Page 10 of Worth the Risk
“What’s your solution?” Harrison asks, though his tone suggests he’s already decided what that solution should be.
I think about Maya’s fierce defense of Highland yesterday, about the incorporation papers scattered across my office floor like fallen dreams. About Harrison’s systematic stonewalling and his threat to question my leadership if I don’t fall in line.
“I propose we engage directly with Highland’s leadership,” I say. “Offer to collaborate on finding alternative solutions that address their concerns while protecting our investment.”
The silence that follows could freeze hell.
Melanie actually laughs. “You want us to negotiate with protesters?”
“I want us to control the narrative,” I correct. “Right now, Maya Navarro is writing the story, and we’re cast as the villains. If we bring her to the table, we become partners seeking solutions.”
“Solutions that still result in Highland’s demolition,” Harrison says flatly.
“Eventually, yes. But it gives us time to manage the optics while we handle legal and regulatory requirements. We look reasonable, they feel heard, and business proceeds as planned.”
It’s a cynical strategy—exactly the kind of calculated manipulation my father would have approved. Appear to make concessions while maintaining complete control of the outcome.
The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
“How long?” Patricia asks.
“A few weeks. Maybe a month. Long enough to demonstrate good faith while we finalize demolition preparations.”
“And you think Maya Navarro will agree to this collaboration?” Donovan’s skepticism drips from every word.
I think about Maya’s intelligence, her refusal to back down, the way she organized eight hundred forty-three signatures while being systematically ignored. “I think she’ll see it as an opportunity to explore alternatives.”
“Alternatives that don’t exist,” Donovan points out.
“Alternatives we’ll help her discover don’t exist,” I clarify. “By the end of the process, Highland will have exhausted every option, and Pierce Enterprises will be positioned as having gone above and beyond.”
Harrison studies me for a long moment. Outside, the protesters have started a new chant, something about corporate greed and community needs. The sound carries through thirty floors of glass and steel—a reminder that Maya Navarro isn’t disappearing quietly.
“One month,” Harrison says finally. “You have one month to make this work. If it doesn’t resolve cleanly, we move to more direct methods.”
Something in his tone makes my skin crawl. “What kind of direct methods?”
“The kind your father would have used.” Harrison stands, signaling the meeting’s end. “Maxwell never let sentiment interfere with business necessity. Don’t disappoint his memory, Declan.”
After the board members file out, I’m left alone with the newspaper article about Maya and Highland. The photo draws my attention again—Maya speaking with complete conviction, unaware that thirty floors above her, six people in expensive suits were discussing her community’s fate like a line item on a budget spreadsheet.
My phone buzzes with another text:
Maya:
Hope your morning meetings went well. The coffee offer stands when you’re ready to talk.
I stare at the message, wondering how she knew I was in meetings. Then I realize she probably watched the board members arrive. Maya Navarro pays attention to everything.
Which means she’ll see through any manipulation I attempt. She’ll know if I’m offering genuine collaboration or just buying time to destroy her father’s legacy more quietly.
The thought should concern me. Instead, it’s almost... refreshing. When was the last time someone challenged me to be honest instead of strategic?
I pocket my phone without responding and return to the window. The crowd has grown larger, with people spilling onto adjacent sidewalks. A police car idles at the corner—officers watching but not intervening. Maya has choreographed this perfectly: large enough to be unmissable, controlled enough to remain legal.
She’s not just passionate. She’s smart. Dangerously smart.
“Sir?” Jessica appears in the doorway with her ever-present iPad. “PR wants guidance on a statement, and Legal needs to know if we’re pursuing injunction options.”
