The Offer
477 Words
3:15PM.
I was in a numbers war when Mara walked in without knocking.
“Visitor,” she said. “No appointment. Says you’ll see him.”
“Who?”
“Elias Vance.”
My pen stopped.
Elias Vance. My father’s brother. The uncle who signed the papers to put me in foster care at age 10.
“Send him in,” I said.
Victor was at my door in 10 seconds. “No.”
“He’s family,” I said.
“He’s a snake,” Victor said. “I’m staying.”
“Fine. But you sit. You don’t speak. Unless I ask.”
He did. Arms crossed. Watching.
Elias walked in. Silver hair. Expensive suit. Same eyes as my father.
“Lexa,” he said. “You look like her.”
“My mother?”
“No,” he said. “You. At 10. Before we… made mistakes.”
I didn’t offer him a seat.
“What do you want, Uncle?”
He set a briefcase on my desk. Opened it.
*Cashier’s check: $50,000,000.*
“Buyout,” he said. “DeMarco Holdings. Your shares. 50% of the new venture too.”
Victor didn’t move. But I felt him.
“You’re buying me out?” I laughed. “18 years ago I was $10. Today I’m $50M?”
“Inflation,” Elias said. “And you’re family. We take care of our own.”
“Funny,” I said. “Where were you when I was sleeping on Bench Four?”
He had no answer.
I closed the briefcase. “No.”
“Lexa, think—”
“I did,” I said. “For 18 years. My answer is no.”
He stood. “Your father sent me.”
Victor spoke for the first time. “Then tell him she’s not for sale.”
Elias looked at him. “And you are?”
“Her COO,” Victor said. “Her partner. Her wall.”
Elias left. Briefcase and all.
Silence.
“Why did you say that?” I asked.
“Which part?” Victor said.
“‘Her wall.’”
“Because you are,” he said. “And walls need someone to stand behind them.”
I looked at the door. At the $50M he didn’t blink at.
“Victor,” I said. “If they come with $100M next—”
“I’ll be here at $200M,” he said.
I nodded. Once.
My phone buzzed.
*Unknown: _She won’t sell. Try harder. – D*_
D. Dad.
He was watching.
I deleted it.
“Cancel the rest of my day,” I said.
“Where are you going?” Victor asked.
“To Bench Four,” I said. “I need to remember why $50M isn’t enough.”
He didn’t stop me.
“Pick you up at 6,” he said. “Partner’s orders.”
- Writer
