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“Thank you.” He ended the call and strode down the hall to begin the presentation he would have to make up on the fly.
He wasn’t worried. He had spent the last year and a half taking a new approach to military-grade encryption software, personally establishing proof of concept before writing the code for the prototype. This was his baby, and he knew it inside and out.
His father preferred to spearhead product innovation. That would be the stumbling block. Theodore Montgomery had an ego to match the fortune and tech empire he’d built. His control of Grayscale was of the tight, iron-fist variety. In his mind, he was the only genius in the family. His son was far more suited to what Fliss had called “glad-handing.”
Saint knew this software would be his contribution to the legacy of his name, though. It would allow him to step out from under his father’s shadow and be seen as an innovator in his own right. A leader of the next generation in the technological revolution.
The project was ready for the next stage of development. He needed a team of top-tier programmers to build it out, improve the interface, test it, refine it, then take it to market. That required a huge investment of time, money and other resources. Since it would also become Grayscale’s next flagship product, he needed the board on board.
“Good morning,” he said as he entered the room filled with middle-aged suits and skirts. On the screen at one end of the room were another half dozen faces, all pinched with expressions of disapproval. His father looked at his watch.
Willow, first-class executive assistant with a minor in miracle making, had translated Saint’s chicken scratch into slides that appeared with the click of a button.
Saint dove straight into his business case, emphasizing the value and benefits this software would have for Grayscale, including its appeal to both high-level institutions and small-business users.
“We already offer encryption software,” someone said.
“This one is better.” It was sacrilege to claim anything his father had designed needed improvement, but it did. “This will become the preferred solution,” Saint promised.
The protests kept coming, though, making Saint look to his father, starting to suspect that Ted had poisoned the well before Saint had entered the room.
“You’re asking for a lot of money to make a copycat product.”
“Are you really prepared to take on a project this complex and carry it across the line? It could take years.”
“There’s a difference between charm and leadership, Saint.”
“Don’t hold back,” Saint drawled to hide his irritation. “Tell me what you really think of me.”
“We think it’s half-baked, son,” Ted Montgomery said. “Did you not pick up on that?”
“Of course it’s half-baked. That’s why I’m here. To get an oven,” he shot back.
“It feels premature,” the CFO said soothingly while looking around to collect nods of agreement.
“No problem.” Holding his father’s stare, Saint said, “I’ll start my own company and develop it myself.” It was the contingency plan he had hoped not to need. It would be far more convenient to develop this under the Grayscale umbrella. It would integrate better, and he didn’t want it to belong to anyone else when he eventually inherited Grayscale.
“With my money? You’re exactly like your mother,” his father accused in his scoffing way, right there in front of the assembled board. “You think you can help yourself to what’s behind door number three and use it for whatever pissant idea arrives in your head.”
“Actually, Dad, I’m exactly like you.” Saint took his ire and offense and any other emotion he was currently experiencing and condensed it inside himself. Hebecamehis father, sharp and hard and clear as a diamond. Able to cut through anything. “This is a business decision. I’m about to revolutionize the sector. If you’re so shortsighted that you want to cut me off financially, I’ll pick up the phone and ask one of our competitors to develop this with me. Frankly, I’d prefer to focus on this without the distraction of running Grayscale.”
Which he did run, whether his father wanted to acknowledge that or not.
Ted wore the title of president and had the final say on top-level decisions, but his social skills were abysmal. Saint spent half his life on a plane. Under the guise of schmoozing, he kept an eye on the executives in their global offices, ironing out wrinkles before they became problems. He resolved sticky issues around politics and international regulations and carried the emotional burden of those who were frustrated by his father’s closed-minded leadership so his father wasn’t bothered by power struggles and other conflicts.
“I’m well aware you regard this company as a distraction,” Ted said with heavy sarcasm, waving toward the screen mounted on the wall. It was back to showing the remote board members, but Saint got the message that his name and face were appearing on screens for all the wrong reasons, thanks to Julie. “You couldn’t even stay for dinner last night because you were chasing a new skirt. Clean up your act, son. Show me you’re serious about taking the reins, and maybe I could think about retiring. Then you can pour my money into whatever hairbrained scheme you like.”
Saint snorted. “You’re never going to retire.”
The man was seventy and came into the office daily so he could bark orders and continue to feel important. The power he’d amassed here was the only thing that gave him anything close to a sense of satisfaction with his life.
Saint turned his attention to the room at large.
“Just so we’re clear, this prototype was built on my own time, on my own equipment, by me. It’s mine,” he said. “There are people intrigued enough by what I create to want to steal it. They know what I did with the early AI configurations, and they want to know what I’m up to next.” That was why Julie had been nudged by her debtors to copy his files. “My work has value. Maybe not to you, but I won’t let that slow me down.”
He gathered up his laptop and walked out.
“Saint.” One of his allies on the board caught him outside the door. “Don’t do anything rash. Give me some time to change some minds. There are a lot of people on your side.” He nodded toward the boardroom.
