get your things. Now. Or I’m calling security and having you both dragged out naked in front of the neighbors.”

“Baby, you can't do this to me, to us,” Tasha said, suddenly trying to act like a saint.

“If you’re not out of this house in five minutes, I’m calling the police for trespassing. Tasha, the keys. I’m not asking again.”

She dug into her purse, her face twisted with rage. She slammed the spare keys into his palm. “Fine! Have your empty mansion. It’s a morgue anyway. You’re going to die alone here with your stupid stories!”

“Better alone than with a leech,” Asher said.

She stepped closer to him, her voice dropping to a cruel whisper. “No wonder you couldn’t write for two years. You’ve been pathetic for two years, Asher. Grieving your father like a child, moping around this house, living in the past. You’re broken, and honestly? It was exhausting trying to pretend you weren’t.”

Asher’s eyes darkened, the mention of his father hitting a nerve she had no right to touch. He looked at her, seeing the hollow, wicked person beneath the makeup.

“Get out! Before you make me do something that you’ll regret” Asher said, his voice like gravel.

He watched them scramble. Marcus didn't even look at him as he bolted down the stairs. Tasha stopped at the doorway, her eyes scanning the room as if she wanted to steal something on her way out.

“You think you’re so special? You were a paycheck and a pretty face for the cameras. That’s it. You’re going to regret this, Asher Koo!” she yelled from the landing. “I’m the best thing that ever happened to you!”

“You’re the best lesson I ever learned,” Asher called back.

The front door slammed so hard the house groaned. Asher walked over to the bed and ripped the sheets off, throwing them into the corner like they were trash. He felt hollow. Brittle.

“How did I even end up with someone as terrible as her?” Asher asked the empty room.

“Open the d*mn door, Asher! I know you’re in there!”

Timmy’s voice was muffled by the thick mahogany of the front door, followed by a relentless pounding that echoed through the hollow silence of the foyer. Asher didn’t move. He sat on the bottom step of the grand staircase, still wearing the same charcoal suit trousers from the day before, his white shirt unbuttoned and wrinkled. The house smelled of stale air and the faint, lingering scent of Tasha’s perfume.

The doorbell chimed a sharp, digital contrast to the heavy thud of Timmy’s fist. Then, Asher’s phone vibrated against the marble floor.

He picked it up. ‘Timmy’. Asher swiped to answer but didn't put it to his ear. He just stared at the screen.

“I can hear your phone vibrating through the wood, man!” Timmy yelled from the porch. “Pick up or I’m calling a locksmith. I swear Asher.”

Asher stood up, his joints popping. He walked to the door and pulled it open. The Saturday morning su