Page 111 of Vivacity
Behind me, I sense that terrified little boy finally exhale.
I stand there, and I merely raise a sardonic eyebrow, and it infuriates him even more. He continues to rant at me, shaking his finger as if it’s on him to impart an important life lesson.
‘Kingsley men do not walk away. We are leaders. Leaders in business, leaders of people. We stick around and we show the world how it’s done. Leaving the company, indeed! You’re delusional. What do they call it these days? A snowflake. You’ll humiliate all of us. Can you even imagine what the press would say?’
And there it is. The outright admission that my father wishes to be judged only on his public glory and not his private deeds. On perception and not reality. If it happens behind closed doors, he’s not interested. And that’s precisely why his actual success as a parent never preoccupied him for a single moment, while his perceived success as a business leader preoccupied his every waking thought.
I haven’t taken this enormous life decision in order to spite my father. I really haven’t. It’s simply a pleasant bonus. But I can’t deny that satisfaction courses warmly through my chest as I stand to face up to him. I have several inches on him now, a fact that feels more reassuring than it should. These days, I physically tower over the bully. I slide my hands into my pockets.
‘I don’t care what the press says. I don’t care what your golf buddies think, or your old cronies in the industry. I care about my son’s wellbeing and my own.’ I clear my throat and fix him with my iciest glare. Today, I’m happy to have the protection of my inner ice king. He’s a terrifying motherfucker, and he’s about to show Richard Kingsley that he’s totally fucking impenetrable.
‘Besides, I’ve found a supremely elegant solution: a successor who’s far more qualified than I am to lead the combined company into its next phase. The press will love him.’ I pause for effect. ‘Miles Montague has graciously agreed to step up as CEO.After all, he’s the architect of our main growth engine. The board has already approved him as my successor with immediate effect. We’ve drafted the press releases and we’ll put it out as soon as the board has formally voted him in.’
My father appears to be physically unable to speak. For a glorious moment, I imagine him dropping dead, right by the fireplace. Alas, he turns a deep purple and belatedly finds his voice.
‘Miles Montague! Over my dead body! Are you out of your fucking mind?’
My mother starts weeping, her default response to any family conflict, and I find myself feeling a spot of compassion amid the usual irritation. Philip would have a field day with my mum. For decades, she’s made placating Richard Kingsley her entire personality. I’m sure her wounds run deep.
‘It’s okay, Mum,’ I say. ‘I promise.’ I turn back to my father. ‘Actually, I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m choosing my family over an empire that’s only ever existed to serve your ego, and I’ve put in place a successor who’s probably even stronger than I would have been.’
‘He won’t cut costs.’ Dad’s face is still purple, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. He may be furious, but he’s also more rattled than I’ve ever seen him. The ground beneath his very feet is shifting; I’ve shattered the world as he knows it with a single sentence. ‘You know that. He’s too much of a pussy.’
I shrug. ‘Maybe, but he’ll grow the top line better than I could have, I’d put money on it.’
But he’s not listening. ‘You’d put their name on the door of my company. You’re nothing more than Charles fucking Montague’s Trojan horse, you disloyal little shit.’
‘You should listen to your father,’ Mum interjects pleadingly. ‘Please, sweetie. He’s so much more experienced than you. Hecan give you some guidance! He can help you out of this silly mess you’ve made.’
‘A self-serving man once told me,’ I reply smoothly, ignoring her, ‘that loyalty never helped the bottom line. If I’m correct, that’s what you told Charles in that board meeting, anyway.’ Let’s see how he feels about having his own bullshit served back up to him.
He’s staring at me as if he doesn’t know me, as if he’s never set eyes on this quietly courageous, intransigent man standing before him. And he’d be right. I’ve never shown this side of myself to him. But I’ve finally chosen my son, fourteen years too late, and I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t go utterly feral to protect him.
‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it,’ he spits. ‘They don’t have what it takes. I forbid you to propose that Montague boy. I’m the Chairman of the Board, dammit. Let’s see what the little turncoats have to say when they’re facing up to me.’
I shrug, unbothered. ‘Feel free. But that’s the wonderful thing about British corporate governance standards, Dad. They are all entitled to vote as they like.’
I don’t think he’s even listening. ‘The MontagueMonourdoors,’ he mutters, eyes glazed. I suspect his mind is playing him a vivid movie of how the future of the company he built will unfold, and I suspect it’s a tough watch. He turns his gaze back on me, and it’s pure poison. ‘I built this company onmyvision andmyvalues, and Charles Montague thinks he can swan in and put his name overmydoors? Have you no shame at all?’
I nearly laugh at that one. ‘Your values are greed and glory. Charles Montague has more integrity in his little finger than you have.’ Mum gasps at my impudence, and I ignore her. ‘I spent the twenty-seventh with him and Miles in the Cotswolds, hammering this thing out. He was incrediblygracious, considering you’ve spent years dreaming of destroying his legacy.’
And now he’ll erase yours. He’ll reimagine it as his own, and it will be all the better for it.
The words hang between us. I don’t need to say them. Dad grips the mantelpiece and stares into the fire. He looks utterly lost, and I don’t blame him. When you give all of your attention to things that don’t actually matter, and they disappear, what’s left? Nothing. Because the things that do matter are no longer available to you.
‘It’s done, Dad. Okay? You can rail all you want, but it’s a done deal.’
He looks up and glares at me. ‘You are no son of mine. I mean it. You’re an utter disgrace. I wouldneverhave abandoned my responsibilities in favour of my son.’
I do laugh at that, but there’s no mirth in it. ‘Tell me something I don’t know, Dad.’
‘You belong to me. This company, this family,you—it's all mine. I made you, and I can unmake you. You think you can just decide to leave? You’re nothing without the Kingsley name.’
‘You’re so wrong, on so many levels. None of it is yours. You have no autonomy over anyone but yourself, something Mum would do well to take on board. And you threatening me shows me just how despicable you are. I don’t want your name. I don’t want any association with you. And I certainly don’t want anything you have to offer.’
He spits out an outraged laugh. ‘After everything I’ve given you—the fine education, the opportunities, the bloodycompany—this is how you repay me? You’re cut off. Both of you. Every trust fund, every inheritance. See how far your principles get you when you’re living like a pauper.’
‘You’re entitled to do all that, if it makes you feel better,’ I say with a tired shrug. ‘I don’t care about any of it. Honestly, good riddance.’
