Inside Anderson's office—the chief engineer's office for the Tagiunituk Lakes project—the air felt heavier than usual, thick with the quiet weight of unspoken expectations. The walls, lined with geological survey maps and structural schematics, seemed to close in slightly as four figures settled into place: William Smith, Kimberly Smith, T.B., and Anderson himself.
William Smith took a seat with practiced ease, his posture composed, his expression serious but unreadable, as if every movement, every glance, were measured with the precision of a man who had spent decades shaping the world around him to his advantage. He exuded a quiet authority—one that did not demand attention but commanded it nonetheless.
Anderson leaned back, observing.
"Mr. Anderson," William began, his voice even, carrying the weight of experience and control. "I take workplace safety very seriously. I instructed the security guard to trigger the fire alarm as a drill—a test to ensure my employees are prepared for the worst. But," he added, allowing a small, knowing smile to form at the corner of his mouth, "let's keep that between us. No need to tell the firefighters."
Anderson met his gaze but said nothing.
The words were smooth, too smooth. A test, yes—but of what? The company's emergency response, or Anderson himself?
William continued, shifting effortlessly into a tone that felt heavier, more authoritative, as if he were laying down something final, something absolute. "Professor David was the part-time chief engineer here during the survey phase of this project. Now, I want you to continue his work—to build on his expertise and take this project forward. This is a vital endeavor for my company."
A pause. A calculated breath. Then, he gestured toward a thick file that T.B. had placed on Anderson's desk, a silent invitation for him to grasp the weight of it, to feel the responsibility that came with it.
His voice dropped—lower, deeper—like a whisper pressed through his teeth.
"I have invested everything into this."
The room seemed to shrink, the hum of the overhead lights suddenly louder in the silence that followed.
Anderson didn't move.
William allowed the weight of his words to settle before delivering the next blow.
"If this project succeeds, we will move forward with an IPO—an Initial Public Offering. Our company will be listed on the New York Stock Exchange for the first time."
Across from him, Kimberly Smith shifted, her posture tightening ever so slightly. A subtle movement, but Anderson caught it—the barely perceptible nudge she gave her father under the table. A silent warning.
William ignored her.
Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes locking onto Anderson's like a predator narrowing in on its prey.
"Mr. Anderson Jr. Seely," he said, enunciating each syllable with deliberate precision, "I want you to join my company—not just as an employee, but as a partner."
He let that word hang in the air for a moment before delivering the final piece.
"Instead of a salary, I am offering you three percent of the company's shares."
Silence.
The kind that stretched, thick and palpable, filling every inch of the office with its presence.
Anderson didn't respond immediately. His mind raced, his thoughts splintering in a dozen different directions.
Three percent.
It sounded small on paper, but if the IPO succeeded, those shares could be worth millions. Maybe tens of millions. This wasn't just a job offer. This was an invitation to sit at the table, to be part of the game at the highest level—a seat among those who dictated the rules rather than followed them.
But it was also a gamble. No salary. No guaranteed income. Only the promise of a future payout if everything went according to plan.
And nothing ever went according to plan.
William sat back, waiting, watching, measuring.
"I want you on this business boat with me," he continued smoothly. "These are difficult times. I need people who are willing to take risks."
Anderson exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing against the armrest of his chair. He wasn't a fool. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—but it was also a test. A loyalty test. A commitment test. A test of whether he was willing to put everything on the line for something that could either make him rich beyond imagination or leave him with nothing.
He reached forward and grasped William's outstretched hand.
"I'm in," he said, his voice steady, firm. "Thank you very much."
William nodded, satisfied. A slow, approving nod that carried the weight of a decision made. "Ms. Kimberly Smith will outline the contract terms and send them for your review. We'll meet later at a restaurant to discuss the details. T.B. will pick you up at your home after work."
With that, the old businessman rose.
T.B. stepped forward, opening the office door for him.
William walked quickly—his posture straight, his movements smooth and efficient, his eyes fixed forward, his hands clenched into fists—utterly unlike a man of his age.
Anderson watched him go, the question forming in his mind before he could stop it.
How old is he?
He had seen men in their sixties move with power before, but there was something different about William Smith. Something unnatural. His skin was smooth, his presence unwavering.
He looks no older than sixty. But sometimes… sometimes he seems even younger.
A man like that had no room for weakness. No room for hesitation. No room for failure.
Anderson let out a slow breath, his mind shifting gears.
If he wasn't receiving a salary, he needed to consider other financial sources.
His adoptive parents' house—the one he had inherited—could be mortgaged if necessary. A backup plan. A safety net.
But he had never liked safety nets.
His fingers drifted to his pocket, pulling out his cell phone.
A thought sparked.
A name.
Without hesitation, he dialed.
The line rang once, twice.
Then, a voice on the other end: smooth, confident, professional.
"Jonathan speaking."
Anderson didn't waste time.
"Lawyer Jonathan," he said. "I need to discuss something. Right away."
A pause.
Then, the measured response. "I'm listening."