Chapter 6 - The Art of the Deal
Sophie was the first to break the silence. She hopped off her barstool, walked across the room, and handed Ethan a clean linen napkin.
""Your nose is bleeding, Mr. Sullivan,"" she said softly.
Ethan blinked, touching his upper lip. A small drop of blood had trickled down from the sheer stress of the confrontation. He took the napkin with shaking hands, dropping to his knees once more before our daughter.
""Thank you, Sophie,"" he whispered, dabbing his lip. ""And... you don't have to call me Mr. Sullivan. You can call me Ethan. Or... whenever you're ready... Dad.""
""Let's not jump to conclusions,"" Noah spoke up, walking over with his portfolio under his arm. ""Renouncing your board and evicting your mother was an impressive display of emotional leverage, Mr. Sullivan. But in business, intentions mean nothing. Only executed contracts matter.""
Ethan looked at our son, a faint, disbelieving smile touching his lips despite the chaos of the night. ""You drive a hard bargain, kid. What do you want?""
""First, full public retraction of your interview claims,"" Noah listed off his fingers methodically. ""Second, complete transparency regarding the trust funds my sister and I were legally entitled to under Illinois family law. Third, you will fund Mom’s independent interior design firm with five million dollars in unrestricted equity, completely free of Sullivan Group corporate oversight.""
I covered my mouth to hide a gasp. ""Noah! I never asked for that!""
""Mom, please allow me to negotiate,"" Noah said calmly, holding up a polite hand. ""You've been underpaid on commercial freelance contracts for seven years because you didn't have institutional backing. It's time for market correction.""
Ethan didn't laugh. In fact, his eyes gleamed with an intensity I hadn't seen since we were twenty-three years old and dreaming in that tiny leaky apartment. He recognized his own ruthless strategic mind staring right back at him through ten-year-old eyes.
""Agreed,"" Ethan said immediately. ""In fact, I'll do better. I'll transfer twenty percent of my personal Sullivan Group voting stock into a irrevocable blind trust for you and Sophie tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM. And for your mother... I will step down as CEO of Sullivan Group and take a leave of absence to work as an unpaid consultant for her design firm, if she’ll have me.""
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I stepped forward, looking down at the man who had broken my heart a decade ago. ""You think you can buy your way back into our lives with stock certificates, Ethan?""
""No, Claire,"" Ethan answered, looking up at me with raw, undefended humility. ""I know money means nothing to you. If it did, you would have taken Evelyn's buyout ten years ago instead of raising our babies on two shifts at a neighborhood diner. I don't want to buy you. I want to earn you. I want to spend the next ten years proving that the boy who threw thirty dollars at you is dead, and the man kneeling here would die before letting anyone hurt you again.""
