Chapter 3 CHA

TWO WEEKS AGO-

"And don't swipe any of my shit," Glenn Blackwood grumbled as he strode towards the door. He was used to doing what he wanted, and being a billionaire, he also realized many folks enjoyed swiping. Checking his phone, he saw he had a call from his dad.

Without a second glance back at the hipped cleaner, he left his Ethan's Skyline Loft and walked to the elevator.

At 38, all people would have been expecting him to settle down, start a family. The Blackwood entity was a multi-billion-dollar corporation expanding into millions of other outlets, from movies, beauty, to the news, and even competitive commercials. They had it all. Whatever he wanted to do, all he needed to do was raise the money and play.

He'd been rising up the company ladder since he was sixteen. His father wouldn't let him quit school, and so he had no choice but to finish high school, college graduation, and then perform every single menial job at the company, and he'd risen his way to a seat on the board. It was good that his own name automatically put him on the list too, as long as his dad was satisfied enough to grant it to him. His dad still owned the entire company, and eventually he retired, Glenn would be running the entire operation. He couldn't wait. He liked the company itself. He enjoyed the lifestyle that he'd acquired. The money. With women who would be more than happy to meet him on a date with one button click.

"What's up, Daddy," he said to himself, smiling.

Harrison Blackwood hadn't been Daddy for years, but Glenn was still close to his father, whereas other men and women his age were.

"I want you in the office. We need to talk."

"Is this about next week's family picnic? Don't worry. I've got it all covered."

"I'll talk to you in the office, Glenn, not a moment sooner."

The phone went dead.

He frowned. Why would his father hang up on him? Why was he so furious? The movie he'd sunk six months' money into had just broken box office records and was actually being greenlit for a sequel.

Massaging his temple, he walked definitively to his car, eased into the driving seat, switched on the engine, failing to register his usual delight at the sound and vibration, and drove out of the car park. In the city streets, he joined the never-ending queue of cars. His father's words haunted him. What was wrong this time?

Drumming on the steering wheel with his fingers, he turned up the radio to some energetic dance tune and felt sick. No matter how many times he attempted to think about it, he could not come up with any reason at all as to why his dad would be upset. Clearly, he had gotten the entire thing wrong.

He hadn't been able to recall when his dad had ever been this angry. No, actually he'd never seen him that angry.

He's got to be reading this the wrong way. Next week was his dad's sixty-fifth birthday, and to mark the occasion, they were having a party with friends and family over in the Blackwood Estate built on acres of land with a pool, tennis court, and loads of other goodies.

Once he drove up to the parking lot of his father's building, the Blackwood Tower, he went straight to the elevator and did not even pause at his desk to park, going all the way to the top floor. It was well known his father had a phobia of heights but had still demanded his office be on the top floor, in order to show his staff demonstrating bravery in the face of fear was something worth rewarding.

He walked into the office and winked at his dad's secretary, Sylvia Jenkins. She was the first person his dad interviewed when he began his business, and she'd been with him since then. She was also his mother's good friend. They were all a pleasant bunch and had a good relationship.

"Go right in," Sylvia said. "Want coffee?"

"Love one."

He rapped first. Years of politeness acquired through his early minor misdemeanors wasn't easy to lose.

"Come in," his father replied. "You arrived in good time."

"I was already heading in the direction of the office when you called," he replied, taking a seat opposite his father.

"Sylvia getting you a cup of coffee?"

"I think so."

"Good. Good." Harrison Blackwood removed his glasses, which he used to read over the computer, and gave him his entire attention.

He hated this.

His father wouldn't take the conversation further until Sylvia sat down and served them coffee. This was a staring contest, and the longer he stayed seated, he knew his father was angry. It was the characteristic twitch of the eye that gave it away.

He waited.

The minutes ticked by.

The gentle rap on the door and the insistence of his father followed. Sylvia entered with two glasses, leaving them to themselves. The door closed.

"Tell me what this is." Harrison poured the paper onto the table.

He hadn't had a chance to read the morning papers. He sat forward and didn't have to guess twice.

It was there, in good technicolor, his new escapades. He'd spent time with some girls. They'd all enjoyed themselves. A few of the girls had taken drugs. He hadn't. He never had used the goddamn stuff, but from his father's face, he didn't imagine he believed him.

"It was just a little fun."

"No, this isn't fun. You're forty years old. You know every single member of the board is a settled, married man."

"Yeah, and I bet most of them have a couple of mistresses in the closet too." He snorted.

"No, they don't," he said. "Listen, Glenn, I know you think you can do whatever the devil you want and everything's going to be all right. Carousing, disrespecting board members, even pissing off the press so that they're after your blood."

"Dad, it will blow over."

"I'd fantasized about one day making some retirement announcement. Not some day, on my sixty-fifth birthday. I've turned this into a goldmine, and I know in the right hands it will be taken care of properly. You were supposed to be that man."

"Wait? Were?"

"Glenn, you're spoiled. You have this sense of entitlement complex that's turned you into the cocky billionaire. No one likes cocky people."

"The media fabricate crap all the time."

"You're profane and you want everyone to bow down to you. That is never again going to happen. I built this company as a company for families, Glenn. Men and women who would get to go home to their families each and every night knowing this company had their backs. Having a bad night at home, needing an extra day, no problem. We're here to help. I wanted to be the kind of company people want to work for and love coming to work. Where loyalties are never in doubt because to lose a spot in my company would be to lose themselves. I don't hand out ultimatums, I don't like them, but this is one step too far. I will not resign and leave my company to a party animal who doesn't have a clue what family really is."

"One terrible article-"

"Ten lousy articles this month, Glenn. I've read all about your exploits, and I don't approve. I never have, so that's why I've come to my conclusion. Until you familiarize yourself with the meaning of the word family. Until you acquire a woman or a man to settle down with, marry, have children, and prove that you can earn your place right here behind this desk, I won't retire, and your seat will no longer be automatic at the board."

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

"I am."