[Daniel’s PoV]
6 Months Later…
Seated comfortably on the plush couch in our room, the man in the impeccably tailored black suit leaned forward, his demeanor exuding confidence as he made his final proposition. "Sir, this is my final offer," he stated firmly, his voice carrying a note of assurance. "I'm willing to go as high as $435,000."
My father, positioned across from him, considered the offer carefully, weighing the implications of accepting or declining. After a brief moment of contemplation, his face broke into a satisfied grin. "We've got a deal!" he declared enthusiastically, rising from his seat with a sense of accomplishment. Extending his right hand towards the man, he awaited the confirmation of their agreement.
With a nod of approval, the man accepted the offer, reaching out to clasp my father's hand in a firm handshake.
Seated on a chair nearby, I found myself drawn into the unfolding negotiations, a silent observer of the dance of commerce taking place before me. It seemed my father deemed this an opportune moment for me to gain firsthand insight into the intricacies of business dealings. While I appreciated his intention to involve me in such matters, I couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. After all, during my tenure as an executive of the subsidiary company in my past life, such negotiations had been part and parcel of my daily routine. Nonetheless, I remained attentive, ready to glean whatever wisdom I could from the proceedings.
Remaining seated, I observed as the conversation pivoted towards the logistics of payment. With each passing moment, it became increasingly apparent that both parties were keen on reaching a mutually beneficial agreement. After a brief exchange of ideas, a consensus was swiftly reached: a bank wire transfer would serve as the preferred mode of payment.
"Let's reconvene at the attorney's office tomorrow for the settlement," my father proposed, his tone carrying a sense of finality as he began tidying up the scattered documents on the table.
"Agreed. Thank you for your time, sir," the man in the black suit acknowledged respectfully.
With a nod of acknowledgment, my father watched as the man swiftly exited the room, clutching the briefcase firmly in his hand.
Father let out a soft sigh as he meticulously organized the documents back into the file. Seizing the opportunity, I hopped off the chair and settled beside him on the couch. The weight of the recent transaction hung in the air, and I couldn't help but ponder its implications. With the successful negotiation yielding $435,000 for the apparel store in Times Square, the significance of the amount wasn't lost on me. It was nearly equivalent to the value of my trust fund, a realization that underscored the magnitude of the deal.
Reflecting on the past eight to nine months, I couldn't ignore the visible toll it had taken on my father. Stress had become a constant companion, shadowing his every move. There were moments when it seemed to consume him entirely, prompting a week-long hiatus from work in a desperate bid for respite. Yet, even that brief reprieve proved insufficient as he swiftly returned to the relentless grind of his daily routine.
Father's dedication was undeniable, evident in the long hours he devoted to his work—nearly ten hours a day at the office, followed by an additional three hours of labor upon returning home. The weight of his responsibilities seemed to weigh heavily upon him, leaving little room for rest or relaxation.
In hindsight, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at the prospect of him selling the apparel store. While it undoubtedly represented a significant source of income, the detrimental impact on his well-being far outweighed any financial gain. After all, what good is wealth if one's health is compromised?
It was a difficult decision, undoubtedly fraught with its own set of challenges, but I couldn't shake the conviction that it was ultimately for the best. As I watched him now, meticulously tidying up the remnants of the transaction, I couldn't help but silently commend him for prioritizing his health and well-being above all else.
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With the cash father received, he had the option to either launch a brand new store in Times Square, leveraging his confidence in a venture he believed in, or simply park the funds in investments to allow them to grow through compounding, enabling him to sustain himself off the interest.
In the following days, my dad, Adam, decided to cash out his stash from the bank and bid farewell to my nanny. Was her name Blaire? Or maybe Bell? The day after her departure, something strange happened. Dad ditched his usual routine and took charge of my morning routine. He whipped up breakfast, fed me, made sure I was spick and span and even packed my bag. Hold up. Packed my bag? What was he up to?
I had no clue what was going on until Dad started dressing me in fancier baby clothes. By this point, I was already flaunting my speaking skills, impressing everyone around me. But, sticking to the script, Dad casually passed it off as my genius. I kept pestering him with questions, like, "What's the deal, Dad?" And all he kept saying was, "Don't worry, Danny. Everything's gonna be just fine," in that soothing tone of his.
With a tender grip on me and a determined stride, Dad navigated towards the door. As we exited the room, he carefully placed me on the floor, ensuring the lock clicked securely. Then, just as he reached to lift me once more, his attention was drawn to the small nameplate affixed to our door, its golden letters glinting in the light.
The nameplate, elegantly engraved with "Adam A. Lewis" in stylish italics, caught Dad's eye. With a gentle smile, he reached out, carefully removing it from the wall. Swiftly, he unzipped the trolley, tucking the nameplate safely inside. Then, lifting me once more, we stepped out into the bustling street, where a sleek black Cadillac awaited us on the curb.
Father exchanged nods with the elderly gentleman behind the wheel, who reciprocated the gesture respectfully. As Dad made his way across the street, the old man emerged from the driver's seat, a sense of purpose evident in his movements.
"Good morning, Master Adam," the old man greeted with a respectful bow.
"Morning, Rick. So, you got the news, didn’t you?" Dad inquired, his tone indicating a sense of anticipation.
"Yes, Master Adam. Your father told me to drop both of you," Rick replied humbly.
"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Dad responded with a smile, exchanging a knowing glance with Rick as they prepared to embark on their journey.
Rick courteously opened the door for us, and Dad affectionately ruffled my hair before guiding me into the car. With a gentle smile, he settled in beside me, and Rick closed the door behind us, signaling the start of our adventure.
The engine hummed to life, and the car smoothly glided forward, marking the commencement of our journey. We ventured forth into the vibrancy of New York City, where towering skyscrapers stretched towards the heavens, and the pulse of city life thrummed through the bustling streets.
Exiting the urban sprawl behind us, we merged onto Interstate 95 South, leaving the city's frenetic energy in our wake. The landscape transitioned from towering buildings to sprawling suburbs, and the rhythm of the highway carried us toward the outskirts of the metropolitan area.
Leaving the New York suburbs behind, we crossed the state line into New Jersey. The scenery transformed into rolling hills and lush wooded areas, dotted with quaint small towns and rural communities. The journey continued through picturesque landscapes, each bend in the road revealing a new vista of natural beauty.
Our journey southward on Interstate 95 took us into Pennsylvania, renowned for its scenic countryside and rich historical landmarks. Passing through vibrant cities like Philadelphia, we caught fleeting glimpses of iconic attractions such as the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. Venturing deeper into the state, the landscape gradually shifted, giving way to expansive farmlands and verdant forests that sprawled across the horizon.
As we neared the Maryland border, I couldn't help but notice a subtle shift in the scenery around us. The landscape transformed into rolling hills adorned with dense forests, a stark contrast to the urban sprawl we left behind. Exiting Interstate 95, we seamlessly transitioned onto Interstate 70 West, embarking on a new leg of our journey. Despite the onset of winter in February, occasional snow flurries danced in and out of view, adding a touch of enchantment to the idyllic countryside.
After nearly four hours on the road, our journey culminated in our arrival at a quaint town nestled along the banks of the majestic Potomac River.
With a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, Father turned to me, his voice filled with anticipation, and announced, "Welcome to our new home, Danny. Welcome to Brunswick."