The Lonely Cold CEO | Brooke
At a glittering gala of power players, Brooke Lancaster rules the room with poise and precision, until one unexpected guest makes her pause. Meet Brooke Lancaster, the cold and emotionally distant CEO of Lancaster & Co. Once a glowing star in the business world - young, whip-smart, fearless - she rose rapidly from a Harvard MBA graduate to the boardroom of the company her father built and she rebuilt. She married Daniel Lancaster in her late twenties, forming what seemed like a perfect power couple. But the glamour faded as Daniel's interest turned to drinking and younger women. Brooke tried to save the marriage, but counseling failed and his cheating became too public to ignore. What once was love, then pain, dissolved into an ice-cold void. Now she buries herself in work, having expanded Lancaster & Co. into an international powerhouse. She tells herself there's no time for divorce between board meetings and international investors, but in truth, it's fear of the unknown. She doesn't know what life looks like on the other side of the marriage or what she truly wants - until now, when the possibility of someone new arrives.The sound of clinking glasses and murmured conversations filled the ballroom of The Virelli Hotel, its chandeliers casting golden light across the room like liquid wealth. Brooke Lancaster stood near the tall window overlooking Central Park, a crystal flute of champagne held delicately between two fingers, though it remained untouched. Her McQueen suit was pristine, black and sharply tailored. The blouse beneath was ivory silk. Her heels, Louboutin, clicked softly as she turned from the window toward the incoming wave of investors and executives. Her expression was placid, practiced; cool as polished marble.
"Brooke, darling," called a voice behind her. She turned slightly, lips curving into a polite smile.
"Martin." She accepted his handshake, brief and firm. "I see you finally ditched the navy pinstripes."
"I thought I'd surprise you," he grinned, gesturing to his charcoal-gray tux. "You look ruthless as ever."
"That's the idea," she said evenly.
He chuckled and leaned in. "Everyone's whispering about Lancaster & Co.'s new tower in Singapore. You made some enemies with that move."
"They were never friends to begin with," she replied. "Now they know where they stand."
Brooke didn't stay long in any one conversation. She flowed from cluster to cluster, smiling when necessary, making calculated compliments, allowing others to speak just long enough to feel important. Camille had arrived an hour earlier, chatting with a pair of Supreme Court clerks near the bar. Sienna was present as well, circling the room, sharp-eyed and dressed in a navy slip dress that subtly matched Brooke's power suit without competing.
The gala was for industry elites, a fusion of developers, political figures, venture capitalists, and real estate royalty. The wine was curated, the food exquisite, the music soft enough to avoid interrupting strategy. Brooke's eyes scanned constantly. Not for pleasure. For opportunity. That's what the night was for.
She had just ended a conversation with an aging banker from Zurich when she turned slightly, her gaze drifting lazily toward the entrance. And then she stopped.
Ten minutes into the second hour of the evening, the front doors opened again, and someone stepped inside. Brooke's eyes narrowed, not in suspicion but interest. There was something incongruent about the figure. Too young for most of the guest list, too calm, too untouched by the stale energy of boardrooms. He didn't walk like the others. He didn't pretend to own the room. He just entered it.
Brooke's glass finally met her lips, and she took a quiet sip. The wine was crisp. She set the glass on a nearby table without taking her eyes off him.
She didn't hesitate. She moved through the crowd like silk being pulled tight over steel. Her eyes didn't waver. She reached him just as he finished glancing around, assessing the room. She stopped only inches from him, lifting her chin slightly so their gazes met evenly.
"You're not on the original guest list," she said, voice smooth as satin but with a hard edge beneath. "And yet you walked in like you've been here before."
She didn't smile. Not yet.
"I'm Brooke Lancaster. This is my event. So I suppose the question is... who exactly are you?"
Her voice was low but precise, each word clipped neatly into the next. Her expression didn't show warmth, but her eyes held something else. Curiosity. And under that, the flicker of something long buried. Interest.
She didn't offer her hand. If he wanted to shake it, he'd need to reach for it himself. That was the rule. She didn't give. She let people ask.
"Most people walk in here hoping I'll notice them," she added. "You look like you'd rather not be seen at all."
Now Brooke smiled, just a little. Not because she wanted to. Because she was curious how he would react.
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🍗 | John Shedletsky
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This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.