The skyline glowed behind them, glass windows stretching to the ceiling, letting in the dimming light of the city. The room reeked of wealth, but nothing that its occupants were not used to from the polished mahogany, leather chairs, crystal tumblers, and the low murmur of old money disguised as polite conversation.
A long conference table stretched between them. Seated were four old n and a young man, who looked out of place yet otherwise. One could say they were veteran moguls, so in silk suits, others with grey hair swept back like ti-worn crowns. At the head of the table sat Brad Thornston, the acting CEO of the winery after his brother had gone missing.
Although this Brad was nothing like the one from months before, he was impassive, thumbing through a digital report that had been submitted to him.
The once carefree young man now sat tall and composed, every inch the image of authority. Gone were the lazy grins and half-hearted nods. Brad had stepped into his role with startling grace. He had led a whole team of seasoned executives with steady hands and sharper eyes, his voice calm but firm, his presence commanding.
The faint traces of fatigue, those small, betraying lines around the eyes, were well-hidden behind layers of resolve and quiet confidence. In that mont, Brad was not just himself; he was the echo of his elder brother—stern, powerful, unyielding. And in that echo, a quiet truth resounded: blood, indeed, was thicker than water.
Three of the stakeholders were throwing their weight around as usual, as if they owned the company, yet Brad knew full well that, if Ian had been there, all three of them would be like llow sheep.
The last of the old n, one who went by Carmichaels, was the only one who seed to use his head in anything. Brad understood why this man was one of the only ones who had worked closely with Ian.
They were not in the T-Vino Winery HQ, which housed most of their offices. This was a temporary lodging for the specific eting.
"Well, go ahead with it," one old man snapped, not bothering to hide his dissatisfaction at having to answer to another younger man. When Ian had disappeared, they had thought that it was grounds for them to be in control, but little did they know that the second Thornston son would step up to the task.
Though they tried everything to find fault with him, with that sneaky Carmichaels backing him, it was nearly impossible to do anything, but the three felt that their ti had co, and they were prepared to pull the rug from underneath Brad finally.
Brad looked up and started with the most mundane report,
"...and while the feasibility study suggests a moderate 3% gain over the next fiscal year, if we add —"
An exaggerated yawn from one of the shareholders interrupted him.
"That’ll do," another said flatly. "If we’re here to hear a litany of modest gains, we might as well be in our hos and read these quarterly reports on our own!"
They leaned back, unimpressed. But it was more like a display of power in the face of soone they thought they could control in their way.
Although they usually did this, they never went overboard, as Brad only tolerated so much.
Brad let out a sigh, set the tablet down on the table, and glanced at the one who had interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin.
Carmichaels did not interrupt but watched in amusent. Instead.
"If you don’t care about teeny tiny profits, then what are you doing here?" Brad also snapped,
"What do you an by that?!"
"As a learned stakeholder, don’t you know that the fact that there are no losses predicted, or we are not even predicting to break even, ans that we are already ahead of everyone in the niche market? How did you pass your lessons with a block head like that?"
The room shifted, and all eyes turned to Brad.
Carmichaels, he just chuckled, quite loudly too, at Brad’s retort, making the other three squirm in their seats. For, even though Brad had cussed, his words were right, and they could not refute them.
"I know you think you know the world because you’re all old. But don’t forget that at one ti, you were my age and even younger. When I give you the cause to reprimand , I’ll gladly take it, but these nonsensical interruptions have gone on long enough!"
"YOU!"
"What about ?" Brad retorted, hands on the table, glaring at them, but he never raised his voice. He believed that he was only stating facts, and he did not need to overexert himself to do that.
"Now that I use the sa tone and match your deanour, you find it insulting?"
Brad tilted his head,
"That’s good! Because you’ll now shut your trap and listen to the report. But if you feel like you’re too old to handle your responsibilities and cannot think straight, you can walk out the door... no one would stop you!"
Then Brad muttered under his breath, "How did Ian handle such hypocrites?"
"He just sacked them...."
Carmichaels, who was closest to Brad, volunteered the info. That made Brad smile, but he saw from the corner of his eye that the other three exchanged so nods and glares. As to what they had agreed on, he had no idea, nor did he care.
Just then, a knock sounded, and the door pushed open.
A young man of barely 30 entered and then adjusted his jacket. He was fresh-faced, had on polished shoes, and none of the old n minded him, but he walked over to Brad and bowed,
"It’s done, sir!"
Brad’s smile spread wider and then,
"Go ahead."
This man was his personal secretary or assistant, and Brad liked how the man took his work seriously.
He straightened, tapped a few keys, and the screen behind him ca to life.
"As of a few hours ago, our bid for the Mush Trades has been finalized."
Eyebrows rose.
Mush? That was a popular na in their circles at the ti. Abi and Abram Mush’s company was really rich in assets. They held advantageous landmarks and ports, as well as other physical assets.
For so reason, it was said that they were in huge debt after their arrest, and the whole estate was to be sold off to pay off that. The company itself could not function as it did prior. It had more or less collapsed under the shadow of the core family’s reputation.
But this did not an that other businesses and families did not covert this. Brad had been among the first to make his move on behalf of the T-Vino wineries.
One of the older shareholders narrowed his eyes. "You an the estate that’s been the talk since yesterday? How did you manage that? Isn’t the tiline too fast? I have not even heard that they opened the bids yet..."
Brad stepped in and nodded. "That’s the one."
Another shareholder looked irritated. "Isn’t that a waste of ti... given how the family......"
Long and short, they were just skeptical and could not understand how Brad had undertaken that feat.
"I knew you were problematic!" Brad started,
"Did we buy the family or its assets?"
His assistant clicked again. It was a new slide: A photo of a signed deed.
For a mont, the room was silent—so silent you could almost hear the ticking of the antique clock on the far wall. The executives, once lounging back in their leather seats with barely veiled disinterest, now leaned forward, eyebrows raised, expressions sharpened.
One of the older shareholders adjusted his glasses and exchanged a glance with another—both n had written the boy off as nothing more than a temporary figurehead. A placeholder.
But now? They were reassessing. Thoroughly. As soone in their stead, they had to know when to jump ship!
Carmichaels cleared his throat and finally said what most of them were thinking, "Well... I’ll be damned."
Even though he had been kept in the dark, on the final transaction, he was as proud of Brad as if he were his son.
Another, the one who had always been most vocal about the Brad’s inexperience, muttered under his breath, "He’s his brother’s blood, alright. Didn’t think he had it in him."
The only one still dissatisfied was the one who had been reprimanded, but no one paid attention to him and his ego issues.
The energy shifted. Where once there had been quiet dismissal, now sat an undercurrent of respect, tinged with the careful calculation of those who had underestimated soone and were now trying to reposition themselves accordingly. They were still watching, still weighing—but no longer dismissing.
The eting went smoothly afterwards, and about an hour later, all three manager agents exited the room.
"You do keep secrets well!" Carmichaels chuckled and tapped Brad on the back fondly,
"I learn from the best!"
"Good! Let’s continue this later.... My daughter awaits...."
Brad nodded just as his assistant, who had escorted the old n, ca back and gave him a ssage that dampened his mood,
"How did they even know I was here?"
The assistant shrugged, and Brad sighed, rubbing his temple.
"I’ll leave you to it," Carmichaels inputted and headed out. At the door, he paused,
"Are you sure you don’t want to set up with my daughter?"
Brad found the will to smile at that, "Absolutely! Don’t push your luck, old man. I am done with won!"
"Well, it was worth the ask... you’re the one missing out!"
*********
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