Chapter 1: The Ice King

The boardroom was silent—oppressively so. Even the hum of the central air conditioning seemed to still in the presence of Zayden Yllanes, the man whose name alone could raise stock prices—or crush them.

He sat at the head of the long, obsidian table, his tailored suit untouched by even a wrinkle, a glass of untouched scotch on the table beside his tablet. His silver watch glinted beneath the sharp cuff of his sleeve. Unmoving. Unforgiving.

The presentation had ended five minutes ago. No one had spoken since.

Across the table, executives from a mid-level tech firm—three of them, all sweating through their collared shirts—shifted uncomfortably. Their numbers were solid. Their projections promising. Their growth, evident. They had rehearsed this for weeks. Yet none of that mattered.

Because Zayden’s expression didn’t change. Not once.

He tapped the screen in front of him, closed the portfolio file, and finally lifted his eyes. Slate-gray. Icy. Sharp enough to cut through steel.

“Mr. Yllanes, if you have any questions—” the tech firm's CEO began, his voice cracking from the weight of the room.

“I don’t,” Zayden said simply.

The room seemed to grow ten degrees colder.

“Then... can we assume your interest in the acquisition remains?” one of the younger execs dared to ask.

Zayden leaned back slowly, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. He looked at them—not like people, but problems. Temporary, irritating, solvable.

“This merger,” he said coolly, “was a waste of my time. Your valuation is inflated, your data security is laughable, and your projected reach is delusional at best.”

“But—”

“I don’t do ‘but,’” he cut in. “You’re lucky I stayed this long.”

The lead CEO tried again, desperation slipping into his voice. “Our algorithm—”

“Can’t even protect itself from third-tier breaches. My team hacked your beta version in under seven minutes.”

The silence that followed wasn’t just stunned. It was shattering.

Zayden stood, buttoning his coat with a snap of fabric and finality. “You came here thinking I was another investor desperate to buy innovation. You were wrong.” He paused. “I don’t buy ideas. I buy dominance. Yours doesn’t qualify.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the room.

Just like that—deal dead.

The heavy glass door shut behind him like a guillotine.

He strode down the marble-floored corridor of Yllanes Tower, eyes forward, expression unreadable. Employees parted for him instinctively, murmuring respectful greetings under their breath.

“Mr. Yllanes.”

“Sir.”

He didn’t acknowledge a single one.

Only Yula, her composed and sharp-eyed executive assistant, dared to fall in step with him.

“They're calling it a disaster,” she said calmly, tapping her tablet. “Three news outlets already leaked your decision.”

“Good,” Zayden replied.

“Stock prices are shifting. Y-Tech just dropped six percent.”

“Should’ve dropped ten. They’re overvalued.”

Yula gave a small nod. She’d long since learned that Zayden didn’t need compliments. Only results.

She tried again. “The board wants to schedule a follow-up on the Roces deal.”

“Declined.”

“And the governor’s daughter’s engagement party? Are we confirming attendance?”

Zayden stopped walking.

He turned his head slightly. “Why would I confirm attendance to a party I never agreed to?”

Yula blinked. “Her father is… expecting it.”

“I don’t entertain expectations. Especially not sentimental ones.” He looked away. “Send a fruit basket.”

“And what would you like the card to say?”

Zayden didn’t miss a beat. “Condolences on the death of your daughter's standards.”

Yula tried not to smile. She failed.

When Zayden entered his private office—more a glass citadel than a room—he finally loosened the knot of his tie.

Outside, the skyline of the city stretched endlessly. Gray buildings. Gray sky. A world that suited him.

He didn’t believe in distractions. Or emotion. Or love.

All of those had failed him once. And once was enough.

He sat at his desk and swiped open a new file.

Another company. Another deal.

Another mountain to crush.

Until—

Crash.

The sound came from just outside his office door. A loud thud. Muffled shouting. Papers? Maybe something broken.

Zayden frowned. “Yula?”

No answer.

Then—

The door swung open, wide and without warning.

And in came a girl covered in coffee, hair a mess, apron stained with frosting, clutching a broken tray and the handle of a fallen catering cart. Her eyes wide. Panicked. Absolutely horrified.

She froze when she saw him.

He froze when he saw her.

Time hung awkwardly between them.

“…This isn’t the kitchen,” she whispered.

Zayden’s eyes narrowed.

“No,” he said, rising slowly from his chair.

“This is the top floor, isn’t it?” she asked with a small, nervous laugh.

He said nothing.

“I… I swear I was just trying to find the executive lounge to deliver the— Oh god, your floor is like a maze.”

Still nothing.

“…Are you—” she pointed at him carefully, “Mr. Yllanes?”

Zayden took one slow step forward.

“You’re trespassing.”

“I swear I’m not! I’m the pastry supplier—Sweet Crumbs! I brought croissants! There’s just—”

His gaze dropped to her tray. Half-broken. Smeared with chocolate.

“—been a small accident,” she finished.

He looked back up at her. The frosting on her apron. The hair stuck to her forehead. The nervous flush in her cheeks. The absolute absurdity of her even being on this floor.

And yet, for the first time in a long while…

Zayden Yllanes didn’t feel cold.

He didn’t smile, not even a twitch of one.

But something in his world shifted.

And she—whoever she was—had just become his next problem.

"Out!!!"

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