Apocalypse: Regression

Nick, who was used to his more personable driver, Will, was actually a little disappointed that he had to sit in silence for the entire drive as the fancy escort Nick had been ordered by Darleen took him to his destination.

Maybe I should have called Will, Nick thought as he stared out the window. It somehow felt like he was back in middle school, looking out the bus window and contemplating the meaning of life, as Darleen’s chauffeur drove out of town towards Evelynne's private estate, the sun making a slow rise to its peak and casting a warm golden glow over the landscape. The road wound its way through rolling hills, dotted with lush greenery and vibrant wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze.

As they turned off the main road onto a narrow path, flanked by towering oak trees. The driveway stretched out before them, a shimmering ribbon of polished cobblestones, lined on either side by meticulously manicured lawns that seemed to go on for miles.

The sleek black sedan glided to a stop. Nick felt the vehicle's engine shut off, its purr dying down. Before he could reach for the car door, it swung open with a smooth motion, courtesy of the driver.

Stepping onto the sun-warmed cobblestone drive, Nick's gaze swept upward, taking in the imposing structure that stretched toward the sky. Its design borrowed from the grandiose estates of America's Gilded Age—imposing stone facades, intricate wrought-iron work, and expansive windows whose gilted designs caught the light in a sparkling dance.

“Would you like me to accompany you for the negotiations? The driver and I are both trained bodyguards if you need assistance,” Darleen offered after she stepped out of the front passenger seat.

“No, I think I’ll be fine,” Nick assured her as he walked towards the front doors, only for them to be opened by the butler before he could reach them.

“Master Gallows, her ladyship has been expecting you,” the tall, dark-haired man in a livery said with a bow. “She is waiting for you in the tea room, sir.”

With a nod of thanks, Nick walked through the foyer and down the hallway, which was lined with artwork that would have been more fitting at the Met. The whole house was treated like a museum anyway: everything existed for show. The extravagance of it all made him shake his head as he recalled how everyone felt like they were walking on eggshells constantly within the enclosure. It was to the point that he could still remember Rosemary’s vivid terror when Nick had bumped into one of the vases and left his fingerprints across it as a kid, and the way she had rushed to clean off the prints and orient the vase to where it was before like it was a matter of life and death.

Nick opened the double french doors and entered the large, opulent tea room and immediately realized how painfully stiff the negotiations were going to be.

“I’m glad you could find a moment to join me, even during these turbulent times Nick,” Evelynn said, not bothering to stand up as she sat, her straight back a good foot from the support of her chair.

This type of rigid formality alone wouldn’t have been a big deal if it was just her, but Rosemary was also sitting at the table, staring at her cup of tea as he walked into the room, and only after a moment lifting her head to notice him.

“It’s nice to see, despite the situation last night, you two are both doing quite well,” Nick replied, giving his best public-personality smile as he walked over to the small, circular wooden table, noting the intricate designs in the lace cloth draped over the table.

Cleaning that would be a nightmare, Nick thought as he studied the complex pattern on the cloth. You’d have to do it carefully by hand right away if even a drop of something spilled on it.

“Yes well, things would be better if your grandfather was as honest as he claimed to be,” Evelynn said. “It seems that, before I could fully wrest control of his heritage, he passed and gave all of his shares to you, not even bothering to split them with the rest of the family.”

“And I suppose you’ve brought me here to demand that I hand them over?” Nick asked as he carefully sat down, half expecting some trap to spring the moment his rear end was firmly atop the nice, cushioned seat.

“Would you?” She raised an eyebrow, looking a little hopeful for a moment, before lowering it and shrugging. “No. Of course not. Despite your generosity, you’d have to be a bigger fool than even your father to do something like that. And I also suspect that you don’t much care for honoring the old man’s words in life either, as there was clearly never any deep affection between the two of you. No, I’m here to do business as reasonable adults should.”

“Alright, what are you offering then?” Nick inquired, taking a deep breath as he decided to trust the tea in front of him. He was still wary of poison, but at least with his dip into Alchemy with Potion Master and his use of Omni-Trainer’s Insight, he had relative confidence that the tea was exactly what the status message claimed it to be: Da-Hong Pao, an oolong tea.

“I think the easiest solution to both of our troubles would be if you sired an heir with my offspring,” Evelynne stated matter of factly. She said this in such a calm manner, like she was talking about the weather not changing in the summer, but Rosemary nearly did a spit take, her hand rapidly covering her mouth as her eyes went wide. She turned to face her mother.

So at least one party wasn’t aware of the plan, Nick thought as he studied the absolute disgust on Rosemary’s face as she immediately blurted out her most immediate and obvious point of refusal: “Mother! He’s my cousin!”

“Barely. Until those shares are in our possession, we’re still a branch family. Not to mention, there are only so many people with the money he has in the world, so if you’re going to be picky about being related to a prospect, then you’re going to be stuck with one of the uglier ones,” Evelynne scoffed, shaking her head in annoyance like she was disappointed she even had to explain the matter. “Besides, it’s not like this is the 1500s. We have plenty of technology to prevent any genetic issues with the offspring.”

“Mother!!” Rosemary’s usually pale, pristine white face was now a shade of red somewhere between a tomato and a strawberry.

“Do not speak out of turn again,” Evelynne snapped, silencing Rosemary before the young woman could make another complaint.

“I think I’m going to have to pass on that suggestion,” Nick interjected. Then, wanting to make sure the blame didn’t fall on Rosemary, he quickly added, “I already have a girl I like and, frankly, plan to marry one day.”

“Yes, yes, I remember. The cute little Korean thing. You have excellent tastes, but it’s not like individuals with our wealth have to play by the same social rules as others. You could very easily make an heir for the sake of passing on stocks to a grandchild of mine while still having your family fun on the side. I’m sure your girlfriend would understand,” Evelynne said, looking over at her furious daughter. “Nevermind. Please forget I said anything. I was just having a little fun to vent my frustration, but it’s very clear my child did not inherit my sense of humor, so pursuing the topic further would just be cruel to the poor child.”

That was a joke? Nick blinked, his mouth hanging half open as he looked at Rosemary, wondering, Does she usually mess with you like this?

“Anyway, no. I know you won’t relinquish your shares, but I was hoping you’d at the very least agree to give our family the privilege your late grandfather had ceded in the competition: managing rights to the Gallows Company for one year,” Evelynne continued, spelling out her actual plan.

“And you believe a single construction contract is worth a year of managing rights?” Nick asked, carefully sipping his tea and appreciating its light, fresh, yet slightly floral flavor.

“No, I would rather say that I believe the 8 to 12% minimum growth I am positive we can bring to the company is worth those rights,” she clarified. “While my daughter is not as innovative as you, she will have me to support her, and by merging many of our logistic chains and streamlining operations, we’ll see substantial cost reductions and efficiency gains.”

“Hmmm” was all Nick gave in reply. Being slow to speak was one of the things he had gotten very comfortable doing in negotiations thanks to Seo-ah usually being with him. Not speaking let him listen as others argued for and against him before he found the right time to enter the conversation himself.

Only, no one was there to advocate for him this time, so an awkward silence instead filled the room as he continued to just lean back and sip his tea, thinking about what she was offering. He didn’t know why, but no matter how reasonable she seemed to be, he still felt like this was a trap. Not because of the fact this woman had ever shown malice toward him, but rather because of the nature of business—and the eerily similar vibe she shared with his grandfather.

“Nick, I understand why you’re hesitating,” Evelynne said as she picked up her tea. “It’s a large risk to put so much wealth in the hands of someone else, but be honest with me: you want the benefits of your inheritance, but you don’t want to deal with the minutiae of its management, right? You’ve been pushing every project you’ve launched onto other people. You have someone else running your pharmaceutical company, you have your old guild managing your weightlifting syrup sales . . . Even now, you have that poor girl Kaylee, merely your guild receptionist, handling your outreach projects with the community.”

“That I delegate doesn’t mean I’m not in charge.”

“Of course, and I’m not asking you to give up your wealth. I’m asking you to delegate and cooperate. If you can bend a little here, you can focus on your real passion, your guild, and we can focus on ours: business and sales,” she argued, making an unexpectedly compelling case, one that would have been stronger still if she wasn’t holding a construction contract over his head as a sort of ticking time bomb.

Then, as if reading his mind, she continued, “Think on it. I’ll have my people handle the construction contract you came here for as a show of goodwill and send your lawyers the papers and outlines for the yearly management rights deferral. Just sign them and send them back when you’re ready to make Rosemary’s position official. I know you’ll make the right decision.”

Nick took in a deep breath, using the tea once more as a shield as he looked from Evelynne’s eyes to the fancy lace cloth on the table in front of him, knowing how hard it would be to clean up even a single misspoken word. The deal did sound good and reasonable enough that there were no visible holes in it, but he also knew what Evelynne had politely not said out loud: he wasn’t a proper CEO. He wasn’t a businessman at all, and he knew none of the ins and outs, the legalities, or the consequences of such a decision.

The only thing he could do now was to get a lawyer, a good one, and one he could trust to review everything Evelynne sent him.