Page 6 of Words Unspoken

Now Michael needed his vote. So right after the trip to the lawyer, Michael was in the car with the driver driving him to Piaget Williems’ apartment. Michael had kept tabs on Max, just like his father had kept tabs on all of his sons, keeping a private investigator busy investigating their lives rather than just keeping in touch. There was a reason Michael had no personal life. He had not wanted his father to use it against him at any point in his career. Not that David had not tried. Now it was a habit, being isolated from everything and everyone but work. Michael regretted not being more involved in Max’s life, but Noah had been there for their brother. Plus, it would have damaged his relationship with their father further after he had argued in favor of Max is solution. Michael had stood between David suing Max, his own son, over the entire matter. No one knew except Michael and David.

Michael had also managed to quietly pull the drug off the market, citing legal concerns. It had been difficult and time consuming, but it was the right thing to do. He admired Max’s conviction and resolve. He admired the way Max could stand up for what was right, ignoring the consequences.

Michael simply was not that man. He weighed the consequences continuously. The car drew to a halt near a tired park. Everything was tired here, the buildings, the people. It was a shabby but neat neglect. Slowly the neighborhood was descending from its previous splendor perhaps forty or fifty years prior. Max lived here with his fiancé Piaget, a previous society girl who was widowed and down on her luck. Together, they made a wonderful couple. They seemed to make each other happy if the P.I.’s reports and photos were correct. He knew that Noah and Elle had befriended the couple.

Michael walked through the park, ignoring an old man who slept on a bench. At the apartment building entrance, he went to buzz the correct apartment when an old lady, pushing a walker went through the door. Michael took the opportunity to simply enter. Max would be less likely to turn him down in person.

It took only a few moments and two flights of stairs to reach Piaget’s apartment. Michael hesitated, drew a deep calming breath then knocked firmly.

There was laughter inside and he could hear Max say, “I will get it in just a minute.”

The door swung open and the two brother’s stood face to face.

“Michael.”

It had been six years since they had spoken. Six years, two months, five days. Michael knew exactly when. It was little facts like this that made his mind a legal trap. “Hello Max.”

Piaget pushed around Max to see who was at the door. It was obvious she was curious to see him, the brother who had not been in Max’s life for so long. “Hello. I am Piaget.”

Good manners had him shaking her proffered hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Will you come in?” she asked in return.

Michael thanked her politely. The apartment was old and dated, but homey. He liked it despite its neglect and age. Mostly he liked it because it was much better than his brother sleeping in the parks on the street. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you,” Piaget gave him a tentative smile. She really was a pretty thing with her red hair and fair skin.

“Michael why are you here?” Max cut right to the heart of the matter, ignoring Piaget is silent look telling him not to be rude.

Michael liked her the more for it. “Because I need you to do something for me.”

Max folded his arms. Michael knew that stubborn look. This likely was not going to go well. “Why?”

“Would you like to have a seat and something to drink?” Piaget offered, trying to diffuse the tension as a good hostess would.

Michael offered her a small smile. “Thank you for the offer but it is unlikely that I will be staying very long.”

“What do you need Michael?” asked Max.

Miachael sighed. He had not expected this to be easy. “As you know I am now head of the company and director of the board since our father’s retirement. That means I have a controlling interest of thirty-one percent.”

“Yes. And Noah has ten. What of it?” There was a slight edge to Max’s voice.

“There is going to be an important vote tomorrow morning. I need your vote, Max,” explained Michael.

Max shrugged. “I don’t have any shares. I can’t help you.”

Michael took some paperwork out of his inside suit jacket pocket and offered it to Max. “You have retained all of your shares.”

Max took the papers and scanned through them. “This is a dummy company in my name.”

“I created the company, put it in your name. Since you were determined to sell, it bought you out and you have maintained ownership of the shares. I put in some extra funds to pay any income taxes on it and had an accountant refile your taxes for you each year,” Michael quietly explained. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble with the IRS.”

“Why?” Max asked, puzzled.

Michael shrugged. “You are my brother.”

“You did this, using your money?” Max sought clarification.