Chapter 12 Nathaniel Cho
They met the next morning in Cho’s office.
It was much less intimidating than the boardroom.
Papers covered most of the desk. Files were stacked against one wall, some neatly labeled and others clearly waiting to be dealt with. There was a half-empty coffee cup beside his computer, and another one sitting near the window.
Alex looked at it.
“You have two coffees?”
Cho followed his gaze.
“The first one went cold.”
“So you made another?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re still drinking the first one?”
Cho picked up the older cup.
“I’m trying to decide whether to accept defeat.”
Alex laughed.
For the first time since entering Voss Global, he felt like he was in a normal room.
It looked like an office belonging to someone who cared more about getting the work done than making the place look impressive.
Cho gestured toward the chair.
“Sit.”
Alex sat.
Cho reached behind him and pulled out a thick binder.
He dropped it onto the desk.
The sound made Alex look at it.
“What is that?”
“Your new best friend.”
Alex stared at the binder.
It was several inches thick.
“You’re joking.”
“I wish.”
Cho pushed it toward him.
“I’m not going to sugarcoat this.”
Alex opened the cover.
“You are, basically, illiterate in the language this company speaks.”
Alex raised an eyebrow.
“That’s harsh.”
“It’s also true.”
Cho smiled.
“Don’t worry. It’s fixable.”
He tapped the binder.
“Facts are easier to fix than feelings.”
Alex looked down at the first page.
There were definitions.
Revenue.
Profit.
Assets.
Liabilities.
Equity.
Cash flow.
He recognized some of the words.
That didn’t mean he understood them.
“What is all this?”
“Your survival guide.”
Cho sat down.
“Terminology. Company structure. How the money moves. How the different divisions work.”
He pointed toward the binder.
“I made most of this when I started here.”
Alex looked at him.
“You?”
“Me.”
“You were this confused?”
“Worse.”
Cho leaned back.
“I spent my first month pretending I understood things.”
“What happened?”
“I almost approved a report that would’ve made us look like we’d lost several million dollars.”
Alex stared at him.
“Did you?”
“No.”
Cho smiled.
“But I almost signed off on it.”
“What stopped you?”
“I finally admitted I didn’t understand what I was looking at.”
Alex laughed.
“So you survived by admitting you were confused.”
“Exactly.”
Cho pointed at him.
“That’s the first lesson.”
Alex closed the binder.
“What’s the second?”
“Ask questions.”
“Any questions?”
“Any.”
“Even stupid ones?”
“There are no stupid questions.”
Cho paused.
“There are stupid decisions made because someone was too embarrassed to ask a question.”
Alex nodded slowly.
That made sense.
He opened the binder again.
“Okay.”
Cho watched him.
“What?”
“Why are you helping me?”
The question changed the room.
Cho’s expression became more thoughtful.
“You don’t know me.”
“I know.”
“You have no reason to risk your position for me.”
Alex looked toward the door.
“Especially when most of the board already thinks I’m a liability.”
Cho didn’t argue.
Instead, he leaned back and studied him.
“Julian promoted me eight years ago.”
Alex looked up.
“I was a mid-level analyst. Nobody thought I was ready.”
Cho smiled faintly.
“Julian did.”
He picked up his coffee.
“He saw something in me that other people didn’t.”
“What?”
“Probably stubbornness.”
Alex smiled.
“Sounds familiar.”
“It might be.”
Cho took a sip.
“I was ambitious. I was good at numbers. But I wasn’t polished. I didn’t come from the right circles.”
He looked around his office.
“People assumed I’d eventually hit a ceiling.”
“What did Julian say?”
“He told me ceilings were usually just other people’s expectations.”
Alex looked at him.
“That sounds like him.”
“Maybe.”
Cho’s smile faded slightly.
“He took a chance on me when everyone else in this building thought he was making a mistake.”
He paused.
“I didn’t forget that.”
Alex waited.
“About six months before he died, he called me into this office.”
“This one?”
Cho nodded.
“Back then, it was his office.”
He glanced around.
“I inherited it afterward.”
Alex looked at the desk again.
There was something strange about imagining Julian sitting there.
Giving instructions.
Making decisions.
Knowing that his own death was approaching.
“What did he want?”
Cho was quiet for a moment.
“He asked me about the board.”
“That sounds normal.”
“It was.”
Cho looked at him.
“Until he started asking about the future.”
Alex frowned.
“The company’s future?”
“Yes.”
Cho hesitated.
“And something else.”
“What?”
“Whoever came next.”
Alex’s attention sharpened.
“Whoever came next?”
Cho nodded.
“Whoever ended up sitting in the chair you’re sitting in now.”
He pointed toward Alex.
“He said that person would need someone here who remembered what it felt like to be underestimated.”
Alex stared at him.
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly?”
“Not word for word.”
Cho smiled.
“But close enough.”
Alex looked down at the binder.
“He knew about me.”
Cho didn’t answer immediately.
“Before he died,” Alex continued. “He already knew I was coming.”
“I don’t know exactly what Julian knew.”
Cho’s voice became more careful.
“He kept a lot of things to himself.”
Alex frowned.
“But you think he knew something.”
“I think Julian knew more than he told anyone.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
Cho looked toward the window.
“But it’s what I believe.”
Alex sat quietly.
Outside, the city was beginning another busy morning.
People were arriving at work.
Cars moved between buildings.
Somewhere below them, Voss Global employees were probably starting their days without knowing that the company’s new largest shareholder was sitting upstairs trying to understand the difference between revenue and profit.
Alex looked back at Cho.
“What else did he say?”
Cho didn’t answer immediately.
“He was thinking about succession differently during his final year.”
“How?”
“More personally.”
Alex frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Cho rubbed his thumb against the edge of his coffee cup.
“In the past, Julian talked about succession in terms of numbers. Leadership ability. Experience. Stability.”
“And later?”
“Later, he started asking questions that had nothing to do with financial statements.”
“Like what?”
Cho looked at him.
“About family.”
Alex went still.
“What kind of questions?”
Cho sighed.
“He asked what it was like to lose someone before you ever really had them.”
Alex didn’t move.
The words stayed between them.
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth.”
Cho looked down.
“I told him I didn’t know.”
He paused.
“I thought he was talking about someone he’d lost.”
“Was he?”
“I don’t know.”
Cho shook his head.
“He never explained.”
Alex thought about the locked nursery.
The crib.
The faded wallpaper.
Elena’s face when she’d found him standing there.
That room isn’t mine to explain.
He hadn’t told Cho.
He didn’t know enough to make sense of it himself.
But the pieces were starting to pile up.
The will.
The contract.
The inheritance.
The locked room.
Elena’s strange reaction.
Julian’s questions about family.
And now this.
Alex had spent most of his life believing that his biggest problems were practical ones.
Money.
Work.
Rent.
His mother’s medical bills.
Things that could be solved if he worked hard enough.
This was different.
This was a mystery.
And he wasn’t sure whether he wanted the answer.
“Was Julian sick when he asked you those questions?”
Cho nodded.
“He was already sick by then.”
“Did you know how serious it was?”
“No.”
Cho looked toward the window again.
“He hid it well.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what Julian did.”
Alex waited.
“He didn’t like people worrying about him.”
Cho gave a small, humorless smile.
“He especially didn’t like people knowing when he was vulnerable.”
Alex looked down.
“Do you think his illness changed him?”
“Maybe.”
Cho’s expression tightened.
“Or maybe it gave him less reason to keep pretending.”
Alex looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
Cho shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
He paused.
“I’m not sure anyone does.”
The room became quiet.
Alex closed the binder.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Alex pushed it back toward Cho.
Cho frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re quitting already?”
“No.”
Alex pulled the binder back.
“I just realized something.”
“What?”
“Whatever else is going on with this family, I need to understand what I’ve inherited.”
Cho nodded.
“That’s a good place to start.”
Alex opened the binder again.
“The company.”
“Yes.”
“The money.”
“Yes.”
“The divisions.”
“Yes.”
“The board.”
“Unfortunately.”
Alex sighed.
“And all the things I’m apparently supposed to know.”
Cho smiled.
“Now you’re getting it.”
Alex leaned forward.
“Teach me.”
Cho studied him for a moment.
Then he smiled.
It was the first genuinely warm expression Alex had seen from anyone at Voss Global.
“Good answer.”
He pulled his chair around beside Alex.
“Let’s start simple.”
Alex nodded.
Cho opened the binder.
“Do you know the difference between revenue and profit?”
Alex stared at him.
Then laughed.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I really don’t.”
Cho laughed too.
“Then we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
He pointed at the first page.
“Revenue is the money coming in.”
Alex nodded.
“Okay.”
“Profit is what’s left after expenses.”
Alex nodded again.
“That makes sense.”
“Good.”
Cho turned the page.
“And this is where it gets complicated.”
Alex looked down.
The page was covered in numbers.
He sighed.
“How complicated?”
Cho looked at him.
“Enough that you’ll regret asking.”
Alex smiled.
“Fine.”
He picked up a pen.
“Start talking.”
Cho moved closer to the binder.
And for the next two hours, Alex learned.
Not everything.
Not even close.
But enough to understand the first layer of the world he’d been dropped into.
For the first time since Julian’s death, Alex didn’t feel like he was simply being carried from one strange situation to another.
He was beginning to take control.
He still didn’t understand why Julian had chosen him.
He still didn’t know what was behind the locked east wing.
And he had no idea what Richard was planning.
But he was learning.
One word.
One number.
One question at a time.
And for now, that was enough.
