Chapter 21 - The Weight of the Crown
The corporate boardroom on the fiftieth floor of the city's most prestigious skyscraper was a monument to cold, unfeeling power.
The massive table was carved from a single piece of dark mahogany, polished to a mirror-like finish that reflected the stormy, overcast sky looming outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The air inside the room was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, bitter espresso, and centuries of arrogant entitlement.
Mateo stood at the absolute head of the table.
He did not wear the dirt-stained denim of a gardener today. He wore a flawlessly tailored, charcoal-gray bespoke suit that cost more than what he used to earn in three years. Yet, as he rested his hands on the polished mahogany, his rough, heavily calloused fingers stood in stark contrast to the soft, manicured hands of the thirty executives staring back at him.
"The transition of power has been sudden, Mr. Mateo,"
An older, silver-haired executive named Sterling began, his tone laced with thinly veiled condescension.
"But managing a multi-billion dollar conglomerate is vastly different from... pruning rose bushes."
Mateo did not flinch. He did not look away.
He let the heavy, suffocating silence stretch out for ten agonizing seconds, allowing the sheer weight of his intense, dark gaze to press down on the arrogant executive.
"You are absolutely right, Sterling,"
Mateo finally replied, his voice a low, rumbling baritone that commanded absolute authority.
"When a rose bush is infected with a parasite, you prune the dead weight to save the roots. Looking at the financial reports from your division over the last three years, I see a tremendous amount of dead weight."
Sterling’s face instantly lost its color.
"I am not my brother,"
Mateo stated smoothly, turning his piercing gaze to encompass the entire silent room.
May you like
"Daniel led this company with fear and corruption. I will lead it with absolute transparency. If any of you feel that a former gardener is unfit to sign your exorbitant paychecks, you are welcome to leave your access cards on this table and walk out that door. Right now."
Not a single executive moved a muscle. They realized, with profound terror, that the gardener was entirely ruthless.
