THE EMPTY SEAT AT THE TABLE

"You can't just transfer fifty percent of a billion-dollar company to a child!" Richard yelled, slamming his hands on the table. "It violates the shareholder agreement!"

"Actually," Arthur spoke up, stepping forward. He pulled a thick legal binder from under his arm. "I was an attorney before I became a driver, Mr. Vanguard. When Peter Bennett passed, his intellectual property was never legally acquired. It was stolen."

Arthur opened the binder, dropping copies in front of the stunned board members. "Mr. Rossi spent the morning transferring his own shares to match the original fifty-fifty split to the rightful heir—Leo Bennett. Combined, Luca and Leo hold a seventy-percent majority. Your vote to oust him is null and void."

Vivienne sank into her chair, burying her face in her hands.

Richard looked wildly around the room, realizing his loyalists were suddenly scrambling to distance themselves from him. Embezzlement was one thing. Stolen patents and potential arson were another.

"You're a fool, Luca," Richard spat. "You're destroying your own empire for a dead mechanic and a bastard child."

"No," I said, walking over to Leo and crouching down to his eye level. "I'm finally building it right."

I looked up at Richard. "Security is waiting for you in the lobby. I’d suggest you leave before the federal marshals arrive to ask you about the Bennett trust."

Richard stared at me with pure venom, but he had no cards left to play. He turned and stormed out of the boardroom. Vivienne followed him, not looking back.

The silence left in their wake was heavy, but clean.

I stood up and looked at the remaining board members. "We have a lot of accounting to clean up. But from now on, this company honors its original founders."

I walked over to Mrs. Bennett, who was staring at me with tears streaming down her face.

"It's over," I told her quietly. "The house is yours. Forever. And Leo’s future is secure."

She pulled me into a tight embrace. For the first time since I was a teenager, I felt the crushing weight on my chest begin to lift.

That afternoon, I didn't go back to my penthouse. I drove back to the small house on the edge of town.

I changed out of my suit and put on a pair of old jeans and a work shirt. I walked into the backyard, looking up at the massive, half-finished treehouse in the oak tree.

Mrs. Bennett came out onto the porch, carrying two glasses of lemonade.

"He loved working on that," she said, looking up at the structure. "He said every nail he drove into it was a prayer that you’d come home."

I took a deep breath, picking up my father’s hammer from the workbench.

"Where do I start?" I asked.

"Leo!" Mrs. Bennett called out.

The boy came running out the back door, holding a small wooden box. He ran up to me and held it out.

"Grandpa said you'd need these," Leo said.

I opened the box. Inside were heavy steel bolts and a rolled-up blueprint.

I unrolled the paper. It was my father’s design for the treehouse. But as I looked closer at the bottom right corner, my heart stopped.