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For once, he managed to restrain himself. Slowly, they took their places. Jennifer Perez, America Lewis, Dustin Nessman, Raj Pinto. The last to walk in was Cliff. He always sat on George’s immediate left. He seemed more preoccupied than the rest, but then, Cliff had been friends with their father, it must be hitting him harder than the others, Neal assumed.

Neal waited for someone to say something, but no one spoke up. It seemed that perhaps they were waiting for him. He cleared his throat unnecessarily.

“I… thank you all for your support at this time,” he said awkwardly, the words falling flat.

Thankfully, Cliff spoke up, drawing attention away from Neal.

“I called this meeting to discuss several pertinent issues. At such a time as this, having a clear understanding of our future course is necessary. I’m sure George would have wanted us to secure the business.”

Neal stared at Cliff, taken back.

“Umm… I’m sorry,” Neal interrupted, “I don’t understand. What do you mean by ‘secure the business’?”

Cliff’s face was a mask of composure, but the atmosphere in the room had changed. Neal was aware that Harry had tensed beside him. He had a stack of files in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out legal jargon that was foreign to him. Neal looked around the table, at each face that surrounded him and he had the same feeling once again. Like he was falling.

Twenty minutes later, Neal flew out of the conference room throwing curses at everybody in sight. He could hear them call after him, but he ignored them all. He didn’t stop until he was out of the building, under the blinding glare of the noon day sun. He rested his hands on his knees, trying to come to grips with his collapsing reality. He heard someone call his name and he was about to turn around and throw a punch in their face, when he realized it was Harry.

“Neal –"

“What the hell was that, Harry?” he demanded in fury.

“Ninety days?” Neal yelled, unconcerned with the looks he was being thrown. “Ninety days and the board will declare George dead and steal his shares!”

“I’m sorry, Neal… I’ve been poring over the contracts the last few days,” Harry said in defeat. “Legally, everything is sealed up tight. The board has the power to make this decision.”

“We don’t know that he’s dead yet,” Neal all but screamed. “What if we find that he’s alive after the ninety days have passed?”

Harry couldn’t seem to meet Neal’s eyes. “It will be too late by then.”

“Meaning,” Neal said through gritted teeth, “my brother will have lost his company. I will have lost this company. The company our father built up from nothing.”

Harry’s silence was confirmation.

“What about me?” Neal asked desperately. “I have shares in this company.”

“You’re not a major shareholder, you have only ten percent of the stock Neal, which means only ten percent of the vote, and,” Harry said miserably, “the combined strength of the board will bury you.”

Neal shook his head in angry frustration.

“This is a nightmare,” he said forcefully. “So there’s nothing I can do?”

Harry paused a moment. “There is a codicil –"

“Yes,” Neal said impatiently, “tell me.”

“It states that if George had an heir, his stock would automatically transfer to the child in the event of his death,” Harry said mechanically.

“If the stock can pass to George’s child,” Neal spoke fast, “why can’t they pass to me?”

Harry shook his head. “The codicil is very clear. George’s shares’ pass directly to his child, but you would retain control of those shares, until the child in question turns twenty one.”

Neal paused, and looked up. It wasn’t much, but it was more than he had ten minutes ago. He looked appraisingly at Harry, wondering if he should take him into his confidence, but he decided against it almost immediately. Before today, he had thought he could trust Clifford Stanley, too. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He could not save his father. He could not save his brother. He had meandered through life on their shoulders, and they had carried him willingly, but he would not let their business go without a fight.

His resolve hardened to steel and he walked back inside the building, a half formed plan making its way to the forefront of his mind. He heard Harry call after him, but he ignored him and walked on. He knew that what he was thinking was crazy, there was a high probability that it wouldn’t work, but it was all he had.

He was about to lose everything and that gave him courage. He went up to the ninth floor where Cliff’s office was located. His receptionist stood when she saw him and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Oh, Mr. Hargrove,” she said, flustered, “my condolences –"


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