Page 70 of Enemy Ex's Secret Baby

“And I can assure you, I’m not.” I click to the next slide that has the plans I commissioned yesterday. “As you can see here, the Seton Play Lot gives Hitchins the opportunity to be on the forefront of the community care movement. In our digital age, we are lacking third and even second spaces. We have our homes, a first space. Some of us have our workplaces. A second. But what are our third spaces? Libraries and parks remain two of the only free and accessible places for people to commune together.”

“Accessibility is not–” my dad starts to huff.

“By investing in projects like this, Hitchins is given an opportunity to continue in the residential sector while taking a fresh stance on the role of corporations in our communities. This balance will save us future protests and scandals like we’ve had with this one. And it will also allow us to be a part of the communities that we claim to want to create,” I explain.

“Axel,” Dad snaps. “That is enough.”

I look at him with a blank expression. This is the boardroom. Not our house. And he should have the respect and grace to treat it as such. “I have the floor, Father.”

A flash of fear enters his eyes. “This is not what we discussed.”

“I know. You’ve wanted me to be more proactive and care more about the business. That’s what I’m doing.” I look back at the investors with a smile. “I’m much more interested in hearing what you gentlemen think at this point.”

They all exchange fearful looks. Who is going to speak first? Who is going to take the risk?

“I like it,” one of them finally says. He’s our most established investor, been with us the longest. In fact, he’s known me since I was just a little kid. “I think it’s a big swing. Could be a homerun.”

I nod. “Thank you, sir.”

“My question, though–” someone else pipes up, “is once the facility is built, who takes care of the upkeep and how does it make money?”

I smile. “Well, gentlemen, this is where you all come in. We are in an age where the wealthy are in a constant moral quandary. I believe with limited term investments; the Seton Play Lot can serve as a way for investors to get involved in an immediate way with the community. Plus, it could be a fantastic tax write-off if we’re able to facilitate a non-profit status.” I look to my father. “This would of course require creating another branch of Hitchins altogether, but…I do know a man who would be great for the job.”

I do not need to mince words in order for my father to understand my implication. Jeremiah would be brilliant at this work. But for years now, he’s missed out on having my brother’s talents in the company. There will come a time when he has to step down. I’m ready for that time to be now.

“I’m not dead yet, you know,” he says. “I still run this company.”

There was a time he would never have spoken in front of our shareholders like this. All that’s changed is that we’ve both gotten older. “I know that, Dad. I’m just not willing to roll over and let you do whatever you want with it. This is a new era at Hitchins.” I look to the shareholders. “It can start here and now in this room. You just have to be willing to let it happen.”

“This is preposterous!” Dad shouts, slamming his hand on the table and getting to his feet. “This lame attempt at a coup is–it’s–”

“This isn’t a coup. We’re moving in a new direction.”

“Axel! This isn’t how you make money. The company needs to make money in order for you to make money. In order for you all to make money. We don’t have to be reactionary to morality policing.”

“We do when people start building lawsuits,” one of the investors mentions off-handedly. “What’s one park here and there?”

I nod in agreement. These are people who can play with their money like clay. Sure, a park here and there won’t hurt them. And that’s what I counted on. “Maybe we should bring it to a vote,” I say loudly. My voice is commanding and firm, not forced like my father’s. He’s straining for any inch of control over this room.

This is your room, Axel. Act like it.

“All in favor of repurposing the Seton lot proposal say ‘aye’, those against, say ‘nay’.”

It’s unprecedented, but every investor around the table says ‘aye’. The approval rolls over me like the tide. Until it arrives at my father who is standing next to me. His eyes scan the room, wide and withered. I know he must be wondering how this happened. “Nay,” he says softly.

“I’m afraid you’ve been outvoted,” I say. “Could you sit so I can explain the logistical next steps forward?”

My father looks at me, and for the first time in a long time, it breaks my heart. It’s the look he would give as he looked at us after Mom died. The look of ‘what am I supposed to do with you?’ Tired, scared, and so sad. Wishing he could do better. Not knowing how to.

I don’t blame him. But I am ready to move on.

Dad sits glumly as I go into the nitty gritty of how we will be moving forward with the park. I tell them about the architect I already have on retainer, outreach possibilities, potential for facility rentals. The conversation is vibrant and exciting. For once, the investors look like they’re having a nice time talking about the plans instead of just going through the motions.

When all is said and done, I shake each of their hands as they walk through the door. “Thank you. This is a huge step forward for Hitchins Development.”

That leaves me and my father alone in the conference room. He hasn’t moved a muscle through my presentation.

However, as soon as we’re alone, he gets to his feet, straightens out his jacket, and says, “This is a disappointment.”

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