chapter 7

Chapter seven:

As the sun descended on a cool afternoon, Courtney strolled along the glass walls of her family's mansion, passing by the outdoor swimming pool. Accompanying her was Mr. Smith, comfortably settled in his motorized wheelchair, as they made their way toward the flower bed.

The wheelchair had been suggested by Mr. Smith's neurosurgeon just a week prior. Although he was expected to spend more time in the hospital before discharge, Mr. Smith was insistent upon returning to work, even if it meant doing so from the comfort of his home. He found it difficult to stand or walk for extended periods, making the wheelchair an essential aid.

"Do you remember those days?" Mr. Smith inquired as they approached the garden, prompting a beaming smile from Courtney as cherished memories of her father flooded her mind.

For a moment, she studied her father, realizing that despite his newfound reliance on the wheelchair, he remained the same man she had always known.

Attired in his usual ensemble of a spiderweb t-shirt and jeans—of which he owned thousands from his own clothing line—he didn't have to fret about what to wear each day, given the identical design of the shirts that formed part of his business network's brand identity, inspired by the coordination found in a spider's web.

"What's wrong, Courtney?" Mr. Smith asked, pausing his wheelchair, sensing that something was amiss.

"I'm fine," she responded with a nod.

"You're not very good at lying," he chuckled, not needing to look directly at her face to discern her deception.

Perhaps her feelings had become evident during their father-daughter bonding time.

Naturally, she should be bothered by the appointment of Hernandez to the team, especially given his evident ambitions of leading the Company.

Not to mention, it was her own father who had helped create this threat by installing Hernandez as the COO of the subsidiary oversight and management team.

Although they had briefly discussed the matter, it was already too late to change the situation.

While it was true that Hernandez was her father's son, she didn't saw that as a valid reason to extend family dynasties, particularly when she, as a woman, had already worked tirelessly to earn the board's favor.

The board was currently deliberating over Hernandez's privileges and flexibility within the WEB-tech, WEB-mobile, WEB-Soft, WEB-auto, and WEB-Magazines subsidiaries. Hernandez's sudden rise to prominence posed a threat to her own ambitions.

Adding to Courtney's turmoil was the fact that she was pregnant and hadn't yet decided how to proceed. She had not disclosed this news to her father, as her mother and Becca felt it wasn't the most opportune moment to share such a revelation.

Meanwhile, her mother, a recent convert to Christianity, was adamantly insisting that Courtney keep the baby, arguing that abortion was a grievous sin in the eyes of God.

Determined to make her own decision, Courtney felt overwhelmed and out of control. Becca, on the other hand, still doubted the truth of Courtney's pregnancy, speculating that there was more to the story or that she had slept with a random man while intoxicated at the birthday party. Consequently, Becca began her own investigation, questioning everyone who attended the event.

"Is this about him?" her father's voice interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. "What did I tell you?" he asked with a smile, gazing at her.

"We are stronger together," Courtney replied, recalling his previous advice. Inwardly, however, she believed that they would be just fine without Hernandez. After all, he had always been her father's son, not someone she regarded as a brother.

"It's more like a web, a network, a chain of connected people," her father explained, turning his chair around. "Our ideas in alignment can make all the difference in the world."

"You don't trust my abilities, do you? You don't think I can handle this?" Courtney spoke candidly, seeking to provoke a conversation about the matter.

"It's not about individual perfection; it's about optimization," her father explained, emphasizing the importance of cooperation.

"I'm not sure I believe that anymore," Courtney retorted, her voice tinged with emotion. "I mean, he was working with a firm in Mexico and doing just fine."

"Courtney, he is my son!" Mr. Smith raised his voice, his frustration evident. A tense silence filled the air as they locked eyes.

"You have made that perfectly clear already," Courtney finally broke the silence, her anger palpable as she walked away from her father. He exhaled deeply but made no attempt to stop her.

Mr. Smith couldn't blame her for feeling upset, but that didn't change the fact that Hernandez was his son. He understood her fear, but he had no intention of handing over the company to Hernandez simply because he was a man and she was a woman. He was well aware of her efficiency and capabilities.

He had personally guided her path into the business world since she was a child and knew how desperately she wanted to succeed and carry on his legacy. However, Hernandez was also his son. With a heavy sigh, he started his power wheelchair.

Later, he found himself seated in his study, reclining in his chair with his eyes closed. His thoughts drifted towards Fransisca, the househelp with whom he'd had an affair in Mexico—and the mother of his son.

This was a challenging situation. He had prepared Courtney for this her entire life, and time and again, she had proven her worth, having dedicated three years to WEB. But he had also made a promise to Fransisca.

As he sat there with his eyes shut, his mind drifted back to the hospital room.

"You said you wanted to see me," he recalled saying as he stood beside Fransisca's bed.

"I won't make it, Smith. I'm dying," Fransisca said, her voice trembling with emotion.

"It's okay. I'll do whatever it takes. You'll be fine," Smith assured her, despite her tears.

"No, your fortune can't save me," she said, shaking her head.

"Look, I know I haven't been a good father to our son, and I haven't treated you very well. I'm—"

"Smith, I'm not mad at you anymore," Fransisca interrupted him. "I just want you to promise me this one thing."

"You're not going to die. I have faith," he insisted, holding her hand.

"Promise me, Smith. Please promise me," Fransisca pleaded.

"I will. I will do anything," Smith said, tears streaming down his face.

"Make my son the heir to your business empire. That's all he's ever wanted. He loves you so much; you have no idea."

"I will. I promise," Smith said, weeping alongside her.

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