POV : Arthur
I stood by the towering, bulletproof glass windows of my New York estate, staring out at the sprawling grounds. The moonlight cut through the oak trees, casting shadows over the pristine lawns. At eighty-two years old, I had built the Jordan empire from the ground up. I didn't inherit a throne; I forged it. I took a single soot-choked steel mill in the Ohio valley and hammered it into a trillion-dollar global conglomerate. I knew the smell of burning coal, the taste of iron dust, and the exact amount of pressure required to bend a man to my will.
I demanded total, uncompromising perfection from every single facet of my business, and I demanded the exact same standard of excellence from my bloodline.
My grandson, the heir apparent to a century of my life’s work, was curre
