Second Visit
Sitting across from Mr. Chen in the drab, stark meeting room of the prison brought an oddly familiar chill. The cold space was marked by the echo of distant doors slamming and the faint, ever-present hum of subdued conversations from other visitors. The starkness of the environment was a blunt reminder of the power dynamics at play, with Mr. Chen on one side of the table, clad in the nondescript prison garb that stripped away his corporate persona, and me, dressed in business attire, clearly the one in control.
"Do the meals at the prison suit your taste?" I taunted, attempting to poke at his discomfort, to remind him starkly of his current predicament, not just physically but psychologically confined.
"Price to pay for getting taken over by a company I've never even heard of before," Mr. Chen shot back with a nonchalance that was both irritating and impressive, considering his situation.
Despite the cold exterior, I felt a tinge of respect for his demeanor but remembered the stakes were too high for sentimentality. "I'll get right to it then, if you put all the stocks you will get into Chen Construction. Or if you completely give your stocks to the company—" I started, laying out the options with a straightforwardness that matched the bleak setting.
"Are you skipping to the conclusion because you already know what you want?" Mr. Chen interrupted, cutting through my presentation with a directness that forced me to approach the matter more candidly.
Adjusting my strategy, I leaned forward slightly, the metal chair scraping against the concrete floor, echoing slightly in the hollow room. "The prosecution dropped the case, and you'll be let out without restrictions. You'll continue as an advisor at Chen Construction. I can also give you a good salary as an advisor should you cooperate," I stated clearly.
Mr. Chen's face remained stoic, a hardened mask that betrayed no emotion as he considered the offer. "Everything was a misunderstanding, and you got some dirt on your shoulder. Knowing your goodwill, you're officially being recruited," I finished, framing the proposal as a recruitment rather than a demotion, a strategic choice of words designed to appeal to what pride he had left.
Offering the position of advisor wasn't as prestigious as being the CEO, but it was significantly better than remaining in prison or being branded a fraud. This was a calculated compromise, designed to extract maximum advantage while offering him just enough to accept.
His attitude had shifted slightly; he seemed to find a small foothold of leverage within our negotiation. "Pretty hefty on my salary to use the funds to fix company problems," Mr. Chen remarked with a knowing smile, suggesting a sacrifice on his part but hinting at underlying calculations he considered advantageous.
"In return, you'll make a lot in earned income taxes," I countered smoothly, pointing out the financial benefits that would accrue to him through proper channeling of his salary—a legitimate, legal way to regain some financial stability.
"It's also a citizen's duty to pay taxes," Mr. Chen responded, his smile broadening into an arrogant grin as if he had scored a point in this chess game of corporate and legal maneuvering. His tone carried a hint of triumph, suggesting he felt he had cleverly aligned his interests with broader, civic responsibilities
I glared at Mr. Chen, his demeanor seemingly mocking me, as if he had maneuvered me into the exact position he wanted. The guard casually looked away, his actions subtly signaling that the usual rules didn't strictly apply here.
Seizing the moment to assert my dominance in this psychological battle, I leaned forward abruptly, my movement sharp and deliberate, and grabbed a fistful of Mr Chen's thinning hair before slamming it his face down on the table. I grabbed a pen from my pocket, holding it up to his eye as I fixed my gaze piercingly on Mr. Chen. His eyes widened, his entire body tensed—a clear reaction to my unexpected assertiveness.
After all, now was the best time for violence.
"You need to understand the seriousness of your situation, Mr. Chen," I said quietly, the pen hovering dangerously close but never touching him. "This isn't a game. The choices you make in the next few days will determine much more than your personal fortune."
Mr. Chen's initial bravado seemed to falter as he realized no immediate help would come; it was just him and me, and the decisions he feared to make were now unavoidable.
My voice was sharp as I addressed Mr. Chen, "Don't get cocky with me!" My tone left no room for negotiation, asserting dominance in the high-stakes conversation.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Mr. Chen responded, visibly shaken, his body tensing under the strain of the confrontation. "Do you have no respect for elders?"
"I don't care how old you are, just don't forget that I've shown you a kindness. If you play a shitty game with me like this again, I'll kill you!" I snapped, my warning clear and forceful. "Got it?!"
"Yes! I get it!" Mr. Chen's reply was frantic, his earlier composure crumbling under the pressure as he struggled to free himself from the intensity of my focus. His desperation was palpable; he understood the seriousness of my threat.
"I'm in charge!" I yelled, reinforcing my authority, needing him to acknowledge it completely.
"I understand!" He cried out, his voice cracking under the strain. Relenting, I stepped back and allowed him to slump back into his chair, his relief mixed with fear.
"Once you're released you'll get your ass in line and answer to me. And if I hear you caused any trouble for my people, then I'll be back to finish you off," I stated firmly, setting the terms of his compliance. I guess putting elders in their place was very worth it.
As I observed Mr. Chen wiping away his tears in a rather pathetic display, a part of me felt like my reaction might not have been stern enough. He wasn't fighting back with the vigor I expected from him; instead, he seemed resigned, almost passive. It irked me that he gave up so quickly, especially considering the disparity in our ages. "Ok," Mr. Chen said quietly, looking down at his hands, resigned to his fate.
"Ugh," I rolled my eyes in frustration, feeling the emotional pull of the situation. "Just be ready for your release. You'll be taken care of as long as you remember who's in charge." It was clear that jail had taught him nothing about resilience.
I knew I was being emotional again. While I didn't feel any sympathy for Mr. Chen himself, I was acutely aware of how many ordinary people were in debt because of his actions. This confrontation was the only way I could make my feelings known while forcing him to comply with my plans for his company. The fact that Mr. Chen and his family would likely come out of this largely unscathed, eventually regaining 30% of the shares over ten years, felt far from justice.
"I'll be in your care," Mr. Chen muttered, resigned to his fate.
"I'll prepare the contract then," I sighed, signaling to the guard that I was finished with my visit. The guard escorted Mr. Chen out, and I was then led to the office by the warden, a stern, no-nonsense woman who reminded me oddly of the trunchbull from Matilda.
"Mr. Todd, your previous donation has helped us upgrade our prison very well," the warden greeted me with a smile. "If there's anything else we can arrange for you, don't hesitate to ask."
"I've already written the next donation check. Did you do as I asked with my brother? Anthony Todd," I inquired, making sure my investments in the prison were yielding the expected outcomes.
"We've thoroughly looked through everything. Not even his children are speaking to him, and he's been the target of several bad altercations lately. We might have to put him in a high-risk facility," the warden reported.
"Just make sure he doesn't die," I instructed, my tone casual yet firm.
"Why don't you just get him out if you're worried?" the warden questioned.
"I'll do that in about four more years. If I could survive prison, so can he," I said dismissively, planning his release conditionally. "Anything else," I asked, ready to facilitate further.
"Yes, we're giving the guys you spoke about better treatment and Jasper McNeil has no inmate history anywhere. Nothing is hidden at all. He's been a guard before but got fired and sent back to the police station. This was 2 years before your time here so there's no possible way he would've known about you," the warden explained.
"Why was he fired?" I asked, curious about Jasper's past.
"He had a long-standing feud with another officer here. A Shannon Watts. Something about a former love interest," the warden detailed.
"Call her here now. I need to speak to her," I commanded.
"Luckily she's working today. I'll call her to my office now," the warden replied with a compliant smile, ready to assist in uncovering more details.