I walk into my office, the buzzing heart of Grant Enterprises. From my window, the New York City skyline stretches out like a vast ocean of opportunity. But no matter how many skyscrapers I conquer, there's something missing. There's an emptiness that's as high as these towers and as deep at the same time.
"Good morning, Mr. Grant," my assistant, Lisa, greets me as I make my way to my desk. Her voice is cheerful, as always. I nod and return a smile. "Morning, Lisa."
The office is just as it should be—neat, organized, precise. Everything is in its place. Just like my life… or so everyone thinks. I dive into the mountain of paperwork, contracts, and figures. Numbers don't lie, and they certainly don't get tangled up with emotions.
Today is a big day. Tonight's the annual Grant Enterprises Gala, and I'm supposed to be its star. It's an event full of people who want something from me. But to me, it's just another item on my carefully curated agenda. I've prepared the speech, gone over logistics, even finalized the menu. Everything is perfect. It has to be.
Yet, underneath the surface, there's a storm of emotions that nothing can calm. People often say that running a business isn't personal, but I can't help feeling otherwise. There's no room for feelings when decisions need to happen, and mistakes have stakes. But feelings—those are tricky to control, even for someone like me.
I try to focus as Lisa rattles through today's schedule. More meetings, more decisions, all critical. Yet, I hear a small voice, one that keeps whispering. I tell myself it doesn't matter, that I'm overthinking things. Still, this quiet hum never completely goes away.
Hours fly by, and the city outside my window slowly shifts from busy day to buzzing night. Before I know it, the sun starts to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Beyond my office walls, the city winds up for another night.
"You should head down to the venue soon, Mr. Grant," Lisa reminds me from the doorway. She's right. The gala won't wait, and neither will the people. I catch my reflection in the glass as I rise, straightening my suit jacket. People expect confidence, success; they won't see the unfulfilled parts of the image.
As I step out of my office, I try to push everything else aside. The corridor echoes with each step towards the elevator, each marking the transition from Alexander, the restless thinker, to Alexander, the CEO everyone expects to see.
The drive to the hotel where the gala is happening doesn't take long. Traffic flows smoothly—something rare in New York. A sign, maybe. I shake off the thought. The venue glows with grandeur as I arrive. It's draped in glittering lights. The red carpet stretches out before the entrance, flanked by reporters eager for a soundbite or a headline photo. This is where I'm supposed to be.
Inside, the space is as elegant as can be, with chandeliers casting a warm, welcoming light. Everyone who's anyone is here. I should feel exactly in the right place, yet it still feels... incomplete.
As I work the room, mingling and talking business, I see them all. Important people, big deals, future plans. All the boxes checked. Almost as if by design, but all of this – it doesn't fill the invisible gap.
Despite the success in front of me, despite all the glamour and the grandeur, I can't shake the thought that something—even someone—important is missing. There's a shadow among the spotlights, an empty seat amidst all the full ones. It tugs at me, refusing to stay buried under layers of meetings and contracts.
The sound of laughter and clinking glasses surrounds me, but I’m barely in the moment. The voices fade into the background as my mind wanders. For all the power I wield, why does this sense of longing persist?
I remind myself of tonight's importance, that everything must run smoothly, just as I've planned. Tonight I shine in the spotlight. Tonight, business has all eyes on me. But there’s that whisper again, challenging me like an inaudible dare.
I toss my thoughts aside. There's no place for them here. Not tonight. So, wearing the practiced smile of Alexander Grant the world knows well, I dive into the evening. I play my part to perfection, applause-worthy, but it is a part I play, nonetheless.
What would anyone think if they knew about my shadow? A shadow that is not dark, but rather light—light from something I thought I'd long left behind, but never truly did.
