Page 5 of Secret Revenge
“It’s true that our stock prices don’t seem to care about the accusations,” I admitted. “The issue isn’t with our profit margin… it’s the foundation.”
I struggled to keep my hands flat on the table. My thoughts were consumed by all the damage this was doing to the foundation I had spent my life dreaming of creating.
Since childhood, I had dreamed of using my family's wealth tohelpthe world instead of harming it. My determination only became fiercer when I grew up and learned of my father’s business practices and their impact on ordinary people.
With my brothers and me in charge of the company now, it seemed like I was finally getting somewhere --finally in a position to help those who needed it. It would be terrible to let those people down just because some skeptics were sowing distrust of all things Ross, including our attempts to make the world a better place.
“The foundation is important to me. I want to be able to reach all those people out there who could benefit from our help, and this is the way I know how to do it.” I was surprised to feel my throat tighten as I spoke the words. I’d given this pitch in meetings dozens of times before, but it felt raw and vulnerable when I spoke it to Emily.
“I’ve always wanted to run a different kind of charity. Instead of hiring someone to give funds to people, I’ve always wanted to create a foundation that supports existing grassroots organizations and works with them directly.”
“Oh!” Emily’s lips formed an almost perfect circle as she looked at me in surprise.
“This is something I have given a lot of thought to but not something I’ve publicized,” I pause for a moment. “That’s why we’re looking into hiring actual journalists for PR who can help us get the work done and reach out to grassroots organizations that already exist, the communities who are helping themselves --people with disabilities, autism, people of color, and so many more. We are trying to reach out to those who don’t have enoughopportunity compared to the big corporations to make things accessible to them.”
I leaned back in my seat when I realized I’d leaned toward her, over the table, in my enthusiasm to share my dream.
Emily was staring at me with eyes narrowed in hard suspicion. “How would you do that?” she asked.
“There are people with disabilities who are unable to afford the supplies they need. Things like prosthetics, wheelchairs, or even something as simple as food or insulin. We want to provide these supplies without them having to worry about the cost of it all. Scholarships will also be available for those who want to go to school.”
I waved one hand for emphasis, even as I tried to rein in my enthusiasm. “These are the sorts of things wealth should be used for. And this plan has already been on the back burner for so long.”
There were so many things I wanted to do, and I needed a platform. I needed a writer.
“Obviously,” I continued. “I am not a part of these communities. So, it would be pretty useless to say I want to help these communities by myself or hire people to manage the money. That would open up room for misappropriation of funds. I want to give it to the leaders within these communities who know how best to manage it. But…people are suspicious of no-strings-attached money. For obvious reasons.”
I scowled, thinking of some of the articles highlighting the least flattering aspects of my father’s legacy, then implying that my brothers and I were just the same.
“I have seen that happening a lot with people who try to run charities themselves,” Emily agreed grudgingly.
I suddenly realized that I’d turned this into a business meeting, but I pushed down my disappointment at that. Afterall, the good of those in need was more important than my desire for a more personal connection with this woman.
“Exactly.” I took a deep breath. “So, I want to give the funds directly to these communities.”
“That makes sense…” she admitted. “So, do you…actually have people turning you down when you try to give them money? It’s that big of a problem?”
“It is,” I admitted.
“And you’re upset about that?”
“Of course!”
“Okay, I’ll admit that sounds pretty sincere,” Emily said. “I didn’t know you billionaire types had it in you.”
“That’s why you shouldn’t jump to conclusions before you find out what’s going on,” I shot back, watching her brows raise.
“Are you going to keep being sassy and salty about that email?” she asked.
“Sassy?” It was my turn to arch my brows at her. “It’s bold of you to say that to me.”
I took a bite of my food—almost my first. I realized I had been so occupied with watching her and talking to her.
She chuckled, and it grated on my nerves.
“You seem like those people who have a preconceived idea and don’t care what the truth is. All they care about is what they think is true,” I said, finally, an icy lacing my voice. “You decided I was the bad guy, so obviously Imustbe. Even though you didn’t really know anything about me.”
She dropped her fork, her eyes boring into mine, as she asked, “Are you just looking for a fight?”