To Color Your Life - Chapter 88

Justin looked around the spacious hall. The shareholders took their seats according to the amount of shares each of them possessed. The exact amount of shares that each had was unknown, but, according to the rules, it was possible to see who had more or less by the order they were sitting in at the table.

In the front row were those who worked for the good of the Pharaoh the longest. Some of them have been with the publishing house since the time of its foundation, some joined a little later. Justin’s father represented the latter category.

He was sitting a few seats away from Arthur Pitcher. There were four people in front of him: two were old friends of Justin’s grandfather, and the third was the one who came to the publishing house seventeen years ago, while still being a boy.

Christian Denver. At the age of eighteen, he got a job as a janitor in one of the new departments, in three years he managed to grow there to the assistant head of the department and after the department was successfully accepted, he received his first shares.

Since then, he has repeated this strategy more than once, which ultimately made him not only one of the largest shareholders in the publishing house, but also the owner of several business unites of the company.

Up to this point.

Justin glanced at the empty space between his grandfather and Denver. The empty chair attracted everyone’s attention, like a black hole in the center of a galaxy. The shareholders exchanged glances among themselves, asking a silent question who had not yet shown up for the meeting.

Who is it to take Denver’s place alongside the founder of the publishing house, which Christian has held for the past three years?

“I see that everyone is here. I suggest we start our meeting,” Justin said to the audience.

“Mister Evans,” one of the guests said, “Obviously someone is missing. Is this person coming?” The question sounded mundane, but the subtext was clear to everyone. Several dozen pairs of eyes stared at Justin, waiting for an answer.

“My brother will be a little later. He’s busy right now,” the man replied. All, who had shares, could participate in the meeting. So not only Jacob but also Gregor Barkens and Cathrine Joyce were invited.

The guests nodded their heads in satisfaction. So Jacob Evans was absent. Then everything becomes clear. But isn’t this a violation of the rules?

The shareholders looked at Mr. Pitcher in surprise. Justin’s grandfather was an ardent supporter of all the rules that were once set. He never showed bias towards anyone and evaluated people and their actions based solely on their contribution to the development of the publishing house.

Did he really decide to support his grandson and sell the shares to Justin’s twin brother, knowing that Denver intended to remake the department at his discretion?

Condemnation flashed in the eyes of those present. But Arthur Pitcher didn’t care. He was sitting in his seat and calmly examining each and every person present, noting their emotions. He was the one thanks to whom these people were able to take their current positions.

He fulfilled his duty to the Pharaoh in full. Now it was the turn of the others.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to the reporting meeting of the Department Thirty of the Pharaoh publishing house,” Justin addressed the audience, “First, I want to thank you for the time you have decided to devote to our department. Pharaoh magazine is a unique project that my team has been developing for three years. And I am sure you will be able to appreciate the achieved results and the strategy for further development, which we will share with you.

And now, by tradition, I give the floor to Mr. Arthur Pitcher, the founder of the Pharaoh publishing house. Let’s welcome him!”

Justin clapped his hands, and the audience immediately supported him.

Mr. Pitcher rose from his seat and, leaning on his cane, walked over to his grandson.

“Have you seen their faces? They were pouting like sea urchins,” the man chuckled.

“Let’s see their faces in twenty minutes,” Justin whispered and winked at his grandfather.

“Can not wait. I will witness something interesting within the last thirty years at last.”

Pitcher stood behind the podium and looked at those present. It was the gaze of a wise king who looked at his subjects, knowing each of them. He glanced at Christian Denver’s focused face.

This boy was an exact copy of his father. Thank God, only by the looks.

Denver noticed the attention drawn to him but did not show it.

As always. No sign of emotion, Arthur sighed to himself and realized it again that yesterday’s decision was correct.

“Greetings,” his voice was clear and confident. The way he has been throughout all these years when Pitcher has performed in front of an audience more than once.

“When I founded Pharaoh, I was twenty-three years old. Then I believed in my dreams and did not doubt that I would definitely achieve success. As you can see, I have achieved success. I have amazing teeth, for which I paid the dentist two hundred thousand dollars, and a cane, which is adorned with gold and precious stones.”

The audience laughed.

“But then, my dream was limited to a white convertible Cadillac. This car was perfect for scoring with girls.” Arthur Pitcher grinned contentedly, remembering his youth. “Why am I saying this? To illustrate the fact that I was a complete fool. But I realized this only when I received my first check for one hundred thousand dollars.

It was then, when I, instead of cashing it out at the bank, wrote the first rules that became the basis of the Pharaoh protocol, on the backside of it.

I wanted the people who would work in this publishing house to be worthy of their positions. I wanted to have such a team, where every individual would understand why he or she is doing the job. Every great success has the same big price tag. I paid my price.

Therefore, I had every right to demand the same from others. Pharaoh’s success was worth too much to allow people who did not appreciate this place, like I did, to reap the benefits of this victory.

Today we are attending the reporting meeting of the thirtieth department of the Pharaoh publishing house. This is the thirtieth direction that was launched within the framework of our large company.

And just like sixty years ago, when I first spoke to the future shareholders of the publishing house, I hope that today you will be objective and will make a decision based on what is best for our company.”

Pitcher looked everyone in the eye, and when he was sure the guests understood him, he continued,

“You know that according to the company’s rules, once a year one of the owners of shares can sell a part of it. This year it’s my turn. I am already old to be actively involved in the affairs of the company. I believe that over sixty years we have raised many worthy leaders who will lead Pharaoh based on the values ​​that were laid down when it was founded.

Therefore, I decided to transfer all my shares to a person who proved not only to fully understand the importance of the company but also was ready to pay an appropriate price for it.”

There was a moment of silence in the hall, which was immediately replaced by surprised whispers. Didn’t Arthur Pitcher only put up fifty percent of his shares for sale? Why did he decide to give up the entire package? Who had that much money to pay that amount?

Justin noticed Christian’s icy gaze on him. Evans smirked and winked at the man.

When there is a fight with a strong opponent, the best strategy is to take him by surprise.

Denver pursed his lips and turned to his lawyer sitting behind, but the man just shrugged. He was shocked by this news as well as everyone present.

Except for two people who stood on the stage, and two more who were behind the guests at the door of the hall.

Justin silently said with his lips, “It’s time.” Catherine, who was standing against the far wall, nodded and exchanged glances with Gregor Barkens.

They signaled to two male models, who grabbed the door handles.

Justin stood up to the microphone, “Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to a person whose word from now on will carry a lot of weight in our publishing house. The one whom I officially announce as my successor and to whom I wish to transfer the management of the thirtieth department.”

The doors opened and Evans looked into the eyes of the one who he had been waiting for all this time.

He straightened up and said with undisguised pride, “I present to you the new queen of the Pharaoh magazine.. Miss Emily Hayes.”