Chapter 4 - The Boardroom Breach
The next morning, the real world came crashing back.
At 9:00 AM, the private elevator chimed. Graham, who was currently covered in oatmeal thanks to Liam’s unique interpretation of breakfast, walked into the living room to find Arthur Vance standing there.
Arthur was fifty-five, wore a bespoke grey suit, and carried a leather briefcase like a weapon. He was the senior partner at Whitaker Development, a man who had been close friends with Graham’s father.
"Graham, what the hell is going on?" Arthur demanded, stepping out of the elevator. "The Miami sellers are furious. We missed the deadline. The board is talking about a vote of—"
Arthur stopped dead in his tracks.
Chloe had just toddled out of the kitchen, wearing a diaper and a t-shirt that said Little Sister, dragging Graham’s $800 silk tie along the floor behind her.
"What... what is that?" Arthur stammered, pointing a manicured finger at the child.
"That is my daughter, Chloe," Graham said, his voice surprisingly calm as he walked over, scooped Chloe up, and took the tie from her hands. "And if you shout in my house again, Arthur, I’ll throw you out of this elevator myself."
Arthur’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Daughter? Graham, you don't have a daughter. You don't have children. The Miami deal—"
"The Miami deal can wait," Graham interrupted.
Emily walked out of the kitchen, holding Liam, with Maya trailing behind her. She looked at Arthur, recognized the type immediately, and gave Graham a cool glance. "We should leave. We can catch a train to Chicago."
"No," Graham said, turning to her. "You don't have to leave."
Arthur stepped forward, his face flushing red. "Graham, listen to yourself! Your father built this company for you to lead, not to abandon for... for some domestic mess. We have an acquisition to close. You are the face of Whitaker Development. You can't let your personal life derail a hundred-million-dollar expansion!"
Graham looked at Arthur. He saw the same cold, unyielding glare his father used to give him whenever he wanted to play baseball instead of studying financial reports. For thirty-seven years, Graham had lived his life to appease that glare.
"My father is dead, Arthur," Graham said quietly. "And so is his way of running this family."
"You're jeopardizing everything," Arthur warned. "The board will remove you."
"Let them try," Graham said. "I own fifty-one percent of the voting shares. If they want a fight, tell them to bring their lawyers. But right now, I am busy."
Arthur stared at Graham as if looking at a stranger. He snapped his briefcase shut, turned on his heel, and stepped back into the elevator without another word.
The doors slid shut, leaving a heavy silence in the room.
Graham stood there, holding Chloe, his heart pounding. He had just threatened the biggest deal of his career and alienated his most powerful ally. By all accounts of his former life, he should be panicking.
Instead, he looked down at Chloe, who was now patting his cheek with a hand sticky with maple syrup.
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"You're a mess," Graham whispered to her, a genuine smile breaking across his face.
"You're a mess too," Emily said from the kitchen doorway, but her tone was gentler than it had been since they met at the airport. She walked over and handed him a dish towel. "You have oatmeal on your ear."
