CHAPTER 2: The Unexpected Variable 

For the past week, New York had felt to Aiden like a chessboard where he was slowly losing his final pawns. He had been working relentlessly—not to close a trillion-dollar merger, but to hunt for a "worthy" woman. Someone to shoulder the heavy burden of bearing an heir to the Power Group empire before he closed his eyes for the last time.

Whenever he closed his eyes, a ruthless question pierced his mind: What would the child inherit from its mother? The intellect of a genius or the greed of a gold-digger? The resilience of a warrior or the cowardice of a pragmatist? To Aiden, the child was not just a son or daughter; it was the continuation of his soul, the living proof that he had once existed brilliantly in this world.

But reality dealt a stinging blow to his expectations.

Nolan had sifted through hundreds of files, assembling a list of the most "elite" candidates. Yet, as predicted, the result was a resounding zero. Of the ten women who had entered his office since morning, nine had turned a serious interview into a cheap farce. They employed every trick in the book: from "accidentally" exposing a shoulder beneath silk layers to casting sultry glances and offering sweet promises of being a "steadfast support."

In Aiden’s eyes, they were not potential mothers. They were vultures, catching the scent of money and the faint stench of mortality already radiating from him. He had dismissed them all bluntly, leaving them to depart with curses about the "heartless king's" cold cruelty.

Aiden sighed, leaning back into his high-end leather chair, struggling to find a trace of oxygen in a space still cloyed with the scent of cheap perfume. His life, ironically, revolved around a paradox: the higher he stood, the more he felt like a man with nothing. Time waited for no one. Every tick of the Patek Philippe on his wrist felt like a hammer striking his own coffin.

Ring... ring...

The trill of a cell phone on the coffee table broke his dark train of thought. Aiden stood up, taking a deep breath to suppress a looming headache. He grabbed the phone, staring at the caller ID: Nolan Alice.

Aiden let it ring three more times before answering, his voice regaining its authority yet unable to mask his irritation:

"Speak. I don’t have time for nonsense."

"Hello, Boss," Nolan said crisply, his tone noticeably excited.

"Are you looking to meet in person just to receive your termination notice?" Aiden snapped. "Your performance is abysmal. Every candidate this morning failed. What did you send me? A vanity fair?"

"You’re hard to please, Aiden," Nolan ignored the grumbling, his voice nonchalant. "They were all carefully selected based on IQ and aesthetics."

"I shouldn't have expected much from you," Aiden said sharply, his fingers tightening around the device. "Look at the results. Are you slacking off, or do you think I’m joking about my own demise?"

"Come on, Boss. Even the strongest winds have to calm down eventually. Think positive—was there really no one who caught your eye?"

"Not a single one. They are nothing but flawed copies of greed," Aiden replied bitterly.

"Then that’s a matter of your standards, not their lack of talent," Nolan analyzed with the ease of a close friend. "If you’ve already decided to be displeased, then whether they are beauty queens or professors, they’ll be nothing but trash to you. Conversely, once you’ve 'chosen' someone, whether she’s a Cinderella or plain-looking, you’ll see her as a treasure. Are you looking for a mother for your child, or a kindred soul?"

"Stop beating around the bush. Just tell me why you called," Aiden cut him off curtly. He hated how Nolan always managed to read him.

"Calm down."

Aiden remained silent, his heavy breathing over the line signaling his lack of patience for useless moralizing.

"I’ll get straight to the point," Nolan hurried to shift his tone. "You’re still looking for the right woman, aren't you?"

"Obviously. I made that clear from the start. Did you call just to confirm the obvious?" Aiden felt as though every wasted second was a crime.

"In that case, I think I’ve found the perfect match for you."

Aiden arched an eyebrow. A spark of hope ignited, only to be instantly snuffed out by skepticism. "Another 'goddess' from your collection?"

It was a jab at Nolan, who was notoriously devoted to his own girlfriend.

"Hmph. My Anna is one of a kind," Nolan replied, annoyed, but quickly regained his confidence. "This girl is unlike anyone before. She has a certain... quality that perhaps only you can appreciate. She meets 99.9% of your requirements regarding appearance, background, and character. The remaining 0.01% depends on whether you are 'sober' enough to realize she’s the one."

"Splendid," Aiden said sarcastically. "I’ll try to believe your rambling one last time. When can I meet her?"

"Well... hasn't she arrived yet?" Nolan asked, sounding puzzled.

"What? Don't tell me she was among the ones I just kicked out," Aiden exclaimed, his heart skipping a beat in anger.

"No, no. This is a different candidate, not on today’s list. She was referred through a private channel, and I only finalized her file at noon. Since you're in a hurry, I sent her straight to the office. Around 4:00 PM today. She’s probably in the elevator right now. Hope you like this 'gift.' Goodbye, Boss!"

Tut... tut...

Nolan hung up as fast as a whirlwind. Aiden glanced at his Patek Philippe. 3:58 PM. He stood up, fastened his vest button, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, looking down at a Manhattan drowning in a brilliant yet cold twilight. His headache suddenly eased, replaced by a strange curiosity.

The heavy oak doors of the 88th-floor office were about to open for the eleventh time today. Aiden wondered: would this woman bring him a contract for survival, or just another bitter disappointment?

Down in the lobby of the Power Group tower, Alma Jane—a girl with tired but steadfast eyes—stepped into the VIP elevator. Cold metal surrounded her as she began the journey that would take her straight to the pinnacle of power and the abyss of destiny.

10... 50... 80...

On the 88th floor, the silence was so profound that one could almost hear the ticking of the clock. Aiden remained with his back to the door, eyes fixed on the glass. Suddenly, the crystal control panel on his desk flickered with a pale blue signal—the VIP elevator had just docked at the 88th floor.

The final act of his life had truly begun.