Page 164 of Broken Brothers

I almost began to wonder if this was actually John Burnson or if someone had secretly replaced the old man with an actor of some kind.

“How are you, buddy? I have a lot to tell you. Oh, let me tell you, so much has happened since you left. Have a seat. Let me explain it all. It’s crazy. You should know—”

I knew I wasn’t going to get a word in for probably a good five to ten minutes. I sat back, relaxed in the chair, crossed my legs, and let Mr. Burnson have his moment of confession as I patiently waited for my turn.

“So, get this. Shortly after you left, the stress in my life was killer. Almost literally. I kept coming to work, thinking about what you had said when you quit, and it burned at me. Not your fault, mind you, I just created an environment that led to people quitting like that. Oh, don’t give me that look, young man, you were far from the first person to make such a dramatic scene!”

He then let out a bellow of a laugh. I could hardly believe this was John Burnson—it was like he’d been born again or some sort of other religious revival. This was just too crazy to believe, and yet, I had no choice but to believe it, as the office setup, the title, and enough features of his face were enough to confirm this was still Mr. Burnson.

“In any case, after all of that, one day, I’m sitting here on a Monday. Things are just all going to hell. Awful, horrible, terrible. And then, wouldn’t you know it, I get a massive heart attack. A terrible one. A really enormous one. Thank heavens for Donna outside, she called 911 and had someone come and get me immediately; doctors later told me if they’d showed up five minutes later I’d be dead. Let me pause and make clear, Chance—not your fault! I was just in a bad place.”

“No kidding—”

“But anyways! That was the first time I’d really detached from the business enough to think about everything that had happened.”

Aside from all the golf games you were notorious for playing in. But that’s a different conversation.

“I realized that I was doing the business all wrong. I was burning myself out by trying to be so involved with everything, and when I got stressed, I didn’t look at myself unless it was in the mirror by the golf course.”

Oh, so maybe you do know. And maybe this is that same conversation.

“I had to do a lot of self-reflection, and I realized it started with my attitude! So, ever since that incident, I’ve just done everything I can to make sure that my attitude is more upbeat and has less anger. I’ve tried to get rid of all of the negativity in my life, and here I am, a healthy man, a happy man, and one looking to close out his life in a healthy, strong manner!”

To say that my jaw dropped was an understatement, because it felt like my entire body had dropped to the floor in sheer disbelief. Of all the stories I had heard about executives on Wall Street and in Manhattan as a whole, very few had ever had a turn like this. Most of them either became more intense, had to outright quit, or just simply croaked in the seat. This was… this was stunning.

I was speechless.

“Surprised?” Mr. Burnson finally said with a chuckle. “My family is too. None of them ever expected me to accomplish this. Guess I proved them wrong!”

“No kidding,” I said, becoming slightly fearful that this sudden change in spirit might actually work against me—I didn’t want to have to deal with a Mr. Burnson who refused to face the negativity that my adopted father had brought to the world. He could be upbeat and giddy as much as he wanted, but I needed to know there was at least some part of him willing to face the darkness and help me out.

“But enough about me! Heaven knows my family will help me write a book that’ll get me to shut everyone up at some point. What’s going on with you? Everything all good with Mr. Hunt?”

Noticeably, Mr. Burnson’s energy seemed to dip just a tad when he mentioned Edwin’s name; it also seemed a bit forced, like he didn’t want to say his name but had to fake a smile while doing so.

“You got time, too?” I said with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah,” Mr. Burnson said. “Normally, in the old days, I would’ve thrown you out by now for work. But one of my promises to myself is that when old friends come by, I’d give them the time they needed. Besides, I don’t think you’ll be here all day, huh?”

“Probably not,” I said, considering the fact that Layla and I had that date that I had promised her. “I know you don’t want to be talking to an employee who left the way I did.”

“Nah. Time heals all wounds. So anyways! Go ahead!”

So, while attempting to not dwell on the dark parts too much—but not ignoring them either—I outlined everything that had happened in my professional life since I had left Burnson Investments. I mentioned the success of Morgan & Chance Holdings, how things had seemingly gone to hell with Rising Sun, how Morgan had sold me out and rejoined Edwin Hunt’s business, and how now…

I struggled at this point, trying to decide if I would continue to frame this in a relatively positive light or if I was going to crush Mr. Burnson’s happiness with the utter truth.

I decided I hadn’t come here to pussyfoot around the subject.

“Mr. Edwin Hunt has promised that he will destroy me,” I said. “And so, in return, for all that he has done, I have decided that for the sake of society, he needs to go. He hurt you, Mr. Burnson, just like he’s hurt many others. You’re probably aware that he’s going through a divorce—”

“Who isn’t?” he said with an attempted laugh, although his mood had gotten much more somber.

“Yeah, well, just recently, on a phone call, he told me he would kill me because I had bought more of one of our companies to make sure he couldn’t cancel me out. I thought he was joking but given that I saw people following me here to you, I don’t think that’s quite the case.”

“Mother of God,” Mr. Burnson said, shaking his head. “That man needs some of the lessons that I learned myself.”

He let out a long, almost sympathetic sigh.