Page 43 of Behind These Four Walls
Isla nodded vigorously.
Victor stood and leaned over his desk, his sharp eyes scanning the layout. “This is ...”
She held her breath, while Dixon and Myles looked as if they were waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Ambitious,” he finished, to her big expelling of breath.
“Ambition is the only way to do justice to a legacy like yours, Mr. Corrigan,” she said seriously. “Think about what you said earlier about having to be practically perfect as a Black person to get acceptance and be taken seriously, like a real contender. This isn’t just about a Man of the Year award in my book. It’s about telling a story that will resonate long after the event—not just for the business world, but for those who have a dream, are up and coming, and look like you. Now they have a model to follow.”
“Laying it on extra thick,” Myles said under his breath. This time what she gave him wasn’t a smile. She wished it could be her middle finger.
Victor seemed to agree, his lips twitching with the faintest semblance of amusement. “I’m not one for flattery, Isla Thorne. Let me hear your plan.”
Not to be deterred by either one of them, she began to lay it out, telling them how the story would follow the typical three-act structure. The first would focus on his upbringing—his drive and determination to use what his father had started and build on it to create his empire.
Victor made a noise she took as approval.
“Second,” she continued, “I’ll highlight how you built the Corrigan Group, the Foundation, and their overall global influence, especially your outreach in Africa. That’s really significant. I love how you’re big on finding roots and going home to them. Even if there are those whosay their roots begin here in America with their enslaved ancestors, your outreach gives credence and value to knowing where you’re from, wherever you’re from.”
Victor looked at his right-hand man. “She’s good, right? We could use her in marketing. Maybe in Special Projects and Research, hmm, Myles?”
“All right, Dad,” Myles said, like he’d had enough.
Victor was unaffected. “Well, if you don’t want her, I’m sure Bennett would be more than happy to have Isla working in one of the areas he heads up.” Victor was enjoying himself a little too much, and Isla didn’t like feeling like she was being passed around or about to be betrothed to anyone.
She demurred. “Let’s not get carried away. Okay?” Victor shrugged as if it were her loss. “And we’ll end by focusing on your role as family patriarch and your ongoing contributions to philanthropy and support of research and the Virginia and national libraries, among other philanthropic ventures.”
Victor watched the screen. His silence encouraged Isla to continue.
“To keep it authentic, I’d like to include some of your challenges along the way. For example, the market crash of ’08 and how you navigated the company through it. How you deal with issues then versus now.” She hesitated, feigning a pause of deliberation. “Like the recent trouble in LA with your employee who passed away unexpectedly after being involved in some scandal.”
Victor’s sharp eyes bored into her, trying to read her intent. His expression didn’t betray much except that she shouldn’t mistake his politeness for trust. The frost in the room was so real, she almost lost her courage.
He asked coolly, “And how exactly do you plan to fitthatinto a story meant to showcase my accomplishments?”
Isla acknowledged his concern, adjusting her stance. She kept her tone even, ensuring the sudden case of nerves she felt didn’t come through when she spoke. “You know I’ve already done somepreliminary research. It’s how I came up with all this overnight. What happened in LA is public knowledge, and since I live there, it was big news. A huge company. Death of an employee. Including something like that—acknowledging that there are pitfalls to go along with your successes and not everything is perfect—humanizes you. It kind of makes you relatable, especially to many who view you as larger than life. Like me, right? I was blown away when you said you like Big Macs and Hi-C Orange.”
“Really, Dad?” Myles said, sneaking a look at Dixon, who feigned ignorance.
Isla chimed in, “No, but that’s great. That’s relatable. People respect honesty and resilience, and the Man of the Year is one who will give them all that.”
Victor’s attention had gone elsewhere, and he said softly, “You’ll find there are parts of my life that don’t fit neatly into any narrative. Some things are better left out entirely.”
Isla’s pulse quickened, but she kept her tone steady. “Sure, Mr. Corrigan. I only want to tell your story the way you want it told—the way it needs to be told,” she added pointedly. “But sometimes the things we leave out are just as important as the things we include. They shape the context, if you know what I mean.”
He settled back in his chair, looking thoughtful, as she began gathering the storyboard. When he gave permission, she removed the USB drive, sure that it had done its job and gotten Rey’s worm in.
He asked, “For example?”
It was now or never. Who knew when she’d get this chance again, and even though they weren’t alone, she felt Dixon and Myles wouldn’t be a hindrance.
“Well.” The room felt smaller, warmer, because though Myles had been there the entire time, his presence had become hard to ignore, and she was finding it harder to stay on track with the way he trained his attention on her.
She purposely swept her eyes over the wall behind Victor’s seat until they landed on a photo she’d noted when she came in. She’d waited until the right moment to bring it up. All the kids were displayed in their own separate five-by-seven picture frames, smiling—or sort of smiling, in Myles’s case—including Eden.
“I see all the Corrigan kids, but she is? A cousin?” Isla prompted.
She was pointing to a picture of Eden sitting on the edge of one of the fountains on the property, her dark hair wild in the wind, her expression bright and carefree. It was so at odds with the memories Isla had in her mind of the super-serious girl who was filled with so much sadness and contempt. Very rarely had Isla gotten to see Eden like this, and never again after her mother died.