Summons IV
628 Words
Gnnar POV - Summons IV
My office was bigger than it needed to be.
Corner suite.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
A view of downtown Concord that looked a lot more impressive in the company brochure than it did in real life.
Still, it was mine.
Mostly.
Technically it belonged to Ashwood Industries.
Everything did.
But my name sat on the frosted glass outside.
Regional Operations Manager.
Not bad for twenty-six.
Especially considering half the guys I graduated with were still selling used cars or posting gym selfies for a living.
I leaned back in my chair and looked around the office.
A framed photo of me shaking hands with Keenan Ashwood sat on the bookshelf.
Beside it were two state championship trophies and my high school football MVP plaque.
People liked to joke about that.
I told them it was important to remember where you came from.
The truth was simpler: winning felt good, being remembered felt great.
A sharp knock interrupted my thoughts.
Before I could answer, the door opened.
My secretary, Denise, stepped inside. She looked nervous. Never a good sign.
"Mr. Hastings, I'm so sorry, but this gentleman insisted on seeing you."
A man in a charcoal suit followed her into the office. Silver hair. Perfect posture. Expression completely blank.
I frowned.
"Denise, what part of 'I don't take meetings without appointments' was unclear?"
Her face flushed.
"He pushed right by me, sir! I'm sorry."
I sighed.
"Just shut the door on your way out."
Denise left without another word.
The second the door clicked shut, I turned my attention back to the man.
He didn't look intimidated. Most people were.
I stood and straightened my tie.
"Who are you?"
No response. Instead, he reached inside his jacket and withdrew an envelope.
Cream-colored. Gold embossing. Red wax seal.
My irritation vanished instantly.
Ashwood.
I knew that crest better than my own reflection.
The man held the envelope out. Waiting.
I took it automatically. The paper felt expensive. Of course it did. Keenan had always believed presentation mattered. Every detail. Every interaction. Every gesture.
"What is this?"
Silence.
A muscle tightened in my jaw.
For years, I'd watched people trip over themselves for Keenan Ashwood.
Executives.
Politicians.
Reporters.
They all wanted something from him.
I never had to ask. He'd chosen me. Mentored me. Trusted me. Called me the son he never had.
I broke the seal. Opened the letter. Read the first line.
Mr. Gunnar Hastings,
You are hereby summoned to Ashwood Estate.
A grin spread across my face before I could stop it.
I kept reading.
Date.
Time.
Instructions to tell no one.
Typical Keenan. Everything important had to feel like a secret.
I checked the signature at the bottom.
Printed.
Keenan Ashwood
My mind started filling in the blanks immediately.
A promotion? A transfer? Maybe a corporate position at headquarters? Hell, maybe he was finally ready to hand me a division of my own! No more of this "Regional Operations" bullshit.
The old man had always played the long game.
I looked up at the messenger. The stranger gave a slight nod, as if confirming I'd read the letter. Then he turned and walked out.
Just like that.
No explanation. No instructions.
Just an invitation.
I crossed to the window and watched him climb into a black SUV waiting below. The vehicle pulled away from the curb and disappeared into traffic.
Gone.
My reflection stared back at me in the glass: tailored suit, perfect hair, state championship ring.
Regional manager at twenty-six. The kind of guy people envied. The kind of guy who always won.
I looked down at the letter again.
Whatever this was, I knew one thing for certain.
Keenan Ashwood hadn't forgotten about me.
That meant I was still in the game.
- Writer
