Page 77 of The Producer: Aaron

“Say hello to my brother when you see him and tell him to call me. I know he has an agency that grinds millions of dollars, but he could answer my calls every now and then.” I wink at him as he grabs the door handle, ready to get out.

“I’ll tell him when I bring him the bill for these five minutes of work,” he answers, laughing before exiting the room and leaving us again occupied with my father’s last wishes.

A vice tightens my stomach. Few times in my life have I felt so nervous that I physically perceived it on my body, but this time the reason is one of those that cannot be ignored. I have dedicated sixteen years of my life to this moment. I’ve sacrificed holidays, weekends, evenings to devote myself to my passions. I gave up my private life, bowing my head on the desk and working to prove to my father that I am the worthy heir to his empire. I supported him in his decisions, created an entire division of this company from scratch, and made sure to rejuvenate it to keep up with the times. I took what my grandfather started and took it to the next level.

I would have preferred this step to happen with my father, who decides to retire rather than with his death, but the result doesn’t change. This morning I will walk out of this room as the head of my father’s empire, with seventy percent of a company for which I sweated, shed tears, loved, and hated at the same time. It has been a sixteen-year-long ordeal, but it will finally be mine.

The first half hour is spent rattling off the list of his possessions. My mother takes the houses, and I have the art pieces and his investments. The yacht goes to my mother, the private planes to me. It’s a long list of luxuries I’ve always been immersed in since birth but only now do I realize how much they’re worth. There are pages and pages of goods that, if sold, could feed an entire third-world nation.

I wait calmly until the part that interests me most, and when the lawyer gets to the Steel Broadcasting Company, my back straightens, and my attention returns to him.

“The streaming division of the company remains separate from the company itself and goes to Aaron Steel Jr.,” he announces, and I expected that. Although everyone knows it as a part of the parent company, legally, the two companies have always been separate. Now that piece is one hundred percent mine and not shared with my father. I smile because it’s the first victory.

“Forty percent of the company’s Class A shares go to Sharon Rachel Lee Steel, while thirty percent of the Class B shares go to Aaron Steel Jr.,” the lawyer’s voice punctuates the words as he looks me in the eye.

I’m focused on his impassive face as I record the words he just uttered. It takes me a few seconds before I realize what he said, and my stomach freezes in a feeling of disbelief and terror that I didn’t think I could feel. I observe my mother’s lawyer, who seems uncomfortable on that couch.

“I beg your pardon?” My voice comes out still but a few octaves lower than usual.

The lawyer clears his throat, and for the first time since we sat here, he drops the mask and seems nervous.

“Your mother has forty percent of the Class A shares that give her the right to vote at the board meetings. You have thirty percent of the company but no voting rights. The Class B shares have no right to vote, but you have dividends at the end of the year,” he explains to me as if I were a kid who has no idea what he’s talking about.

“I know what Class A and Class B shares are. Class B shares are those you give to your wife when you sign the prenup to prevent her from ruining the company if you divorce. They have zero value as far as control of the company is concerned!” I shout.

“Aaron, I know it’s a surprise, but you still have thirty percent of the company. At the end of the year, you will take home anice nest egg with dividends.” He tries to convince me that this situation is a good deal for me.

The anger that boils inside me almost makes me spit the rancid taste I have in my mouth on the carpet. My mother’s lawyer doesn’t dare to breathe, focused on studying the situation to understand if it’s better to run before a fight breaks out. I can’t blame him since I could punch the man with the will in his hand right now.

“Surprise? Do you really think it’s a surprise? I sacrificed my whole life for this company to be able to run it when my father retired. I’ve been spitting blood for sixteen years, and he gives the majority of control to a woman who is upstairs right now so stuffed with drugs and alcohol that she’s drooling over her pillow. A woman who can’t even get out of bed in the morning, let alone decide where to lead one of the biggest broadcasting companies in this country. I worked my entire life for a company I can’t lead.” I’m so furious that I feel the blood pumping into my ears.

The two men in front of me have the decency to look down and say nothing. There is perhaps some pity for me in their silence. Everyone in this industry knows I would have taken the company’s reins once my father was out of the game. I had the confirmation at his funeral when everyone came to kiss my ass and prostrate themselves at my feet, aware that it was my turn to be the largest shark in the tank.

If my father were here right now, I would punch him in the face; this thought reminds me that I have already done it. I dared only once to challenge him. Perhaps this is his way of taking revenge for my insubordination. Once. Just once, and it cost me everything I’ve built in sixteen years. The icy chill that runs down my spine makes me short of breath.

“When was this will last amended?” My voice comes out almost in a muffled whisper as if my body refuses to deal with my father again.

“Four years ago.” He looks me in the eye for the first time after giving me the news.

“So he didn’t do it after I punched him.” It’s not because of Dakota.

While this news cheers me because it means I haven’t blown up a lifetime of work for not keeping my anger at bay, I feel hollowed out when I realize that my father never intended to leave me his company, no matter how much I sweated to get it.

“The new version was drafted when the streaming division was opened to add its fifty percent to the list of its assets,” he confirms.

The feeling of emptiness inside is so immense that my head is spinning. I get up under the perplexed gazes of the two lawyers and walk to the door.

“Where are you going? It’s not over yet,” my father’s lawyer tries to protest, but his lips tighten as soon as he crosses my gaze.

“For me, there is nothing left in here that is worth staying for,” I say before opening the door and leaving at a slow pace.

The sense of stillness that permeates my chest is strange. There is no more anger, disappointment, disbelief, or that desire to destroy something. There is only a sense of emptiness that anesthetizes my every feeling. I spent years controlling my emotions, but only at this moment do I turn them off completely. This will was my father’s lastfuck youthat he sent me from the grave. He managed to make me feel small and useless like he did all my life. But this time, the insult is so evil, violent, and definitive that it no longer hurts.

As soon as I see Tracy, Aaron’s assistant, near the chair on the set with my name written on it, my heart stops for a beat. Since he was at his mother’s house last week for his father’s will, he has become another person. He has closed in on himself and spent the nights in his home office, rarely coming out. Some nights he doesn’t even come to bed, and I wake up in the dark looking for him in the large house that seems uninhabited. Then I see the light filtering through from under his studio door, and my heart sinks into my chest.

When the director stops the scene, I approach her with my heart hammering in my chest. Her half-smile almost makes me want to run away to not receive bad news that I don’t know if I could bear.

“Do you have any idea where Aaron is?” she asks without even bothering to say hello.

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