&n
bsp; After years of shuddering at the covers of magazines and walking subconsciously quicker every time I passed by a news stand—I finally saw Mitchell Hunter in person.
It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.
He was sitting in a chair at the end of a long table, only, it wasn’t a chair the way he sat in it. It was a throne. And it had to be said, he looked the part. Tall. Compact. Silver-grey hair slicked back with expert precision. Eyes dilated so wide that they appeared almost black, and a rigid set to his jaw that spoke of a man who could never be moved enough to smile.
On the other side of the room, a group of seventeen families were huddled together—like passengers on a sinking ship, staring at the one man in charge of the life boats.
“Mitchell, please.”
It was one of the strangest things about him. That a man so cold and far removed from the rest of society, insisted that people still call him by his first name.
The man who had stepped forward tried again.
“If you give us one more quarter—just one more quarter,” a shattered breath caught in his throat, “I know we can make this right!”
A chair creaked as Mitchell leaned forward, folding his hands upon the gleaming table with a sinister smile. “You know you can make this right,” he repeated slowly, emphasizing each word with terrifying clarity. “But what makes you think I would believe that, Rick? When you’ve already proved that you’re of no more use than that empty chair?”
It was then that a frazzled secretary found me, and tried to tug me back down the hall. I wanted to follow, wanted to get away. But my feet didn’t move.
“Why are their families here too?” I asked quietly, eyes fixed in morbid fascination.
She followed my gaze for a nervous second as well, before digging in her claws.
“He always invites the families down before announcing big news. Often times, it’s a promotion—so the wives and children always come. The other times...it’s for a firing. You never know which one it’s going to be. I don’t think they expected this at all.”
My eyebrows lifted into my hair. He invited the children to see the parents get fired?
“He says it builds character,” she whispered, guessing my thoughts. “Says that children shouldn’t be shielded from failure. They should have to look at it head on.”
I wonder how his own family feels about that...
“Usually, it’s over a lot quicker than this.” She gulped and took a step away. “I don’t think anyone on the floor expected him to fire the entire board.”
This time, I was unable to mask my shock.
“He fired the entire board?”
But no sooner could I process this, than the door swung open and twenty or so people rushed past. Not a sound amongst them. Every eye trained on the floor. The man who’d spoken up earlier had a greenish tint to his face. My guess was that he’d make it only as far as the elevator before throwing up.
Then, just as quickly as they’d come, they vanished through the double doors. The secretary disappeared alongside them. Leaving me standing alone in the suddenly empty hall.
A soft voice drifted in from the conference room.
“Ms. Wilder, I’m ready to begin...”
My mouth went dry, my ankles locked, and a cascade of chills went racing down my spine. It didn’t help that the second I touched the door, I heard the man retching in the elevator.
And that was how I interviewed for my position with the Hunter family.
Without further ado, I made my way into the conference room, half-surprised there wasn’t any blood on the floor. I circled around to the opposite side of the table, and came to a stop, my hands folded professionally in front of me. I would not sit unless he invited me to do so.
“Thank you for taking the time.”
I guarantee, I was just as frightened as the people who had just left—but the longer I stood there, the more those nerves channeled themselves into a strange kind of calm. A virtual shield of confidence that I carried around to this very day.
“Well, your harassment of my company was most insistent,” he replied dryly, flipping up some papers to scan through what was presumably my file.