by Aly Stiles
Ashton,
You might not need this, but someone needs to give it to you. Hope all is well.
K.A.
Chapter Twenty-Four
IRIS
It takes two full weeks for me to finally accept that Ashton was serious about our breakup. For two full weeks I dream about him, think about him, cry over him, and lust after him until cold hard reality hits in week three. Ashton is gone, and now I’m faced with a future I don’t want. When one of my roommates calls to coordinate our move back to campus, my limbs tingle with panic. I hang up, shaken instead of excited.
I stare at my course load for the fall semester, my stomach filled with dread. Nothing on the list makes me want to go back. Everything makes me want to run and hide. It’s like that brief time with Ashton has awakened something inside me, forced my aimless existence into sharp focus. For the first time in my life I wanted something. I didn’t just want it, I couldn’t imagine my life without it, and now that I know how it feels to have your purpose in sync with your heart, I can’t stomach going back to pretending anything less is okay.
I may have lost Ashton, but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep looking for something else that will make my soul come alive like he did. There’s something for me out there, but I’ll never find it if I settle for living someone else’s dreams, even if those dreams belong to a father you love dearly.
Ashton showed me how lucky I am to have the world at my fingertips. The freedom I have to be the kind of person I want to be. I owe it to him and myself to use what I have to make the biggest impact I can. He’s trapped by circumstances outside of his control, but I’m only trapped by my own limited perspective. I just know if he were in my shoes, he’d do everything he could to change the world and probably succeed. What am I going to do with my opportunity?
Closing the textbook, I open my laptop instead and start a new search. I’ve always had a heart for helping people, but I want to do more than volunteer once in a while and donate some food and money. I’m in a unique situation to be able to give more, do more, and be more, which means more should be expected of me. I owe the world more because of my talent and privilege, not the other way around.
As I search late into the night, I start to see a pattern that both warms my heart and sparks a flare of excitement. Dad’s name keeps popping up, along with several of his companies. He wasn’t exaggerating about all the philanthropic work he’s been responsible for over the years, but the projects and donations are scattered in what seems like haphazard efforts. He clearly wants to help people as well, but his skillset is in making money, not sharing it. And that’s where my idea comes in.
Maybe there’s a way I can follow my father and my heart.
I spend the next week working on my idea. First research, then sketching the outline of a proposal, then fleshing it out into a full business plan. It’s interesting how those classes I’ve hated over the years suddenly seem useful and fun now that I’m applying the knowledge to something I’m passionate about.
It also delivers a fresh sting every time I want to pick up the phone and run a thought by Ash, knowing he’d have an idea or perspective I hadn’t considered. He’s got such a strategic brain. He’s had to in order to survive. I can only imagine what it could do if it were unleashed and free to pursue its potential instead of being stifled by circumstance.
In the long list of wrongs against him, this feels like the biggest injustice of them all. The entire world is being denied someone like Ashton because of a few misfortunes and betrayals outside of his control. Maybe one day he’ll let someone help break him out, but for now, I can do my part to help others who could use a bit of hope.
When I feel confident in my proposal, I message my dad, asking for a formal meeting. I know based on his response that he’s surprised by my strange request, but I want him to take me seriously as an entrepreneur, not his daughter asking for a favor. I want him to greenlight my idea because it’s a good one, not because he wants to make me happy.
At three-thirty, I wait in a chair outside his office, exchanging awkward small talk with his assistant until he finally opens his door and waves me in. I smile and nod, even holding out my hand for a good old-fashioned shake. His lips tick up in amusement, and okay. Maybe that was a bit much.
“How can I help you today, Ms. Alexander?” he asks, still smiling with his eyes, even though his face has resumed its stoic business expression.
I lower myself to one of the chairs at a table in the corner of his office and wave him toward the neighboring seat.
“I have a presentation and proposal I’d like to run by you,” I say, pulling up the slides on my laptop.
“Really. On what topic?”
“My future.”
He looks startled, and I suck in a quick breath. I can’t back down. I have to stay strong and understand that by not being honest about what I want for my life I’m not being fair to either of us. He should have a right-hand who lives and breathes his world like he does, not someone who’d rather be doing pretty much anything else.
Here goes nothing.
I click to the first slide. “We’ve hinted for many years that I would follow in your footsteps in the management of your businesses.”
“Hinted? It’s been pretty well established,” he says with a smile. He thinks he’s helping, and I blink back to my screen before I lose my nerve.
“Well, over these past few weeks, I’ve learned a lot about myself. Some of it was flattering, some of it not. What I ultimately learned was the importance of making the most of the little time we have on this earth and doing what I can to make a difference.”
His eyes soften with understanding, and I start to breathe a little easier. I can’t believe I’ve been so afraid to talk to him. If anyone was going to understand, it’s my father.
“Does this recent epiphany have anything to do with a certain young man who came into your life?”
I swallow and look away, a sharp pain piercing my chest. Dad and I have had plenty of tearful conversations about this topic since the breakup, so I know he appreciates the full weight of that statement.
“In part, yes,” I say quietly. “But I also think all it did was awaken a passion that was already there. He didn’t carve my path, just inspired me to find it. Which bring us to this.”
I click to the next slide listing dozens of charitable endeavors my father’s companies have been responsible for based on my research. Another slide shows the significant amount of funding dedicated to those projects.
Dad looks confused after I finish my review of all the work he’s done. “You know I think it’s important to share and give back,” he says, maybe even a little defensively.
I nod, a smile growing on my lips. He’s being led exactly where I want him to go. “But how are these needs determined? Who chooses which charities and projects to support?”
He shrugs. “I guess we just become aware of an issue and decide to help. Sometimes it’s an employee who brings up the idea, other times I come across a cause or need that touches me.”
“And when the decision is made to get involved, who organizes these ventures?”
He leans back in his chair. “Depends. Sometimes the department that proposed it. If it was my idea, I put Lorena or one of my junior people on it.”
“How does that typically go?”
His smile turns sheepish. “That also varies. Some seem to be better at organizing than others.”
I nod and flip to my next slide labeled, The Alexander Global Fund.
He straightens in his chair, studying my screen with open interest.
“In an effort to streamline and grow our global involvement in giving back, I would like to propose that the Alexander companies establish a dedicated organization responsible for all philanthropic work by its member firms. This will be a centralized body that will be able to proactively seek out opportunities for engagement and accomplish its mission in a coordinated manner, thus eliminating waste and allow
ing funds and human resources to be used more efficiently and effectively.”
I click to the next slide highlighting how many hours and dollars are wasted by unorganized, well-meaning attempts, not just at the Alexander companies, but in many charitable pursuits that lack the infrastructure to execute their mission as efficiently as possible.
“By setting up this organization from scratch, we can structure it exactly how we need it.”
The next slide shows a proposed budget using the same funds donated the previous fiscal year, but in a more coordinated, streamlined way under this proposal. “Based on my projections, one full-time dedicated employee would equal the time spent by three un-trained corporate employees taking hours from their area of expertise to execute these charitable projects instead. We will continue encouraging employees to participate and volunteer, of course, but coordination efforts will be handled by the Global Fund.”
My final slide is my least favorite, but Dad is a businessman. He has a good heart, but he also has thousands of people relying on him to make wise decisions for the business as well.
“We also can’t overlook the public relations impact of having a recognizable, permanent representation of the Alexander companies’ commitment to philanthropy. Right now, when you donate or fund a project, it’s a singular event with a blip of visibility. By establishing a permanent enterprise, one entity would be recognized for all work and maintain a constant presence in the public eye. If we do this right and stay true to our mission, the Alexander name could be associated with sharing its wealth as much as generating it.”
I close my laptop, looking Dad straight in the eye.
“I know your good heart, Daddy. I just think it’s time the rest of the world sees it as well. I was never wired to stand beside you as a representation of Alexander business acumen. Let me work beside you as a representation of Alexander compassion.”
Dad is quiet when I stop talking.
I wait nervously for his response, my foot tapping a rapid rhythm on the floor. But even if he says no, this idea has taught me where my heart is and where it’s not. If Dad doesn’t think there’s room for my services in his empire, I’m sure I can find another organization who could use my passion to its fullest. Maybe I could even start my own one day.
After a long silence, Dad clears his throat, and I look up to see a sheen in his eyes.
“Come here,” he rasps out.
Tears flood my own as I lean into him.
“I’m the luckiest father in the world, Iris. Promise me you will never compromise who you are.”
Dad needs more time with my plan and asked me to come back with some clarifications and fleshed-out concepts, but overall, he loved the idea.
In fact, he made me cry all over again when he said it was so good, he’d execute it even if I didn’t want to head up the monumental task of forming an organization from scratch and getting it off the ground. I assured him there was nothing I’d rather do, and showed him an online program I found that will allow me to shift my major to a nonprofit management degree. Even better, from my initial research it looks like most of my credits would transfer, so I might even be able to graduate on time.
I’ve just grabbed an iced tea from the fridge when I hear Ivy and her irritating friends laughing in the great room. My sister and I have hardly spoken a word to each other since that blow up about Ashton several weeks ago. Honestly, I lose no sleep over it. I have nothing to say to her until she decides to work on herself as much as she works on what everyone else thinks of her.
“Oh, whatever happened to that cutie your sister was dating? Haven’t seen him around much.”
I freeze, my stomach dropping, then clenching in anger. It’s none of their business. They have no right to even talk about a person so far above them on the human scale, let alone gossip about him. I know I should walk away, but I can’t get my feet to move as I hover just out of sight at the entrance to the room.
It’s Ashton. My heart will always stop and wait for Ashton.
“Yeah, I took care of that,” my sister says in a smug voice.
My blood runs cold.
“You took care of it? What does that mean?” Harmony asks with a laugh.
“Nothing a little phone call to his boss couldn’t fix. He dumped her the next day from what I understand.”
I can’t breathe, my stomach now in my feet. What is she saying? Oh god. What did she do?!
Sudden rage steels into determination I wish I’d had that first evening at Shelton’s. I’d left Ashton alone in the crosshairs of these vipers that night. Not this time.
I storm into the room, my gaze fixed hotly on my sister. “What are you talking about?” I hiss.
She jumps, along with the rest of her friends, but I ignore them all as I stalk to her couch. “What the fuck did you do to Ashton?”
She recoils against the cushion, fear flickering over her face before she manages to recover with an indifferent shrug.
“Nothing he didn’t deserve. You all did for choosing him over your own sister and daughter,” she quips.
“You have no idea what he does and doesn’t deserve. You could never understand because you aren’t even a fraction of the person he is. Now what did you do, Ivy?”
Her eyes narrow coldly, and my heart tightens in a violent clench. “If you’re so concerned, why don’t you ask your boyfriend?”
She crosses her arms, making it clear that’s all I’m going to get.
Furious, I rip a pillow from the couch and sling it into her face as I storm away.
Ivy yelps behind me. “God, it was just a joke, Iris! He’ll get over it!” she shouts after me.
I stalk to my car, my anger now mixing with a pain so deep, I can’t even think straight. Dad’s still at work, but I’m going to need his strength as much as his wisdom and connections for any investigation into this bombshell. I feel sick as I call him to give him a heads up I’m on my way. He doesn’t answer, and I leave a message that gets more frantic with each passing second. I hang up, panic building with every light, every terrifying interpretation of what Ivy’s words could mean.
The only thing I know for sure: Ashton can’t afford any of them.
When I finally reach Dad’s office building, I’m not even sure I remember to lock my doors as I rush inside. I bang the elevator button to his floor, ignoring the curious looks of the occupants. I’m long past caring what other people think of me.
I step out of the elevator and head straight to my father’s assistant.
“Lorena, is my Dad in there?” I blurt out, approaching her desk.
“Yes, but—”
That’s all I need to know.
“Iris! He’s in a—”
I don’t hear the rest as I push through his door, breathing hard. Three sets of eyes shoot over to me in alarm, with my dad’s quickly shifting into concern.
“Iris?” he asks in confusion. “Everything okay?”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. The tears that had boiled into steam this entire drive over suddenly cool back into liquid. I shake my head when no words escape.
“I’m going to have to reschedule,” Dad says to the others. “Family emergency.”
They mumble a response I don’t comprehend and eye me as they leave. I’m shaking by the time Dad closes the door and directs me to a chair.
“Iris, what is it? What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
I blink at him, willing the words out of my mouth. “Ivy… Ivy did something.”
“Your sister? Is she hurt?”
I shake my head again, squeezing my nails into my palms. “No, she hurt Ashton. I don’t know what she did but I heard her say something about talking to his boss to get back at us.”
Dad leans in his chair, looking as confused as I feel. “I don’t understand. Which boss? Why would she speak to Ashton’s boss?”
“I… I don’t know. That’s what we need to find out. She must be referring to the landscaping guy.”
I nod, wiping at my eyes. “Please, Dad. Call him. Find out what happened. This must be why he broke up with me!”
“Wait, you think Ivy is responsible for Ashton breaking up with you?”
“I don’t know! That’s why we need to find out. Oh god, what if…” I can’t even finish the thought.
“What did Ivy say about it?”
I give him a look, and he sighs. “Okay, yeah. Hang on, let me find the number.”
Time seems ridiculously slow as my father scrolls through his contacts at what feels like a snail’s pace. I’m about to snatch the device out of his hand to do it myself when he finally places the phone on his desk and puts the call on speaker. After a few rings, a man’s voice picks up.
“Mr. Alexander, hello. Good to hear from you.” The guy sounds nervous, and Dad’s own expression sinks. My dad can read people and situations better than anyone.
Something is definitely wrong.
“Hi, Lane. I was hoping to discuss something with you.”
“If this is about the allegations, I’m so sorry, Mr. Alexander. I assure you I took care of it immediately.”
“Took care of it? Took care of what?” Dad’s alarmed gaze meets mine across the desk.
“Your daughter said one of my guys was bothering her. But please don’t worry. I fired him that night. We don’t tolerate that kind of behavior. If she’s planning to press charges, of course you have my full cooperation, sir.”
Air siphons from the room. I can’t breathe as I collapse into the chair. My entire body goes numb.
“The employee you’re referring to is Ashton Morgan?”
“Ashton, yes. I’d never had an issue with him before, so it came as a surprise, I assure you. Otherwise, I never would have—”
“Right, yes.” Dad waves off the comment with impatience. “And how long ago did this incident occur?”
“Oh, maybe four or five weeks? Again, you have my sincerest apologies, sir. I assure you—”