"Do you comprehend the extent to which the holding company's share price has plummeted due to the shortcomings of your subsidiary?" A booming voice echoed through the office cabin.
The elegant wooden desk, adorned with a nameplate that read "Jeffrey Lewis, Chairman," served as the stage for this confrontation. Seated in a plush chair, a man with a head full of grayish-black hair and a goatee, not older than sixty-five, directed his anger towards another man of similar age, his hair much grayer and his face clean-shaven. The individual on the receiving end stood opposite the chairman.
“Do you have any fucking idea, Matthew!?” the chairman persisted in expressing his anger.
"25%, sir," Matthew replied weakly. As he responded, his already slender frame seemed to contract slightly.
"Exactly! 25%. That's a bloody $100 million on paper. All that wealth vanished into thin air in just one day."
"I apologize, sir," Matthew uttered.
"You know what? You're fired. I entrusted you with the CEO position of my third-largest subsidiary, and within five years, it's all in ruins."
Matthew's eyes widened in disbelief.
I dedicated thirty-five years of my life, more than three-quarters of my earnings, and all the hard work and commitment to this company, only to be let go at this crucial juncture. In the last five years, my once-black hair, with a few streaks of grey, has transformed into a head full of grey hair with a few streaks of black.
The stress accumulated in my role as the CEO of 'Lewis Construction' has wreaked havoc on my life. My twelve-year marriage fell apart; my wife left me for a younger retiree. Not that I was ever the romantic type. Getting married at the ripe age of forty-seven was evidence enough of that. I don't have anyone to call my own. Father? I never had one. Mother? She succumbed to a treatable disease when I was twelve. My aunt passed away forty years ago, and my grandfather never lived to see his only grandson succeed in life. Well, maybe that's for the best. I've failed miserably in life anyway.
Matthew felt his eyes moistening. After regaining a semblance of composure, he resolved to address the root cause of the problem.
"But I merely executed the directives given by the board. You were present in those meetings, weren't you? My perspectives were dismissed as if I were an amateur in this industry. If anyone should face consequences, it should be those board members, shouldn't they? And perhaps, even you should contemplate resigning from your position."
The veins on Jeffrey's temple became as evident as the night sky. Despite this, Matthew persisted in expressing his grievances, well aware that this was his sole opportunity to speak his mind.
He pressed on, "Well, it's about time for you to retire, Jeff. Your sons are grappling with their mid-life crises, and your grandsons anxiously await their share of your wealth once you pass, only to be disappointed every year you continue breathing. That's a miserable life, Jeff. A miserable li-."
"Matthew Alveston!" the loud voice cut through Matthew's words. "Leave this office! Leave this building! If you dare appear in front of me again, I'll personally gouge out those shit brown eyes of yours!"
Matthew simply turned away from the chairman, opened the cabin door, and exited. It didn't take him much time to collect his belongings and leave the premises.
While heading to his car, he glanced up at the imposing structure. Lewis Tower, a seventy-storey skyscraper spanning 1.75 million square feet, was erected in 1963 by Jonathon Lewis, the grandson of the founder, Dale Lewis.
In this family-owned enterprise, I diligently climbed the ranks, operating under the belief that merit would determine one's ascent. However, in the end, my perspectives were deemed less valuable than those of a thirty-year-old man-child, simply because he bore the surname 'Lewis.'
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Walking toward his car, a model from the now closed Lewis Automobiles fleet parked in the lot, all he could ponder was: Where did everything take a wrong turn?
Was it the moment I couldn't secure admission into those prestigious colleges? Was it the decision to commence my career in Weirton for my first job? Or was it the choice to sell my childhood home and my grandfather's shop to purchase a 2-BHK apartment in NYC?
He unlocked the driver's seat door, settled in comfortably, and deposited the cardboard box containing his belongings in the backseat. Turning the key, he initiated the engine of his sixteen-year-old car, which, given its age, required a moment to come to life.
The drive home spanned twenty minutes.
Before long, he found himself seated on his couch, a sixty-two-year-old man with no job and no savings. His wealth existed primarily in the form of shares in Lewis Construction obtained through stock options. Approximately 75% of his earnings over the years were also invested in the company. Over his lifetime, he had amassed a 10% ownership stake in Lewis Construction, the third-largest subsidiary within the Lewis Corps. This shareholding should have been valued at $10.3 million five years ago. However, owing to poor decisions by the board and persistent interference from investment firms, the company experienced a staggering decline in revenue over the past five years. Consequently, his $10.3 million has dwindled to a mere $300 thousand, that too a figure he cannot be certain of.
Once a pioneering force in the Construction Sector, Lewis Construction succumbed to a lack of innovation and generational politics.
The common refrain is, 'Lewis Group is stuck in the year 2000, but it's been there since the 1980s.'
Leadership incompetence played a significant role in the doom. At its zenith in 1985, Lewis Corps, valued at $23 billion ($65 billion when adjusted for inflation), has now dwindled to a mere $400 million. This stark deterioration occurred in just forty years. I became a part of this corporation near its peak, only to be ousted when it had all crumbled.
The fortunes of Lewis Corps have been on a steady decline since the passing of Jonathon Lewis in 1986. Despite being an immensely successful individual, his sons proved to be prodigal, and his grandsons were too absorbed to consider the company's future. While Jonathon achieved great success in his professional life, he failed as a family man. His inability to nurture the next generation ultimately led to the demise of the legacy he painstakingly built over a lifetime of seventy years.
Talking about me, I hail from Weirton, West Virginia, a small town originally established by Weirton Steels for mining purposes. Despite its humble beginnings, the town gradually evolved into a significant settlement over the years. Growing up, I never knew my father and my upbringing was shaped by my mother, maternal grandfather, and maternal aunt. Tragedy struck when I was twelve – my mother fell victim to influenza. Though the illness was treatable, the lack of financial means proved fatal for her.
This incident left my grandfather deeply shaken, and he never fully recovered. Just a couple of years later, he too succumbed to a stroke, naming me as the beneficiary to all his wealth alongside my only surviving relative, my aunt. Unfortunately, my aunt, who remained unmarried and childless, passed away in 1983 due to terminal blood cancer. By the time I completed college, I found myself with no family to call my own.
For the initial five years after college, I worked for Weirton Steels. In 1989, I sold all my property including my grandpa’s store in Weirton for $95,000 and invested in an apartment in NYC as I joined Lewis Corps. Climbing the corporate ladder took time, and it wasn't until 2010, at the age of 48, that I secured an executive position. In 2019, I reached a significant milestone – being appointed as the CEO of Lewis Construction. Unfortunately, this achievement was short-lived as I find myself dismissed from the position just half a decade later, today.
On a personal note, I entered a marriage in 2009 with an accountant from the company. She left her job post-marriage, relying solely on my income. However, during the COVID-19 pandemic, she decided she couldn't sustain a lifestyle with half of my original income. In 2021, she left me for a forty-five-year-old retired tech millionaire, taking around $1 million, which was originally intended as our emergency fund.
Deciding to sell his shares on the stock exchange the next day, Matthew grappled with the complexities of Internet stock investing, finding it too intricate and risky for his liking. As darkness enveloped the outside world, he opted for the convenience of ordering a pizza from the nearby pizzeria through a phone call.
By 9 PM, a time he hadn't experienced rest for years due to the demands of work, he found himself in bed. Even weekends, which were typically just extensions of the workweek, could no longer dictate his schedule.
As his eyes gently closed, Matthew drifted into a deep sleep, harboring a singular wish – to experience the luck enjoyed by those dynastic business moguls who seemingly had everything handed to them on a silver platter.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
[Matthew’s PoV]
As I opened my eyes, I found myself gazing at a distinct ceiling that I’d never seen before. Its smooth white surface created a clean and timeless backdrop. After a moment of observation, I noticed subtle recessed lighting along the edges, casting a soft and ambient glow that elevated the overall atmosphere.
Yet, the question lingered: where exactly am I? A hospital? Did I collapse or what?
Opting to rise from the bed, my attempt proved futile; I couldn't get up at all.
My gaze then shifted sideways, revealing my surroundings. It struck me—I was in a jail! Wooden beams enclosed me! Hold on, wooden beams?
The sound of approaching footsteps startled me. Someone was on their way. In a matter of seconds, a creaking sound reached my ears—I was certain it was a door being opened by somebody. Soon enough, two figures came into view. Hold on, why were they growing larger? As they approached within a meter of me, I came to a chilling realization—I must be in hell, subjected to the whims of these giants. They were at least four times my size. To them, I would be no more than a mere ball.
"What's his name?" inquired the elder of the giants, his hair a shade of greyish-black. An elderly giant!
"Daniel, father," responded the younger giant. Ah, so the young giant was the old giant's son. It made sense.
At this point, I had resigned myself to my fate. It appeared I had been selected for some form of torment instead of a person named Daniel. Why did luck have to be so cruel to me? There seemed to be no escape from their grasp.
"Raise your son well, Adam."
Huh? Son?