Chapter 8
Arthur crossed his arms, his expression hardening slightly with protective pride. "We don't need charity, Mr. Vance. Leo did what he did because it was the right thing to do. We’re surviving. We’ll keep surviving."
"I'm not offering charity, Arthur," Julian said, leaning forward slightly, resting his forearms on the worn table. "I'm offering justice, and I'm offering a partnership."
Arthur frowned, uncrossing his arms and stepping closer. "What are you talking about?"
"The police have my wife in custody, and my legal team is tearing apart every corporate asset she touched over the past two years," Julian explained calmly. "She used shell companies to siphon funds, and she used your former employer to cover her tracks. But the audit is a mess. My corporate office is bloated, full of yes-men and people who looked the other way while graft happened right under their noses."
Julian paused, letting his gaze drift to Leo before returning to Arthur.
"I need someone I can trust. Someone who saw the rot from the bottom up and refused to be part of it. I'm restructuring my logistics division. I need a director who knows how every gear in that building actually turns, from the loading dock to the executive suites."
Arthur stared at Julian in stunned silence. The proposition was staggering—a massive leap from scrubbing floors and dodging unjust terminations to running a corporate division for one of the city's wealthiest conglomerates.
"You don't even know me, Mr. Vance," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I'm a kitchen grunt."
"I know you raised a boy who walked into a room full of wolves to save a stranger," Julian said simply. "That tells me everything I need to know about your character."
Leo stepped forward from the hallway, his eyes wide. "Does that mean Dad doesn't have to work the night shift anymore?"
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Julian smiled faintly, the first genuine smile he had worn in months. "It means your dad is going to have a real office with a view, Leo. If he'll take the job."
Arthur looked down at his son, then back at Julian, a slow, disbelieving breath escaping his lips as the heavy weight of years of struggle finally began to lift.
