"Kay Sullivan."
I raised a hand to cut him off and turned to Abner Sullivan.
"That's your mother, isn't she?"
He blinked, then lifted his chin, suddenly proud, as if the name itself made him worth more.
"So Mr. Swanson has heard of my mother."
There was no hiding the confidence in his voice.
"Then you already understand. Keep me on, and someday there could be a partnership between your company and the Sullivan Group."
He said it easily, certain of himself.
After all, twenty years on, the Sullivan Group was a long way from its glory days, but it still stood at a height ordinary companies could only stare up at.
"No need."
His face froze.
"I don't want anything from the Sullivans."
I held the resignation letter out to him.
"Now, you can go."
That broke him completely. His face went red, not from shame but from fury.
He'd been the golden child his whole life. No one had ever turned him down in public.
"Fine."
He glared at me and snatched the letter off the desk.
"Mr. Swanson, I'll remember today. I hope you won't live to regret it."
Once he was gone, I sent the other four interns out too.
My assistant clearly hadn't caught up. He was still trying to talk me out of it.
"Mr. Swanson, why would you do this? The Sullivan Group is past its prime, sure, but a wounded giant still outweighs everyone else. Firing the Sullivan heir in front of everyone—that's not a smart move."
"Are you finished?"
My voice was cold enough to shut his mouth in an instant.
"Go make me a copy of every project file Abner Sullivan touched during his internship. Bring it to my office."
That afternoon, the assistant had barely set the files down when the office door was shoved open from the outside.
I looked up. A man came striding in, contempt in every step.
His suit was bespoke, the watch on his wrist worth a downtown apartment.
Bill James.
Twenty years gone, and he'd done well for himself.
"You're the one who runs this company?"
He sat down across from me and tossed his Maybach key onto the desk like he owned the room.
"Who told you that you could fire my son?"
I ignored him, took my time picking up the cup on my desk, and poured myself some tea.
"Mr. James, still as loud as ever. Looks like the years have been kind to you."
That stopped him.
He stared at my face for several seconds, never placing where he'd seen me before.
He didn't remember me at all.
Twenty years ago I was nothing but a scrawny six-year-old, thrown out of that house on a single word from him.
Now I ran a corporation worth billions. There was no way he'd recognize me.
He assumed I only knew him because he'd married into the Sullivan family.
"Since you know who I am, let's skip the games."
His voice was unhurried, layered with the casual arrogance of a man used to being waited on.
"Abner is my son. Having him work at your company is an honor for you. But a man of his caliber is wasted as a regular employee. Put him straight into a management position."
I smiled a little.
"Is he worthy of one?"
His expression shifted.
"What did you say?"
I set down the cup and looked at him, letting each word land.
"I said, he isn't worthy."
He shot to his feet, his face white with rage.
"Listen here, Swanson, don't push your luck. My son working at your company is doing you a favor. Do you have any idea how many partnership deals the Sullivans close in a single year?"
