I Was The Most Powerful CEO In Manhattan Who Thought He Had Buried His Heart Along With His Wife Ten Years Ago, But When A Trembling Janitor’s Daughter Handed Me A Locket That Was Supposed To Be Six Feet Under, I Opened It To Find A Secret That Shattered My Corporate Empire.
They say money can’t buy happiness, but in New York City, it buys a hell of a lot of silence. It buys you a penthouse overlooking Central Park so high up that the sirens sound like lullabies. It buys you suits cut from Italian silk that cost more than most people’s cars. And in my case, it bought me the illusion that I was fine.
I’m Julian Thorne. If you live in the tri-state area, you’ve probably seen my face on Forbes covers or plastered across the news when Thorne Enterprises swallowed up another competitor. I was the ”“Ice King”“ of Wall Street. Ruthless. Efficient. Dead inside.
