Chapter 3 #3
The three investors exchange glances, seemingly impressed by the project and presentation, but I can tell they weren’t quite ready to commit.
This is it, lad. Your time to seal the deal.
“Look, I understand that this is a significant investment,” I surmise, my tone shifting from presenter to quiet confidence.
“But Archeon Global doesn’t just develop properties.
We create legacies. This project isn’t just about profit margins.
It’s about leaving a mark on one of the world’s most iconic cities.
And I believe, with your partnership, we can do that. ”
After a brief pause, Evelyn smiles faintly at me. “Well, I think you’re good, Mr. Harwell. You’re passionate and prepared, I like that. It’s clear you believe in this project. I’m sold.”
“Thank you, Ms. Porter,” I reply gratefully.
“Count me in, too,” Daniel joins enthusiastically. “I want to see how this turns out.”
I nod at him with gratitude, then smile at Kenneth, his arms still crossed.
“I’ll admit, you’ve made a compelling case, young man,” he says. “I’m on board, but don’t let me down.”
Those last words are eerily similar to my father’s, but they lacked the venom, and I exhale softly, relief washing over me like a cool wave. I allow a prideful grin to stretch across my face. “Thank you, all of you, truly. I promise you won’t regret this.”
Over the next few minutes, the four of us sign collections of documents, shake hands, and offer each other the pleasantries of congratulations.
Alone in the conference room, I command the window shades to rise, and squint in the bright light.
I sit for a few moments, relishing and taking in the victory.
Standing up, I walk to the window, looking at nothing in particular.
This victory doesn’t solely lie in the deal, it was proof to me that I could thrive under pressure, despite Dad’s looming shadow. This success was mine and mine alone.
“Yes!” I shout as I jump and pump my fist through the air as if I was the MVP in the Premier League.
“You should celebrate!” Kenneth burst out laughing from the doorway.
“I beg your pardon.” I gasp, shock and surprise taking over. “I—I thought I was alone,” I stammer, attempting to compose myself.
“No apology necessary,” he raises his hands. “You did good in here, kid.”
I allow myself to smile, and I let out a humble laugh and accept his praise.
“You got time for lunch before your flight across the pond?” Kenneth asks. “I’d like to get your input on a project.”
Kenneth and I sit at a private corner table against a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Central Park.
The panoramic view of the park below is a peaceful backdrop to the hum of the city that is made distant and muted by the thick glass.
The restaurant around us glows with minimalist lighting, polished dark wood floors, and low murmurs of conversation that somehow make the bright, late afternoon feel intimate.
Servers move with an effortless glide through crisp white linens, topping off wine glasses and delivering dishes that look more like art than food.
“You know, this view reminds me why I love this city,” Kenneth says, swirling his scotch as he stares out at the expansive city. “So much power condensed into one place. It’s intoxicating, don’t you think?”
I lean back, having just taken in the soft gardenia and lavender scent from the centerpiece, a smirk tugged at my lips. “I suppose it depends on how long you’ve been breathing it in. I think sometimes it could feel suffocating.”
“That’s what separates the leaders from the followers, Greggory.
” Kenneth chuckles, and he sat down his glass to thumb through a summary of the deal he’d signed a few hours before.
“The ones who thrive here, they don’t just breathe it in, they own it.
And I see that in you. A man ready to own the room. ”
I glance around the restaurant. “And I imagine this is where deals like that get made?”
“You’d be surprised how many zeros have been added to my contracts at this very table.
” He grins, tapping the table with a thick finger enthusiastically.
“But I have to hand it to you, Greggory, and give credit where it’s due.
If anyone had doubts about whether you’ve got your father’s knack for business, I’d say you’ve silenced them. ”
I take a sip of water, the lemon wedge brushing ice as I tilted the glass. “Thank you, Kenneth. I’ve worked hard to make this project a success. I appreciate your support.”
“You’ve done more than deliver,” he observes. “You’ve got a vision. Something that our businesses need desperately.” Kenneth took a quick sip of scotch and shook his head. “A pair of young eyes, willing to take risks? It’s rare.”
“Well,” I concede with a smile, “I’m sure my father would argue it’s just the training he drilled into me.”
“Respectfully, I call bullshit.” Kenneth laughs, leaning back into the smooth leather chair. “Your father, bless him, has built quite an empire. Harrison is… a force, there’s no denying. But even the wall of a hurricane will weaken eventually.”
I fold my arms. “And? You think that empire will fall?”
“Archeon…” He pauses, planning his next words with care. “Archeon is a legacy company, Greggory, and there are two truths about legacies.”
“Go on.”
“One. They’re singular, and Archeon will always be your father’s. So where does that leave you?”
I lean forward, interlacing my fingers on the table.
“Two,” Kenneth continues with a smirk. “Legacies stagnate without fresh blood.”
Tranquil and deafening at once, the soft clink of cutlery and the sizzle from the open kitchen fills the silence between us.
A server approaches. “Gentleman, may I offer you a dessert menu?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.” The server steps away as if they were never there.
A beat.
“With respect, Kenneth, I believe Archeon is in a powerful position. We’ve adapted well to market changes, and my father has—”
“Oh, I respect Harrison,” he cut in, raising his hand in surrender. “I always have. But Archeon’s model is an old guard. That’s fine for now, but it won’t last forever. You, on the other hand, have something your father doesn’t. Adaptability. A willingness to think differently.”
A flicker of curiosity cuts through my caution. “And what exactly are you getting at?”
Kenneth lowers his voice. “I’m offering you a chance to step out of his shadow.”
I straighten, my head angling slightly as I studied him.
“There’s a project I’ve been keeping close to the chest,” he explains. “An exclusive development in Paris. With Regal Crown Properties.”
“Regal Crown?” I narrow my eyes. “They’re a direct competitor to Archeon.”
“Exactly. And they have very deep pockets.” Kenneth’s grin widens. “I’m working as a senior advisor with them now. They’re looking for someone to lead this Paris project. Someone with heritage development experience and a fresh perspective.”
I turn toward the park, letting my gaze settle on the treetops. “I’m flattered, truly. But my father would—”
“Your father would understand better than anyone.” Kenneth leans in. “I’m not asking you to betray him. This is business, plain and simple. If you can make this Paris project a success, Regal Crown is prepared to make you a Partner.”
My head snaps back to him, eyes wide despite myself.
“You’d have the autonomy you’re itching for, Greggory.”
A faint piano melody drifts across the room, light and reflective. I exhale slowly. “And if I fail?”
“You won’t.” His smile sharpens. “I've seen you work. Not just on Wilmont, but other projects too. You get results, and this project will take grit. We’re looking at complex zoning issues, resistance from preservation councils, and the French bureaucracy. But nothing you can’t handle.”
“This is a lot,” I admit, leaning back in my chair. “I’m loyal to Archeon. To my father’s legacy.”
“It’s his legacy.” Kenneth’s tone is soft, almost parental. “Loyalty is admirable, but don’t let it chain you. You have the potential to be more than just an heir to Harrison Harwell’s throne. This is your chance to carve out something that’s yours. Just think about it. Take your time.”
The plush leather seat of the black town car envelops me as I stare out the window.
Manhattan’s endless sprawl blurs past and gives way to the East River as we cross the Queensboro Bridge.
The city always feels like it is watching and judging, its weight pressing against my chest. Not just New York, but London too.
I lean back and close my eyes, longing to be back in my tiny sanctuary on Egerton Crescent.
Better yet, the stillness and rugged wilderness of my family’s estate, Strathwyn Castle, in Lochaven, Scotland.
A long walk through the dense pine forest sounds exactly like the only thing that can quiet my thoughts.
Kenneth’s words echo in my head, tumbling over and over like a Rubik’s cube I can’t solve.
Step out of your father’s shadow.
The phrase lingers like a spark beneath my ribs.
I’ve heard it before from colleagues, from my best mate, even my own voice whispering it late at night when doubts creep in.
But never had it landed the way it did until today.
Kenneth wasn’t wrong, Archeon Global is my father’s domain, a kingdom built brick by brick with Dad’s blood, sweat, and obsessive ambition.
I’d grown up in its shadow, always a prince in waiting but never the king.
A chance to carve my own path.
The offer is tempting, I can’t deny that.
A project in Paris and a chance to make my own decisions without the constant pressure of my father’s expectations.
The autonomy alone! But what would it cost?
My father is proud, traditional, and wildly unyielding.
With certainty, he’d see my departure as betrayal, and it would probably destroy what little remained of our already fragile relationship.
Could I live with that? The only comfort in the thought was the possibility of freedom, both professionally and personally.
I shift in my seat and glance back at the skyline shrinking behind me. My mind drifts back to the meeting I’d had earlier in the day with the investors. I had proven myself then, that was my victory, not Dad’s. But did one victory make me a leader?
Is this what I want, or am I only trying to prove a point? To him? To me?
The car wound its way through late-afternoon traffic, turning off the Long Island Expressway, then onto the Grand Central Parkway, before merging with the Van Wyck.
JFK Airport begins to rise from the chaos of taxis and honking cars.
Planes roar overhead and the driver makes the final turn into the Celestial SkyPort.
The terminal’s sleek curves, clean lines, and glass walls stretch into the sky.
At the curb, my driver pulls out my suitcase and wishes me safe travels. I mutter a distracted thank you before I step into the bright and airy lobby. The soaring cantilevered ceiling and soft afternoon light do little to settle my thoughts though, and my mind churns from check-in through security.
On the concourse, I walk briskly through crowds of travelers sipping coffee, scrolling through phones, and wrangling luggage.
My own briefcase thumps lightly against my leg with every tense step.
If I take Kenneth’s offer, I risk everything, I think to myself.
If I stay at Archeon, I’m trapped. Either way, something breaks, so what do I gain?
That thought hit a nerve just as I reach the entrance to the Aurora Borealis Lounge.
Inside the vestibule, a blown-glass light fixture swirls in blues and greens like the Northern Lights.
The hostess scans my boarding pass with a bright smile and directs me to the elevator, and when the doors slide shut, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
I change out of my suit in a large restroom, and pull on a gray Chelsea Football Club pullover, jeans, white trainers, then find an armchair by the windows and sink into it.
Outside, planes taxi and take off against a backdrop of a slow-sinking sun.
A server places a flute of champagne on my table, but I barely notice.
My gaze drifts to a family a few tables over. A father helps his son and daughter draw and colour while their mother browses a menu. When the boy jumps up and wraps his arms around his dad, something sharp and unexpected cuts through my chest.
Dad never had time for things like that. Always too busy building an empire.
Is that who I’m becoming? Or worse, have I already become him? Am I running, chasing success, and forgetting to live?
I reach for the champagne, but my hand stalls, then falls back. Kenneth respects my talent. He sees something in me Dad refuses to acknowledge. But would it feel like an achievement if I abandoned the foundation he built? I rub my temples and close my eyes.
Maybe it’s not about Archeon or Regal Crown. Maybe it’s about figuring out who I want to be. Beyond my name, beyond Dad’s shadow.
The server returns with a menu, and I finally manage a polite smile. What I need now is clarity, a chance to separate his expectations from my own ambition.
Maybe the flight ahead would give me the time to think. But for now, I result to lean back and let the soft hum of the lounge wash over me, and allow myself a momentary reprieve.