Chapter 3 #2
“I understand the stakes, Dad.” I’m pressing my thumb and finger against the bridge of my nose, but my polished demeanor hides my bubbling tension. “I’ve reviewed the financials, the zoning challenges, and the cultural preservation concerns. The team and I have addressed every angle—”
“Don’t lecture me on due diligence, boy!” he snaps. “You must close this deal. We cannot afford hesitation or incompetence.”
My voice is calm but firm when I respond. “I’m not hesitating. I’m in Manhattan, negotiating additional financing to ensure the project remains within the budget, aren’t I? We have stakeholders to reassure, and I assure you, I’m handling it.”
“Stakeholders?” Dad scoffs. “You’re beginning to sound like the boardroom sycophants. Leadership requires boldness, not coddling.”
I feel my jaw tighten. The critique certainly isn’t new, but it still stings.
“With all due respect, I’m the one running this project. And I will close it my way.”
A razor sharp silence falls on the line, and after a long pause, Dad clicks his tongue. “Just remember, Greggory.” His voice has softened, but there is still an edge. “Your position is a privilege, not an entitlement. Do not disappoint me.”
The call disconnects, leaving me alone in a gilded cage.
I slide my phone into my blazer pocket and rip off my tie.
“No tie today, lad,” I tell myself and I toss it into the open bag.
I take a deep breath and glance at the baby grand piano in the corner.
Its lid is shut, and has been since I arrived.
I consider sitting down to play for a moment, to let the music drown out Dad’s voice in my head.
But instead, I turn my attention back to the skyline.
Just like the skyscrapers that stretch out across the city, I am poised and controlled.
But beneath that, I feel the weight of expectation, the tension of hiding myself, and gnawing loneliness.
In an hour, I’m meeting with investors thirty-three floors below.
I’ll present a flawless pitch, and inch closer to the deal Dad has demanded.
Forty-five stories above the city in Archeon Global’s New York office, I sit at the end of a polished glass conference table.
I’ve arrived early to review my notes, for the third time today, and I'm thankful the room’s two-story ceiling allows me to breathe easy as I sit in the bright natural light.
My phone call with Dad is still fresh in my mind, and his voice echoes.
Your position is a privilege, not an entitlement.
Dad is right, the stakes are high here, and I know that securing the trust of the investors who would surely arrive at any moment would be critical to pushing forward.
Do not disappoint me.
The door to the conference room opens in front of me with a subtle click of the latch, its hinges gliding smoothly. “Mr. Harwell,” a nondescript administrator announces. “They’re here.”
I stand and straighten my jacket, adjusting the cuff of a sleeve.
“Breathe,” I say to myself as I walk toward the door just as three suits enter from the hallway.
“Good afternoon,” I greet them smiling, extending my hand, already knowing who they were.
My notes included a detailed dossier of each investor.
“I’m Greggory Harwell. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. ”
Evelyn Porter takes my hand first. According to my preparation, she’s a sharp, silver-haired real-estate magnate known for her attention to detail and no-nonsense approach to business.
Her blood red pantsuit presents her as an apex predator, ready to strike at any moment.
“Hello, Greggory,” she replies with a graceful indifference. “Thank you for coming all this way.”
I’m unable to distinguish her intent, so I simply smile and say, “It’s my pleasure,” and move to her right to shake hands with Daniel Cho.
“How’s it going?” Daniel’s casual demeanor immediately disarms me.
“W—well, thanks,” I stutter, kicking myself at cracking so early. “Yourself?”
“Oh, can’t complain, dude! Stocks are high, portfolios are strong… What else is there!”
Daniel, who was Forbes Magazine’s top tech entrepreneur last year, had recently decided to branch into high-end property investment. His analytical mind was keen, allowing him to ask the important questions.
Then there was Kenneth Franklin. A truly seasoned investor in luxury development.
He had a reputation that preceded him for playing hardball during negotiations, but would no doubt secure what I needed for this project.
“Mr. Harwell,” he says as he shakes my hand solidly.
“I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve put together for us.
And knowing your father,” he smiles while raising a bushy gray eyebrow, “well, I imagine he’s beyond pleasantries. ”
The heat rises in my cheeks, and I wonder if they can all see.
“Well,” I begin, clearing my throat. “You know Dad, though demanding, he expects the best.”
“That sounds just about spot on!” Kenneth chuckles as he pulls out a seat.
“Have you worked with his father before?” Evelyn asks as she strides to a seat opposite him.
“Oh, yes,” he grumbles. “Cost me a lot of money, too.”
I swallow hard and move to the head of the table, but I don’t sit. For a moment, you can hear a pin drop.
“Got it all back, though!” Kenneth bellows, clapping his hands together as he leans back in his chair. I can't help but take a short breath of relief.
“Back in the fifties,” he continues as Daniel takes a seat next to him, “ol’ Harrison wanted me to go in with him on this building in Mexico City.
Well, it was expensive in part because so much went into making it ‘earthquake proof’.
” He adds dramatic air quotes as he says it.
“Well, of course, that cost a pretty penny. Then, in fifty-seven, a seven-point-something earthquake struck.”
“Did it stand?” Daniel asks.
“Hell yes it did! They didn’t think it could.
And then again,” he continues, “in eighty-five an eight-point-something quake leveled Mexico City. But our tower stood strong. So when Harrison came to me about Aria Vista, the tallest earthquake resistant skyscraper in Tokyo,” he pauses as if for dramatic effect.
He looked from Evelyn to Gregg, “I went all in.”
“Well, well,” Evelyn acknowledges, as she opens her leather portfolio and poises a pen over a legal pad. “Let’s hope young Mr. Harwell brings the same gusto.” She stares me down like prey.
The same gusto, I think as I tap a button on the sleek control panel on the desk in front of me.
The room grew dark as the window shades behind me lowered along with a projection screen.
Deep breath. You’ve got this. I take a sip of water, swallowing hard, and I can hear my pulse thrumming in my ears as Evelyn, Daniel, and Kenneth look up at me.
I can feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me.
They add to the weight of Dad’s expectations.
The weight of my own. The comparison to my dad feels like an insidious monster waiting to grasp my neck at the first misstep.
But I straighten my shoulders and slow my breathing.
I don’t bring my father’s gusto, I remind myself. I bring my own.
“I’d like to begin by taking a moment to thank you all for taking the time to meet,” I say with measured confidence. “The Wilmont Estate project represents an unprecedented opportunity, not only for yourselves and Archeon Global Developments, but for the future of London’s luxury property market.”
Turning over my shoulder, I begin my presentation with the click of a button.
The screen comes to life with artists' renderings showcasing the proposed development. A perfect blend of historic preservation and modern luxuries scrolls across the screen and fades in and out of view. Wilmont Estate was going to make them millions, all nestled in one of London’s most coveted districts, Belgravia.
“The concept seems strong,” Evelyn ponders, as she looks past me. “But let’s talk numbers. What's the return of investment for us?”
I click my remote and advance to the next slide and reveal charts and graphs of detailed financial forecasts.
“We expect a twelve percent return in the first-year post-completion,” I answer confidently.
“We also anticipate growth potential tied to the property’s unique positioning,” I continue while they scribble notes.
“We believe Wilmont combines heritage with modern demand, which will ensure long-term value. Additionally, we’ve secured commitments from high-profile tenants to anchor the most prominent retail spaces, including Burberry, and Marks & Spencer. ”
“I like the idea of blending old and new,” Daniel chimes in, leaning back in his chair. “But there’s already so much competition in London’s luxury market. What makes this one different?”
I prepared for this very question, and I smile wide.
“I’m glad you asked. It’s true, the market is incredibly competitive, and some may say over-saturated.
But this development is designed to stand out.
Beyond the aesthetics, we at Archeon are integrating green technology to make the space carbon neutral to appeal to a growing demographic of eco-conscious clients.
Wilmont will also feature a private members’ club with curated experiences to create a sense of exclusivity. ”
“What about the cultural preservation concerns?” Kenneth questions, crossing his arms. “London councils can be… let’s just say particular about historic properties. Lots of red tape.”
I nod my head in agreement, acknowledging the challenge.
“That is why we’ve partnered with London’s leading preservation consultancy.
Our plans not only retain historical integrity but enhance it by highlighting original architectural features.
We’ve already secured preliminary approvals, and our approach has received positive feedback from local committees. ”