Chapter 7 - The CEO's Offer
The door opened, and Ethan Vance walked into the room. He was a man in his late forties, immaculate in a bespoke charcoal suit, carrying an aura of absolute corporate power. Behind him walked two corporate defense attorneys carrying leather briefcases.
Ethan didn't look at my mother or Uncle Mark. His eyes swept over the room, landing directly on me—the guy sitting in a fleece work jacket with his company’s logo embroidered on the chest.
"Mr. Jake Vance," Ethan said, his voice measured and deep. "I believe we haven't met since your grandfather's funeral."
"Let's skip the pleasantries, Ethan," Victoria said, gesturing to the empty chairs across the table. "You know what's in this box. You know what your father did in 1982."
Ethan sat down smoothly, unbuttoning his suit jacket. His lawyers remained standing behind him.
"What my father did forty years ago was improper," Ethan admitted flatly, without a hint of shame. "However, Vance Industries today is a three-billion-dollar enterprise employing over four thousand people across the Midwest. If these documents are released to the press tomorrow morning, our stock price will plunge forty percent by market open. Federal regulators will freeze our credit lines. Four thousand innocent people will lose their jobs."
"And your cousin Greg?" I asked. "What about his role in trying to cover this up tonight?"
Ethan let out a quiet, dismissive sigh. "Greg was an idiot who acted recklessly to protect his own middle-management skin. As of twenty minutes ago, Greg has been terminated from Vance Industries for gross ethics violations. He no longer represents this company, nor will we provide his legal defense."
My mother gasped softly. Linda's precious son, the pride of the family, had been thrown to the wolves by his own corporate idol in less than an hour.
Ethan opened a leather folder his lawyer handed him and slid a document across the table toward me.
"Here is our settlement proposal," Ethan said, pointing to the figures printed on the white paper. "Vance Industries will establish a ten-million-dollar private trust fund for Henry Vance’s estate, divided equally among his living heirs—including you, your mother, and your Uncle Mark. In exchange, you assign all historical patent rights to Vance Industries permanently and sign an ironclad non-disclosure agreement."
Ten million dollars.
My mother’s breath caught in her throat. Uncle Mark’s screen went completely silent. That amount of money meant my mother could retire instantly, pay off her mortgage, and never worry about another medical bill for the rest of her life.
Ethan leaned back, adjusting his gold cufflinks. "It's a very generous offer, Jake. It gives your family total financial security, and it allows you to quit crawling around under frozen houses for a living."
I stared at the paper, then looked at Ethan’s arrogant, polished smile.
"You think this is about quitting my job?" I asked softly.
May you like
Ethan blinked, slightly taken aback. "Isn't it? Nobody does manual labor because they want to, Mr. Vance. You do it because you didn't have better options."
I slowly picked up the settlement document, held it in both hands, and ripped it straight down the middle.
