When we took the family portrait at New Year's, I stood at the very edge. Sometimes I barely fit inside the frame.
No matter how well I performed, no matter what results I delivered, in the Hensons' eyes, I would always be an outsider.
Seven years. Long enough for a child to finish elementary school.
Long enough for a struggling startup to go from nothing to an IPO.
Long enough for a love to cool from a blaze into ash.
And long enough for a man to have every last shred of hope ground down to nothing.
Footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.
I stubbed out my cigarette and tossed it into the trash, along with the proposal.
After work, I drove back to the Henson family's estate.
I eased the door open. I hadn't even made it past the foyer when voices drifted from the living room, laced with unmistakable irritation.
"What's going on with that proposal? Is it really so hard to get him to do one simple thing?"
I stopped in my tracks.
Otis sat on the sofa, his expression cold. Beside him, Felicity tried to explain. "Dad, Joseph's probably just been swamped lately."