“Exactly, and those who don’t adapt will loose relevance. You’re the first analyst we’ve found who’s not only thinking ahead, but also looking at people and not just the company as a whole.”
“And I don’t do anything halfway.”
"Traditional methods would have me locked into one approach and weeks if not months off headaches planning how to pivot. But your daughter just offered up a chess master's playbook of moves and countermoves.” He smiles then, and offers his hand. “So, Ms. McAdams, that’s checkmate. Bold wins.”
Victory is a rush of blood charging through me until I’m dizzy with the force of it.
I took control. Delivered. Forced my father to see me.
“I’ll make sure you don’t regret it,” I say as I shake his hand, fighting to stay in the moment when a dull roar flares to life in my head, growing louder with each passing second and new revelation.
In forcing my father to see me, I see myself clearly now too.
And victory doesn’t taste the way I expected.
Ethan’s little boy lets out a wail that has even the cool, calm, and collected CEO wincing. “So on that shrill note, I’ll be in touch next week. My team wants to meet you in person. My assistant will hammer out the details with you for whatever fits best in your schedule. Sound good?”
“Yes, sure. Absolutely. Great.” The words should be enthusiastic, but instead, I’m breathless and fighting for balance as everything I thought I knew about what I thought I wanted pitches on record-setting stormy seas.
Ethan shakes my father’s hand then, and they exchange words I can’t hear over the new reality thundering through my head.
A reality that changes everything.
Ethan and his wife steer their kids to the tree, leaving my father standing before me. Finally taking a good hard look at me.
And from his expression, seeing what’s been in front of him all along.
His face is calm, almost self-effacing, with a slight dip of the chin speaking volumes without a single word. “Sounds like your old man has had this wrong the whole time—sounds like the company could use a leader like you.”
It’s everything I thought I wanted. I should take it. Old me would have taken it. Pre-Chance me would have called it an epic victory.
Chance’s gaze travels over me, patiently waiting with a secret smile as if he already knows what I’m about to say. And he probably does. Because he sees me in ways no one ever has.
“I don’t want it.” In my head the words are scary, but out loud, they’re… freedom.
The chatter dies on my words.
Charlie chokes on her champagne. Eve smacks her back while simultaneously giving me a thumbs up.
“What?” Nick’s voice cuts through the silence, his jaw slack. He looks at me like I’m some unsolvable equation, a missing piece to a puzzle he’s just now realizing isn’t whole.
And he’s right—from the outside looking in I’m not whole—even when, for the first time, I actually am.
But not for any of the reasons he can possibly come up with.
It’s the piece he doesn’t know exists for me.
Chance.
Chance, who believes in me every second of every day and reinforces what I’ve known all along.
Chance, who saw my hyper-focus on the goal and knew I might miss the bigger picture, kind of like he did.
Chance, who believes my talent is bigger than any inherited legacy.
Chance, who knows fathers should clean up their own messes and children are meant to shatter expectations, not be weighed down by them.
"You've always wanted it," my father says, like maybe I've forgotten my lifelong mission.
