Page 10 of Discretion at Its Finest

Raymond was at the head of the table, trying to look composed, but the sweat at his temple betrayed him. Gregory sat stiffly to his right, jaw clenched, eyes ignoring mine as I settled in. It was pathetic, but not anything I wasn’t used to.

He’d spent years feeding everyone lies about his own competence. Seeing me walk back in must’ve felt like a knife in the chest.

A reminder of his failures, of his incompetence. He was bound to have some resentment.

I didn’t bother sitting right away. I let the weight of silence hang in the room, stepping to the window, looking out over the city like it already belonged to me. It almost did.

“…Thank you for joining us, Reid,” one of the gray-haired directors said by way of breaking the silence, his voice too cautious.

I smirked at my reflection in the glass. “Joining you… Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

A few men shifted, their throats clearing, as discomfort thickened in the air. Gregory bristled, opening his mouth, but Raymond shot him a look sharp enough to cut.

“Gregory has outlined the current challenges,” another man began, fumbling with papers, “but we believe—”

“Challenges,” I cut in, finally turning from the window. “That’s a generous word.” I slid into the chair at the far end, opposite Raymond, claiming the space. “Liquidity is strained. Investor confidence is low. Risk exposure is growing by the day. If this were any other firm, I’d call it what it is… a crisis.”

No one dared to argue, though I caught Gregory stiffen.

“What you need isn’t another bandage over an open wound. You need a restructuring. Consolidation of underperforming divisions, divestiture of toxic assets, and renegotiation of debt terms before the quarter closes. Investors don’t want hope, they want certainty. Numbers they can trust.”

I let the corner of my mouth curl, just slightly. “And I can give them that. Along with stability, discipline, growth. Not soon or eventually… within weeks I can turn this around.”

Raymond nodded once, slowly. The directors exchanged glances, thin strands of relief threading through the tension.

Gregory looked at me then, finally, his eyes burning. I held his stare, calm, steady, as though daring him to speak. “Of course,” I added smoothly, folding one hand over the other, “none of this is possible without cooperation and trust.” I let my gaze linger on the men around the table. “If we proceed, it will require complete alignment. That means no leaks to the press. No panicked calls to nervous investors. And no second-guessing my decision-making.” My eyes flicked to Gregory, just long enough to make the vein at his temple throb. “This firm doesn’t have room for mistakes. Not anymore.”

Stepping into my new office, I glanced around the vast space, the space that used to belong to Raymond, then was Gregory’s for a short while but was now mine. The leather chairs, the gleaming desk, the view that swallowed the skyline… all of it reeked of borrowed power. Temporary power. And now it was where it belonged.

The door crashed open behind me.

The footsteps were quick, angry. They tried to sound loud and authoritative, but bled desperation.

“Gregory!” Raymond yelled from the hall, and I turned to see the family’s golden boy unraveling before me.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” His voice cracked with the effort to hold steady. “You think you can just walk back in here, take everything, and—”

Leaning against the desk, I spoke with a shrug, cutting short his pathetic ramblings. “I didn’t walk in and take anything,”I said evenly. “This position was handed to me. Becauseyoucouldn’t hold onto it.”

His face flushed, jaw twitching, hands balled into fists at his side. “I kept this company alive,” Gregory snapped, voice rising.

“Alive?” I repeated, my voice dangerous in its restraint. “You call this alive?”

“Through every failed quarter, every investor breathing down our necks, I was the one here, holding it together. Me, not you. You were gone. You didn’t exist. And now you walk back in like you never left and expect everyone to fall in line?”

I let him rant, let the spit fly as he choked on his own desperation. Then I responded, calm as ever. “They already have.”

He lurched a step closer, shoulders squared like he thought size might make up for competence. Raymond barked his name again, but Gregory ignored him, his fury locked on me.

“You think anyone wants you here? You’re nothing but—”

“Are you sure you want to finish that sentence,little brother?“ I asked, my voice calm, collected in contrast to his.

Gregory’s expression darkened, like the title had insulted him. Nostrils flared in anger, he looked like he wanted to lunge, to put his hands on me, to make me feel the weight of his fury. But he didn’t.

“That’s enough.” Raymond’s voice was finally stern enough to reel in his son.

Gregory stiffened, but his fists stayed clenched at his sides. He glanced between us, like a boy caught misbehaving, before he stormed out, the door rattling against its hinges as it slammed behind him.