Can You Break the Ice in His Heart? by Yelysaveta Maiboroda

Trevor Dorn was a man of ice.

His smile never reached the cold blue eyes that seemed to be forever judging others. His strength was in his cruelty. 

He sat in his office with a cup of hot coffee without sugar. He hated sweets. Having rejected another offer of cooperation, he smiled and terminated the contract. The office workers have whispered to each other more than once.

“The devil has ruined someone's career again.”

It was not surprising, because Trevor was a real Mephistopheles in human form. He knew it. He loved to be feared. 

On his desk is a small black and white photo of a happy family. The photo shows a boy with a fluffy bear in his hands, with his mom and dad hugging him from both sides. It is a pity that no one can look inside, no one can see the real picture. No one can destroy this dollhouse.

Born into great wealth, Trevor has never known a moment of happiness. His parents, Mr. and Mrs. Dorn, were devoid of warmth. His father always told him.

“There is no room for weakness in this family.”

The need for approval became Trevor's main problem. He excelled at everything - school, sports, even music, although the piano keys were cold under his fingers. Yet his accomplishments caused only a distant flash of pride in his father's eyes. It was never enough.

The man remembers himself as a teenager. Trevor stands in front of his parents with his report card in hand. All A's except for one B in art. His father's face is frozen, and disappointment radiates from him. 

“The Dorns hate failure,” he says, his voice icy. 

Trevor felt a pain in his chest - a longing for warmth, for acceptance that will forever remain unfulfilled. All he could think of was disgust at the man who had raised him.

The rejection, the constant pressure, was twisting Trevor's heart. It was not hatred that blossomed, but icy indifference. He watched others with detached curiosity, unable to comprehend the messy tangle of emotions that coloured their lives. He built walls around himself, icy walls that mirrored the coldness in his own heart.

The man sat and looked at the photo for a long time, which only made him feel disgusted and disappointed. He hated this feeling because it made him feel weak.

The desire for power became his only consolation, an attempt to fill the void left by his parents' neglect. His icy demeanour and ruthless tactics were part of an elaborate performance, a shield against the vulnerability he swore he would never reveal. He would do anything for total control and manipulation.

A contract was placed on his desk again, which would definitely help the small financial company not to lose its position on the stock exchange market. Trevor looks at the sheet, crumples it up, and ruthlessly throws it in the rubbish. Trevor hates weakness.