“Son,” he said, blinking as if awed. He raised his head from his chair. “You’ve finally come.”
Though, not for him, and not for any type of closure or healing. I really didn’t need it from him.
I wet my lips. “I recently had a meeting with the board. I’m going in a new direction with Mallick.”
Straight to the point, I had the guards hand him what I’d brought, then watched with great satisfaction as he read everything over from his chair. I owed my father absolutely nothing, but I did owe this to myself. I made decisions, took actions.
And I wanted him to know.
Like my arrival, no surprise twitched his eyes. Surprising, but I waited until he got to the end. This did jump his brows at this point, and with the amount of his company’s assets I’d sold off, it probably should. Mallick was still operational in the real estate and development game. I wasn’t fucking crazy. That was our money maker, our business, but I was diversifying and making an empire I could actually stomach running. Nothing based on greed or opportunity. A plan that put both people and myself in mind. This was the kind of company I could run, and he’d given me that power the moment he’d landed in here. I was the number one.
And he the two.
“Who’s Lance Johnson?” he asked, and I nodded.
“A business partner.” I’d given LJ exactly what he wanted, sold him Mallick properties and even went in with him on a few, making him a partner. This kind of collaboration I completely stood for, one that put the people in mind, and with him heading it, I could be completely hands off and place my attention toward things that called even more to me.
“You’re working with him,” Dad continued on. Taking out his spectacles from his jumpsuit, he placed them on his nose. His lips parted. “And made money off the deal.”
Because money could be made while still keeping your soul, and I watched as he scanned the documents to see where those funds went. I had plans for those too.
“Art galleries.” He swung his gaze over to me. “Several?”
I nodded, investments I made in a string of them. I planned to hit all the major cities, but started with Chicago, Miami, and New York. I was working on a team to assist and build this new empire, a branch of Mallick focusing on the artistic sphere. “I’m taking Mallick into a new era. I’m collaborating with a network of national and international artists as well. Our pieces will be shown. Sold at these galleries.”
“Our?”
My head bobbed once in acknowledgment, my legs crossing. “I’m an artist. An artist and a businessman. I want to live in a world in which I’m involved with the two, so I created one.”
“It seems you have.” Flipping the folder closed, Dad passed it off to the guard nearest him. They returned the documents to me. Dad sat back. “It seems you’ve done what you wanted.”
“I have.”
“And you’re here because?”
“I wanted you to know.” Point blank. I didn’t owe him anything, but this wasn’t about him. I wouldn’t tiptoe around and follow my passions. I’d preach them from the rafters. He’d know who I was. He’d know how I ended up, how I fared and thrived despite him and his influence. I’d become my own man, and I’d done it without him.
I was done here, nothing else I needed to say. I handed the documents off to the guard. Dad could keep them, the copies a memento of my short time here.
Buttoning my jacket, I stood. “See you in a few years.”
Because I would eventually. He hadn’t murdered anyone so his sentence was lighter, and he would be out of here eventually. I’d be ready when he did, and when he surfaced, it would be in his best interest to stay away.
The threat of that on my lips, my eyes narrowed. “Though, it’d behoove you to maybe reconsider that, seeing me?” I nodded. “Same goes for Mom. I know she’s been coming to see you.” I shook my head. “How about you not do that anymore.”
Nothing more to say about that, I turned my back to him. I started to walk away before I heard him call my name.
“I’m proud of you, son,” followed, and I closed my eyes. His sigh was deep. “I’m real proud of you. Proud that you’re doing what you want to do. Proud that you’re standing up to me. Talking to me. That was all I ever wanted for you.”
I turned, angling a look. “And what would ever make you feel like I’d care about that?” I didn’t. There’d been a time where I might have, but not now.
There had been a time, way back when anything this man touched I thought turned to gold. Where I simply wanted to breath his air, be him, despite who he was and what he’d done to me. He’d raised me with a firm hand, sent me to goddamn boarding school at one point for defiance, but even through all that, I’d wanted his acceptance. Like I needed it.
It had taken me all these years and countless mistakes to realize I didn’t. I stood before him now a new person.
“I’m proud of that, too,” he said, and the nerve of him to actually allow his throat to jump. To feel something about this moment, about me. He drew fingers down his beard. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
Oh, we weren’t even going to go there. I tilted my head. “Don’t you dare. A mistake is messing up your taxes. Not what you did and whose lives you’ve ruined.”
He nodded. “I know. And back then, I blamed it on the protection of my family. Helping my brother. Protecting you and your mom.”
I laughed with no humor. “But now?”
He took a step forward, and the guards shifted, reaching for their batons. I lifted a hand, and they stopped. They answered to me here, not him.
My father saw that, his head shifting in their direction. He found me once again, the smile from before returning to his lips.
“It was selfishness,” he said. “My image. I wanted to protect the image of my family. Protect me. It had nothing to do with anything else.”
Shocked he was actually saying this, though I didn’t let him see that. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Dad took another step forward, and the guards watched me. I did nothing. He’d be bold to do something and he wouldn’t here. Dad had no power in this situation with me.
“I held that knuckle-white, my image. My status.” He shrugged. “Only to lose it. Only to give it to you.”
“Funny what happens when you fuck up,” I said. “And if we’re done…”
“Almost.” The guards allowed him to go back to his desk, and when he returned, he had a binder. He gave it to the guards, who gave it to me. “I’ve tracked all your accomplishments. All your wins over the years during my time here.” He pocketed his hands. “I really am proud of you, and I just wanted you to know it’s what’s keeping me moving forward. To know that you’re okay out there. You’re very inspiring, son.”
I scanned the pages, news articles mostly and internet pages. Awards I’d won, articles published at Brown. He even had a picture of me from the local paper back home, a ribbon cutting that I’d done recently.
They’d given my father resources all right to keep tabs on me, and once done, I gave the binder back to the guard.