Asher glanced down at his wristwatch, counting down the seconds.
It was time. But not quite.
Rick was tense, it was obvious in how he fidgeted uneasily. Asher was too, but he did not let it show.
If there was one thing he had learnt in all his years surviving on scraps, it was how to play a part.
A few executives had gathered to discuss the succession. According to Rick, it was just the preliminary review before the official shareholders meeting.
According to Julian's diary, the executives were the actual sharks and if he let on even a whiff of blood, he would be torn to shreds before making it to the shareholders meeting.
"The executives arrived..." Rick began to say but Asher lifted a hand to stop him.
The executives arrived five minutes ago, exactly ten minutes after the agreed time. But Asher wasn't in the boardroom waiting for them, Julian's journal entry in italics read 'If you arrive after the executives, you're five minutes early. If you arrive before them, the end of the meeting is already decided.'
The journal was a collection of cutthroat business strategies. He had never realised being rich and staying rich was a calculated effort... until now.
Finally, it was time.
The Knox Holdings boardroom was a blend of glass, and silence. With high ceilings, a long conference table and chairs that looked more like sculptures than furniture. It was cold, sleek and far too luxurious than was necessary.
Asher walked in five minutes early.
The board of executives were already there. Twelve men and women dressed in tailored suits. They'd been expecting him to arrive earlier. He knew that. He also knew showing up late was a better answer than any speech.
He adjusted his cuff and nodded once. Rick followed a step behind, holding a thin briefcase.
An older man near the head of the table cleared his throat.
"Mr. Knox," he said. "We were starting to think you weren't coming."
Asher took the seat nearest the head of the table and set his phone down, screen up. "No reason not to," he said. "Though it takes longer to get ready when you wake up with billions in your name."
A few people smiled. Most didn't. He took note of who looked amused and who didn't bother.
"I'm Lyman Creed. Interim Chair of the Board."
"Good to meet you," Asher said. "Though I imagine the 'interim' part might be temporary."
Creed didn't answer.
Rick placed a folder in front of Asher. Asher didn't open it. He didn't need to. He'd spent the entire night studying everything Julian had left him, every profile, every connection, every risk.
He was as ready as he would ever be.
Creed leaned forward. "This meeting is an internal review. We're here to assess your readiness. Your authority becomes permanent only after the shareholders meeting."
Asher gave a small nod. "Understood."
A woman across from him spoke next. Her voice was calm but clipped. "You're twenty-four. What experience do you have running a company like this?"
Asher met her gaze. "None. But I know what this company is, who's been bleeding it dry, and how to stop it. Julian left me everything because he trusted me to handle that. That's what I'm here to do."
There was a long pause.
"And what makes you qualified to do any of this?" She pressed.
The answer came naturally. "Julian's will."
---
"In a recent gathering of executives of Knox Holdings, formerly known as Marrick Towers, Asher Knox, CEO of Knox Holdings, attained the highest votes and thereby retained his position pending the official shareholders meeting. The twenty-four-year-old, whose net worth skyrocketed overnight, is now a person of interest."
"Though many still question..."
The television cut off abruptly.
Emmy's mouth remained wide agape, like the silence hadn't quite registered yet.
Asher cleared his throat and looked down at the floor tiles. He was suddenly very interested in the way it looked beneath his sneakers. He winced as another patient tossed him a not-so-subtle side-eye, followed by another.
"You'd think a hospital waiting room came with a no-gawking clause." He muttered under his breath.
After what must have been an eternity, Emmy finally blinked. "That's you."
"I noticed."
She leaned in, lowering her voice but not her volume. "Asher, they're talking about you like you're some kind of celebrity. And you're sitting here in a hoodie, looking like you fell off the wrong side of your bed."
He didn't reply. The hoodie was intentional. So was the hood pulled halfway over his face. So was the early appointment to see Emmy. What he hadn't accounted for was the morning news airing stockholder recaps in the hospital lobby.
Emmy leaned back, her eyes still wide. "So, what now? You're too busy being the protege of some dead rich tycoon to visit?"
Asher winced guiltily. It had been over a week since he last visited Emmy in the hospital. He had never been away for this long, no matter how busy he got at the construction site.
Somehow, his life had become so demanding.
The succession situation was seemingly settled. At least for now and he had given it a few days hoping the media would move on from it.
They hadn't.
"You'll be moved to the VIP ward later today." Asher murmured.
"After a few weeks, if you're stable enough, they might let you come home."
Emmy didn't look hopeful. "Where's home now?"
Asher grimaced. "I'm still... figuring that one out."
A flash by the corner of his eyes alerted him to the arrival of a ghost mail. He caught it, shoving it into his pocket.
He had quickly learnt he was the only one who could see it.
"I'll..." He trailed off. Emmy fixed him with a weird look. "Be right back."
He didn't wait for Emmy to ask. He just stood and walked out, ghost mail burning a hole in his pocket.