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“Yes.” His stare is ice and fire in one. “And I thought I raised a son who could think for himself.”
I don’t know what to make of this. Any of this. “Ididthink for myself.”
“And you thought staying away was best for me?”
“Yes.”
“You were wrong.” For the first time ever, my father’s legendary ice—the depth and strength of which I’d always assumed knew no bounds—cracked. There’s emotion in his voice. The timbre softened by feeling. “You should have come. You are my son and I needed you.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“For the same reason you chose to stay in Sydney.”
Vulnerability. It’s not something Foster men know how to deal with—we’ve had generations of hard work and scrapping and fighting and trying to protect what we’ve built. Trying to protect our legacy.
A legacy my stepbrother doesn’t give a shit about.
“I’m sorry.” The words leave me without air. But I mean them.
“I know.” He shakes his hand as if it’s all water under the bridge. It isn’t. “But that’s not why you came here. You know I’m stepping down soon, and I need to announce a successor.”
“It should be me.” I intertwine my fingers and watch my father’s impassive face.
“So you say.”
“So Granddad said.” I swallow, trying to keep my cool. “He wanted me in the CEO spot.”
“It’s not his company anymore.” I glimpse the strained relationship my father and grandfather had—a mirror of the one I’m experiencing now. A genetic lineup with too many strong, stubborn men means that each generation battled the one before it. “Iget to decide who takes over.”
“And you want to hand it off to Mike?” My anger bubbles up. “Why? He’ll tear it apart. Or run it into the ground until he’s bled it dry and there’s nothing left of value.”
“He’s my son, just as much as you are. The fact that we’re not blood related makes no difference to me—when I married his mother, I took him on as my own.”
I want to scream. Mike was here when my father needed him, and I wasn’t. I’m not sure how I can overcome that. I’m not sure how I can show him that I want this company because I care about our family history and not because I want to win some stupid pissing contest.
“If you want to prove to me that you’ve got what it takes, convince Mike to let you have it.” My father watches me like a stone statue—regal and unfeeling once more. “Running this business requires negotiation. Let’s see how good you are.”
“You’re kidding.” I push up from the couch and throw my hands in the air. “Convince Mike, who has only ever wanted whatever I had in my possession, to letmehave the CEO spot. That’s impossible.”
My father shrugs. “I’m not sure you want this company for the right reasons, either, Seb. You think you’re more virtuous than Mike, but you’re not.”
How could he say that? I’ve only ever cared about the vision my grandfather had—building a company that would provide for our family, that would grow and become something incredible. A legacy that future generations would be proud of.
Future generations? You mean the offspring of the family you’ve never wanted to have? How are there supposed to be future generations when you don’t believe in love and Mike only believes in himself?
I’m sobered by this thought. Providing for the family was my grandfather’s key reason for everything he did—the fundamental pillar of how he lived his life.
“Iwon’t take the company and scrap it for parts,” I retort. “I’ll protect it. That has to count for something.”
“And Mike has his vision for transformation. Both could be good and both could be bad, depending on how you look at it.”
My father is cryptic as always. At points, I’ve wondered if he enjoyed pitting Mike and me against one another—like some brotherly battle royal for his amusement.
“Well, there’s only one CEO spot,” I remind him. “So you’ll have to make a choice at some point. You can’t pit us against each other forever.”
For a moment, I see something flicker across his face that looks a whole lot like regret, but it’s gone before I can tell if I’m hallucinating or not. “You pit yourselves against each other, Sebastian. I wanted nothing but for you two to get along when you were growing up.”
“How am I supposed to get along with someone who’s only ever seen me as competition?” Whether it was grades, sports, girls, video games... Mike only ever gave a shit about beating me. “He used your heart attack as an opportunity to push me out. Twice.”
