Chapter 3
CAIN
The executive elevator opened as I approached, because of course it did.
The system was programmed to track my driver’s arrival and calculate exactly how long it took me to cross the lobby.
Thirty-eight seconds from vehicle to elevator, give or take two seconds depending on whether I stopped to check my phone.
This morning, I didn’t stop, which meant the doors parted precisely as my hand would have reached for the button.
I stepped inside and the elevator rose without me touching anything.
Forty-seventh floor. The entire level belonged to Ashcroft Group’s executive operations, a space I designed with the same philosophy I apply to everything else: remove the unnecessary until only function remains.
No art on the walls pretending to humanize a corporate environment.
No plants struggling to survive under fluorescent lights and water.
Just clean lines, glass, steel, and the understanding that we were here to work, not to feel comfortable.
As I walked into my office and closed the door, my lights automatically turned on and I noticed my desk was exactly as I left it yesterday evening.
Its clean surface gleamed under the glow, but it remained pretty bare.
I didn’t keep personal items, like family photos, mementos or souvenirs from travel excursions or deals closed in my office.
The space existed for work and not being reminded of my accomplishments at every turn made it easier to remain hungry for the next thing I intended to conquer.
I woke my computer and scanned through the overnight emails that accumulated when I logged off for the night.
Forty-seven new messages, which I sorted through in under four minutes.
Most of what people sent didn’t require a response at all or could be handled by someone on my executive team.
I would say 90 percent of the emails that I skimmed through were seeking validation, reassurance, permission to make decisions they should be able to make themselves.
I’d built an organization that should function without me having to approve every minor detail, but people still sought my input because they were afraid of being wrong.
Fear is useful. It keeps people sharp, prevents them from getting comfortable enough to make stupid mistakes. But it also creates dependency, which I tolerate only to the extent that it serves my purposes.
I worked through three action items before the rest of the world started to wake up and get on with their day. At 6:41, my phone buzzed with a text. It was from Declan Royce, who had worked for me long enough to know the etiquette: no unnecessary niceties, no cryptic phrasing.
Complete.
That was all I needed to know after eleven years of working together.
Declan is not a friend, per se, because I don’t have those.
He’d tell you the same about himself if anyone thought to ask.
Then again, it’s not as if they would because most people don’t know he exists.
What we have is something more durable than friendship and considerably more useful: history.
He knows how I operate. I know what he’s capable of.
The arrangement has never required more explanation than that after all these years.
He handles certain matters for me when I don’t want to handle some things myself and I pay him handsomely for it.
This instance involved someone who made the mistake of positioning himself between me and an overseas deal that needed to be completed. He needed to be relieved of his duties.
Permanently. And Declan had no problem carrying it out.
I picked up my phone and sent one word back:
Good.
Once that was taken care of, I placed the device face down on my desk and got back to the document on my screen.
At 7:32, I heard the soft sound of someone getting settled just outside my office.
I could guarantee it was my assistant arriving right on time, as she had every morning for the past six years.
A few minutes later, there was a gentle knock on my door.
“Come in,” I said, still not looking away from the words on the screen.
My assistant entered quietly, set a cup on the left corner of my desk, then retreated without a word.
I didn’t thank her because that would suggest the action was above expectation, when in reality it was simply what she was paid to do.
I reached for the cup and took a sip. Absolute perfection because I would expect nothing less.
I spent the next hour and a half working through these documents I needed to review before a 9 a.m. meeting, but it was more difficult than I thought it would be given my mind kept drifting back to talking to Sutton one on one for the first time.
Three acquisitions in various stages of completion and one board member who’d been asking too many questions about a subsidiary’s accounting practices.
At 8:55, I closed the files and pulled up the agenda for this meeting.
I debated with myself about showing up several minutes late to the conference room before nixing that idea.
It was time to switch things up to keep people on their toes.
I snatched my phone off my desk along with my coffee and planned on being the first person there to watch everyone as they assembled for this meeting.
I took a seat at the head of the table and waited for my team to file in. I never looked up from my phone. Let them walk in and see me because this didn’t cost me a thing yet it communicated everything.
I wasn’t reading anything important. I already knew everything on this agenda. What I was doing was making a decision that wasn’t on it.
Prescott Vantage.
I’d been circling it for months, deciding when to make my move.
The strategic rationale was sound, the timing was reasonable, the preliminary groundwork already quietly in motion.
It was the kind of acquisition that made sense on paper and I had been treating it accordingly.
I approached it the way you tend to something you will have eventually and feel no urgency about.
That changed last night and now, it was my turn to make my move.
The first one through the door was Sylvia Caldwell, who for some reason always walked like she expected to be called out for doing something she had no business doing.
She was a part of my general counsel team and the mastermind behind at least half of the interventions that had kept Ashcroft Group out of some deep shit in the past decade.
She said, “Good morning,” as she walked past me to find a chair to sit in.
“Morning,” I replied, without looking up. I needed to get my head in the game and stop thinking about my very first in-person encounter with Sutton Prescott.
Within ninety seconds, the rest of the executive team shuffled in and I gave them time to get seated. I let it play for another thirty seconds, then set my phone on the table with a decisive tap. Heads swiveled in my direction and I knew that I had everyone’s attention.
I stood and cleared my throat before I spoke.
“Good morning. Before we get started with the agenda, I wanted to make an announcement and have work pickup on it.” I looked around the room to study everyone’s expressions before I continued.
“Effective immediately, we are moving to close the Prescott Vantage deal ahead of schedule. I want this executed with urgency, precision and zero leaks. Anyone not prepared to deliver shouldn’t be in this room. ”
Sylvia was the first to chime in. “Legal has drafted the initial packet, but we haven’t conducted a full review of their recent international contracts—”
“Accelerate your process,” I cut in. “You’ll have access to every document you need by end of day.” I knew she’d protest, so I gave her nothing to push against.
Her eyes darted around the room but she said nothing. The rest of the team followed suit as I watched their faces take in the news I just dropped.
“Questions?” I asked. I have never believed in the open floor as a tool for team building. All it does is give power to the chronic hand-raisers and those desperate to be seen. But I do like to provide the opportunity just to see who grabs it.
James Chen, my Chief People Officer, chimed in. “There are some personnel redundancy issues with this acquisition. My team will need to coordinate with—”
I shook my head before I interrupted him. “Redundancies will be handled after close. Anything else?”
There were none, of course. “Good,” I said after no one else took advantage of having the floor. “Let’s now work through the agenda.”
It was then that I took my seat once more and leaned back in my chair. I’d originally thought this meeting might be a waste of time, but given the decision I’d just announced, it was more than worth it.
And this was only just the beginning.