Page 13 of Unwrapped

She types a note on her tablet. “Got it. Also, theWall Street Journalis requesting a statement on the recent acquisition. They want to know how you plan to integrate the new tech into our existing platforms.”

I rub the back of my neck, glancing at the email notification on my laptop. There’s always something, always someone looking for a quote or a soundbite. “Draft a response for me to review, but keep it focused on growth potential and synergy. Investors need to see that this move is going to pay off long-term.”

Keri nods and exits, leaving me alone with the steady hum of business as usual. I know the drill by now. Ever since Zane and I turned Mercer Enterprises from our parents’ struggling manufacturing business into a tech and media empire, the spotlight’s been relentless. We’re the golden boys of Chicago’sbusiness scene—the Mercer brothers, a brand in and of itself. I can’t count how many times I’ve been on the cover ofCrain’s Chicago Businessor how often my name pops up in the local news.

From Small-Town Quarterback to Tech Titan,one headline read last month. And another read,Asher Mercer’s Rise to the Top—Chicago’s Favorite CEO Speaks Success and Strategy.I should be used to it by now. I know how to smile for the cameras, how to answer the reporters’ questions, how to play the part of the young, charismatic leader with a vision.

And yet lately, I’ve felt a little off. Like I’m watching my life from the outside, going through the motions but missing something real. Maybe it’s the endless events or the way the press expects me to always be “on.” Or maybe it’s because, when I look at all the articles and news clips, I see someone polished, someone the public expects me to be. And the truth is, I don’t know if that’s really me anymore.

Neither is my personal life that’s been splashed through the tabloids over the years as well—decisions I’m not so proud of.

I glance down at my phone again, Ivy’s message still open. I’m used to people seeing me as a CEO, as the guy who can turn a company around and land million-dollar deals. I’m used to it being business, not personal.

But with her, it felt different. In that meeting, when she talked about the bakery, there was a passion in her eyes, a realness I haven’t felt in a while. I remember when I had that same passion, before it only ever became about numbers. For the first time in months, it felt like I wasn’t just Asher Mercer, CEO. I was just Asher, sitting across from a woman who looked at me like I was still the same guy she remembered from high school. A guy she felt comfortable enough with to ask for advice but wasn’t there to pitch me something.

I lean back in my chair, staring out at the skyline. Ivy and I never really crossed paths back then—sure, I noticed her, but I was too wrapped up in football, parties, and my own ego to make a move. She was always there, though, on the edge of things. I wonder if she knows I remember her, that I noticed the way she’d sit alone with a book or how she’d quietly laugh at something Tessa said.

My phone buzzes again, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s a news alert.

Mercer Enterprises CEO Asher Mercer Set to Expand Youth Mentorship Programs Across Chicago.

I shake my head, swiping the notification away. Sometimes it feels like all the headlines are just noise. I know the work we do is important—Zane and I built this company to be more than just another tech giant. We wanted to create something lasting, something that would give back. But the media frenzy that comes with it is exhausting.

I remember the simpler days when the biggest thing on my mind was getting through a football game or passing my next math test. Things were clearer then—straightforward. Now, everything’s wrapped up in appearances, numbers, and managing perceptions. There’s no room for mistakes.

Keri comes back in, her expression more urgent. “Asher, theChicago Tribunewants a statement on your rumored involvement with the mayor’s initiative for tech hubs in low-income neighborhoods.”

I let out a slow breath. “Tell them we’re committed to supporting local communities and providing resources, but that we’re not ready to make any formal announcements.”

She nods, and as she leaves, I think about how this life—this whirlwind of meetings, press releases, and interviews—is exactly what I signed up for. I built this, and I take pride in it. But lately, I can’t help wondering what else is out there.

My phone buzzes again, and this time it’s Ivy.

Ivy

Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m not sure about being the ‘guest of honor.’ Don’t want to steal your spotlight.

I grin, the tension in my chest easing a little. There it is again—that playful honesty.

I type back:

Asher

Trust me, Ivy, I could use a break from the spotlight. It’s nice to have someone around who’s not just trying to get a headline with me.

Ivy

Shoot. Guess I’ll have to pass now since my plan has been foiled.

I laugh out loud when I read her quick response.

She’s going to be fun.

As I set the phone down, I feel that familiar tug—like maybe there’s something more here than a chance reconnection. Maybe, for once, I can just be myself around someone who doesn’t see me as the rich CEO who has to perform—around someone who I want to be myself with.

Maybe I want that more than I realized.

Chapter 5

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