Chapter 309
**Tom**
The Richardson conference room buzzed with anticipation as Hudson and I stepped inside. The man himself, Finn Richardson, stood at the head of the table, his silver hair catching the afternoon light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Thomas Blackwood." Finn extended his hand. "Right on time."
"Finn Richardson." I shook his hand firmly. "Wouldn't miss it."
Hudson scurried to set up the presentation; his earlier coffee-induced calm completely evaporated. The poor guy's hands shook so badly that he nearly dropped the laptop.
"I see you've got one of the anxious ones," Finn whispered, nodding toward Hudson.
"He's actually calmer than usual. You should see him during tax season."
The meeting proceeded smoothly - charts, projections, and enough numbers to make an accountant weep. I presented our merger proposal while Hudson hovered nearby, ready to jump in with any required document at lightning speed.
"So," Finn leaned back in his chair, "you want to integrate Richardson Tech into Blackwood Industries."
"The synergy potential is undeniable." I pulled up the final slide. "Your tech division combined with our resources? We could revolutionize the market."
Finn drummed his fingers on the table. "And my concerns about employee retention?"
"All current positions secured for a minimum of three years, with performance-based increases." I smiled. "We're not looking to gut your company. We want to grow together."
Finn studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "We'll need time to consider your proposal," Finn said. "It's quite comprehensive."
I nodded, keeping my face neutral despite the urge to pump my fist in victory. In Richardson-speak, 'comprehensive' usually meant 'Where do I sign?'
"Of course. Take all the time you need." I closed my laptop with a satisfying click. "We wouldn't want you to rush such an important decision."
"Indeed." Finn stood, straightening his tie. "We'll review the details and get back to you in three days."
His team gathered their materials, a parade of suits and briefcases filing out of the conference room.
The door clicked shut behind them, and I allowed myself a small smile.
"Sir?" Hudson clutched his tablet like a shield. "Do you think they'll accept?"
"Hudson, did you see Richardson's face when we showed the projected growth numbers?" I loosened my tie. "The man looked like he'd just discovered Christmas comes twice a year."
"But he seemed so noncommittal."
"That's just Richardson's poker face. Trust me, by Thursday, we'll be celebrating." I gathered my papers, sliding them into my briefcase. "Take the rest of the day off."
Hudson's eyes lit up. "Thank you so much, sir! I can finally spend some time with my wife." He practically bounced on his heels. "She's been asking when I'll have a Sunday free."
"Go before I change my mind." I waved him off with a smirk. "Your efficiency is starting to make me look bad anyway."
"I'll see you tomorrow morning, Mr. Blackwood." Hudson clutched his tablet to his chest, already halfway to the door.
"Try to walk slower than light speed tomorrow, Hudson. The work isn't going anywhere."
He paused at the doorway, turning back with that ever-present earnest expression. "Of course, sir. Please don't hesitate to call if you need anything. Anything at all."
"Even if I need someone to bail me out of jail?"
"After today's incident, sir, I'd prefer not to joke about arrests." His face went slightly pale at the memory.
"Fair enough. Go enjoy your Sunday before you have an aneurysm."
We stepped out of the Richardson building together, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the plaza. Hudson practically vibrated with excitement beside me, his tablet still clutched to his chest like a security blanket.
"Sir, the presentation went perfectly! Your handling of the growth projections was masterful, and when you addressed their concerns about market volatility-"
"Hudson," I stopped walking and turned to face my overenthusiastic assistant. "You have exactly ten seconds to start your weekend before I drag you back inside for another meeting."
His eyes widened in horror. "But it's Sunday."
"Nine... eight..."
"Right! Yes! Weekend!" He scrambled backward, nearly colliding with a plant. "Enjoy your evening, Mr. Blackwood!"
"Seven..."
Hudson spun around so fast I worried he'd give himself whiplash. He power-walked toward the parking lot, occasionally glancing back as if afraid I'd actually chase him down with more work.
"Six... five..." I called after him, earning a few strange looks from passersby.
His walk transformed into a light jog.
"Four..."
He broke into a full sprint, weaving between parked cars like an Olympic athlete.
"Three- and he's gone." I chuckled, watching him disappear around the corner. The man moved surprisingly fast for someone who spent most of his time hunched over spreadsheets.
I pulled out my phone, scrolling past a dozen unread messages to find Leo's number. The little devil had some explaining to do.
The phone rang twice before Leo's voice filled my ear. "Big brother! How was the meeting?"
"You're in Sydney and didn't tell me?" I started walking toward the hotel, dodging tourists who seemed determined to stop in the middle of the sidewalk to take photos of literally everything.
"Wanted to surprise you! Did Harrison pull off the arrest prank?"
"If by 'pull off' you mean completely butcher it with a café menu warrant, then yes." A group of teenagers blocked the entire sidewalk, forcing me to step into the street. "Your friend needs acting lessons."
Leo's laughter echoed through the phone. "He used the menu? I told him to get fake papers printed!"
"Maybe next time, pick someone who doesn't giggle while pointing a fake gun." I waited at a crosswalk, watching a street performer juggle flaming batons. "Meeting's done, by the way."
"And? Did Richardson bite?"
"They're 'reviewing the details.' Standard corporate speak for 'where do I sign?'"
"That's my brother, crushing souls and buying companies." Leo's voice dripped with mock pride. "Father will be thrilled."
"Where are you hiding anyway?"
"Oh, just lounging in the suite across from yours. Nice view of the harbor from here."
"Stay right there." I quickened my pace toward the hotel. "I'm coming to end your life."
"Such violence! What would Mother say?" Leo's dramatic gasp carried a hint of laughter. "But sure, I'll wait. Got nowhere else to be except this incredibly comfortable couch. The bar is pretty decent, too."
"Keep talking. The more you drink, the easier it'll be to throw you off the balcony." I weaved through the hotel lobby, nodding at the concierge.
"Empty threats, Tom. We both know you love me too much."
"Watch me." I hung up, sliding my phone into my pocket with perhaps more force than necessary.
The hotel hallway stretched before me, filled with gleaming marble and pretentious art pieces that probably cost more than most people's yearly salaries. A couple hurried past, the woman's heels clicking against the floor like some demented metronome.
I took my time walking to Leo's suite, plotting various methods of fraternal revenge.
The suite door loomed ahead, golden numbers catching the soft hallway light. I pressed the doorbell, hearing its muffled chime echo inside.
"Who is it?" Leo's sing-song voice called out.
"Room service. I've brought your order of painful death with a side of revenge."
"Sorry, I didn't order that. Perhaps try the room next door?"
"Open the door, Leo."
"Can't hear you over the sound of this excellent whiskey I'm drinking."
I pressed the doorbell again. And again. And again.
"You know," Leo's voice drifted through the door, "if you keep that up, someone will call security."
"Good. I'll tell them about your fake arrest scheme. How many years do you think that gets you?"
"Probably less than the time you'll get for murdering your beloved brother."
"Only if they find the body." I jabbed the doorbell one more time for good measure.