Chapter 5 - CHARLES MERCER
Charles Mercer arrived at the restaurant an hour later.
Dylan called him.
Not because Jacob demanded it.
Because Dylan wanted the story killed quickly.
Charles walked in furious.
Then saw Jacob.
Stopped.
Recognition came slowly.
“Palmer.”
Jacob nodded.
Charles sat.
No handshake.
Chloe expected denial.
Instead Charles said:
“I remember the Lakeshore files.”
Brooke stared.
Jacob did too.
“You remember?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you answer me?”
Charles frowned.
“What letter?”
Jacob laughed.
Of course.
Charles’s general counsel at the time had received three communications from Jacob after the acquisition.
One was logged.
Two were marked:
employment grievance — seller matter.
Charles never saw them.
Then Charles said:
“We corrected the material accounting issues before closing.”
Jacob answered:
“Some.”
“Enough for the auditors.”
“Enough for the transaction.”
The distinction was technical.
Important.
Then Charles looked at Brooke.
“You’re his daughter?”
She nodded stiffly.
Charles finally understood why everyone was there.
Then he looked at Dylan.
“And you?”
Dylan said nothing.
Chloe answered:
“He’s sleeping with her.”
Charles closed his eyes.
Not shocked.
Disappointed.
Then he said the worst possible thing.
“Handle the marriage privately.”
Chloe laughed.
“There it is.”
Charles looked at her.
“What?”
“Your family religion.”
Private.
Contain.
Protect the name.
Manage the story.
Jacob looked at Chloe.
Exactly.
Then Charles became defensive.
“Do not compare a marital affair to a corporate acquisition twenty years ago.”
“I’m not.”
Chloe looked at Dylan.
“I’m comparing the instinct.”
When something threatens the image:
filter it.
Delay it.
Send it to counsel.
Let someone else decide what the principal needs to know.
Dylan stared at his father.
Then at Jacob.
May you like
For the first time, the old homeless man did not look irrelevant.
He looked like a warning from the future.
