The Proposal

Callum's reflection in the elevator doors was pale and grim. His tie felt too tight, his shirt collar choking. He tugged at it, loosening the fabric just slightly, but it did nothing to ease the tension coiling in his chest. The metallic hum of the elevator was drowned out by the sound of his own thoughts: spiraling, restless, relentless. 

This board meeting felt like it was going to be a disaster and it hadn't even started yet.

Ryan stood beside him, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the red numbers climbing steadily on the panel above them. His casual demeanor was almost infuriating. 

"Relax," Ryan said, cutting through the heavy silence. "It's just a regular board meeting. We'll go over the PR stuff, the financials, and Howard will grumble about expenses like he always does." 

Callum shot him a sideways glance. "Does this feel like a regular board meeting to you?" 

Ryan shrugged. "Okay, maybe not regular. But you know how your dad is. He probably just wants to scold you in front of the others for not groveling enough to the press. Classic Howard move." 

Callum's lips pressed into a thin line. He wished he could believe Ryan. But something about the tone of his father's email—short, clipped, and signed off with Urgent matters to discuss—made his stomach twist. It didn't make him feel any better that the man had already told him about the meeting but still felt the need to back it up with an email.

"You've been overthinking everything lately," Ryan added, nudging Callum's shoulder. "Can't really blame you, though. You look like you haven't slept in days. When's the last time you had a proper meal?" 

Callum stiffened. Food had been the furthest thing from his mind these past few days. He couldn't hold down a meal, knowing that Micah may never open his eyes again, knowing he might get the call that his condition had worsened overnight and he was no more. Callum's appetite was essentially nonexistent and his peace of mind was long gone.

To Ryan the explosion like an event that, while unfortunate, could be easily put in the past. But, to Callum, it was a matter of life and death. There was no way Ryan would understand.

"Drop it," Callum muttered. 

Ryan held his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. But seriously, it's probably fine. Howard's bark is worse than his bite." 

Callum didn't respond. The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal the polished wood-paneled conference room on Catalyst's executive floor. 

The board was already assembled, a dozen faces seated around the long, rectangular table. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp lines across the glossy surface. The air was thick with muted conversations, the hum of quiet voices filling the room like static. 

At the head of the table sat Howard Pierce, his back straight, his salt and pepper hair perfectly combed. He looked eerily similar to the stern faced picture of himself hanging on the mantle in the living of the family house. The same one Callum could never walk past without feeling like it was watching.

Those his steely eyes swept across the room now, as if cataloging every minor imperfection. 

Callum took a seat beside Ryan, nodding curtly to a few familiar faces: Emilia Foster, the CFO; Victor Chang, a longtime investor with a reputation for pragmatism; and Priya Nair, the head of marketing. They returned his nod with varying degrees of politeness. 

"Now that we're all here," Howard began, his voice cutting cleanly through the room, "let's get started." 

Ryan leaned over to Callum, whispering, "See? Just a regular meeting." 

Callum didn't answer. 

The first half hour passed in a blur of reports and updates. Emilia outlined the company's financials, her tone brisk but reassuring. "Despite the recent incident, revenue projections remain stable. We've seen no significant drop in stock value, though public sentiment is… understandably shaken." 

Victor added his own commentary, his voice sharp as he dissected the PR team's response to the explosion. Callum fielded a few questions about safety protocols and upcoming initiatives, keeping his tone measured, professional. 

But the undercurrent of unease never left him. 

It wasn't until the meeting was nearing its end that Howard cleared his throat, the sound commanding immediate attention. 

"There's one more matter to discuss," he said, leaning forward slightly. "Something that will significantly impact the future of Catalyst Games." 

The room went still. 

Callum's stomach dropped. 

Howard's expression was unreadable, his cold grey eyes scanning the room. "As you're all aware, the recent explosion at that… community event—" he said the word with as much fervour as one would describe a dead fish— "has cast a harsh spotlight on this company. Catalyst Games hasn't been a thriving studio in a long time and I overlooked that failure. But now, it's a liability."

Callum's fists clenched under the table. 

"Over the past few days," Howard continued, "I've had several discussions with concerned investors, stakeholders, and legal advisors. The consensus is clear: we cannot continue on this trajectory. The damage to our reputation and the potential for future risks are too great." 

"What exactly are you saying?" Ryan cut in, his voice sharp. 

Howard's gaze shifted to him, cold and unyielding. "I'm saying that Catalyst Games is no longer worth the effort of salvaging. It's time to consider an alternative path forward." 

Callum's throat tightened. "What alternative path?" 

Howard paused for a moment, as if savoring the tension in the room. Then, he dropped the bombshell. 

"We've received an offer to purchase Catalyst Games. A generous offer that I fully intend to accept." 

The room erupted into chaos. Voices overlapped, questions and protests firing off like gunshots. 

"What?!" Ryan's voice cut through the noise, his face a mix of disbelief and fury. "You can't be serious!" 

"This company is still profitable," Emilia said, her tone clipped. "We don't need to sell." 

Victor leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Who's the buyer?" 

Callum's head was spinning. He stared at his father, his chest tight with a mix of anger and betrayal. "You can't just sell the company," he said, his voice low but trembling with restrained emotion. "This isn't just some commodity you can trade away." 

Howard arched a brow. "I can, and I will. I've already spoken to several board members, and the majority are leaning in favor of the sale." 

Callum looked around the table, his gaze darting between the faces of his colleagues. Priya looked conflicted, Emilia was fuming, and Victor… Victor was unreadable. 

Ryan slammed his hands on the table. "This is bullshit. We built this company from the ground up. We're not going to let you sell it out from under us." 

Howard's expression didn't waver. "You can disagree all you want. But in time, you'll see that this is the right decision. Catalyst Games is a sinking ship, and I'm giving us all a lifeboat." He straightened up and adjusted his black necktie. "We'll vote on this the next time we convene and I expect that, by then, you all would have made your decisions."

Callum's jaw tightened. "Who's the buyer?" he demanded, his voice sharp. 

Howard smiled thinly, as if he'd been waiting for the question. "Wellspring Capital Partners." 

The words hit Callum like a physical blow. His breath caught, his mind racing. 

Wellspring Capitals. The company Damian's parents owned, the one he worked for.

Callum stared at his father, disbelief and fury warring in his chest. "You've got to be kidding me." 

But Howard's expression made it clear: this was no joke.