Elliot

My patience wears thinner with every obstacle I encounter. After a full day of pointless back-to-back meetings with the staff, I'm desperate to find areas where the park isn't performing as well as it could. In the forty-eight hours since I arrived, I've learned nothing useful.

On paper, the park exceeds its targets every quarter. The only common suggestion I've heard from employees is that they want "more." More rides, more lands, more hotels, more space...

There is only one team that can help me with expanding the park: Wondervale's Creators. They're known worldwide for innovation in the field. This team is behind everything: rides, theaters, merchandise, every kind of guest experience... So I plan to work side by side with these employees for the next six months. My micromanaging approach will be a significant change from the relaxed attitude they were used to under the previous director, but frankly, I don't care. It's what helped me transform a streaming start-up into a multibillion-dollar company, and I intend to do the same here.

I enter my office and close the door behind me. The two heads of the Creators team jump in their chairs before regaining their composure. Noah, the man with the good sense to pair a plaid shirt with a polka-dot tie, can barely look me in the eye. All I see is the top of his brown curls as he scribbles in his notebook. Tessa, the brunette who serves as his co-manager, sits ramrod straight beside him, as if the slightest flaw in her posture will provoke my anger.

"Let's begin," I say as I take my seat.

They nod in unison.

"I want to develop a new project for the park by identifying our weaknesses. Together, we'll evaluate the performance of Wondervale's attractions and determine how best to serve our guests. Possibilities include renovating existing rides, creating new areas of the park, and updating shows and parades. Taken together, the changes should increase Wondervale's return on investment by at least five percent."

Noah's eyes nearly double in size, while his colleague remains stoic.

"According to my preliminary analysis, our competitors become more aggressive every year. And although Wondervale performs well each quarter, I want to crush the competition and steal their profit margins."

Tessa takes notes as I speak. I appreciate their silence, given the limited time I have between meetings with each department.

"This kind of project can take years to go from the planning stage to the grand opening. That said, I expect both your teams to quickly develop the initial plans I'll present to the board of directors in six months."

It was Adrian's idea to keep the real reason for my presence at Wondervale a secret. According to him, if I revealed my true intentions, which are far from altruistic, people might take advantage by sabotaging my plans or leaking information to our competitors. No one will know that my position here is temporary. In their eyes, I'll be the director they've always dreamed of. When in reality, I can't wait to escape this hellhole and return to Chicago, where I'll replace Adrian as chief financial officer.

"Six months?" Tessa croaks, turning pale.

"I assume that won't be a problem."

She shakes her head, but the hand holding her pen trembles.

"I want to present this project as a celebration of the park's fiftieth anniversary and create buzz that strikes an emotional chord with the public. It needs to appeal to young people as much as to the older generations who grew up with Wondervale's characters. I want us to draw inspiration from everything my grandfather loved about this place while moving toward a brighter, more modern future."

My listeners do nothing but nod now. Hanging on my every word, they scribble on their notepads.

"So whatever needs to be done, do it. Time isn't our friend."

"What's the budget?" Noah asks, his eyes gleaming.

"Keep it reasonable. Around ten billion for the entire park. If you need more, my accountants will review the numbers."

Noah nearly chokes when he hears the amount.

"I expect results," I continue. "If you aren't prepared to do what it takes, you may as well start applying to traveling circuses now."

Tessa stares at me in disbelief, and Noah's gaze drops to the carpet again.

"Sir, may I be honest?" the young woman asks, tapping her pen against her notepad.

The sound is extremely irritating. I glance at my watch.

"Yes, if you believe it's absolutely necessary."

"Given the very tight deadline, I was wondering if we could open the annual employee submissions early this year? That way, the Creators could build on those new ideas instead of starting from scratch."

I blink at her, taken aback. The annual submissions are nothing but an excuse to boost employee morale while making our lives more complicated. We already have plenty of Creators who have worked at Wondervale for decades. They don't need the useless opinions of employees who know nothing about the field.

But what if someone submitted an excellent concept the current Creators hadn't considered?

I weigh the pros and cons for a moment before concluding that I don't have much to lose.

"Open submissions for two weeks only. Select the best entries yourselves and bring them to my office."

"Of course," Tessa replies. "I'm sure we'll find an idea that matches what you're looking for."

I doubt it, but I don't bother saying so. That would be another waste of time.

"Get to work!"

At those words, both managers hurry out. Perfect. I have a moment to answer emails before I need to start preparing for the next meeting.

---

"Son."

I instantly regret taking his call. Malcolm Vale phones me so rarely that curiosity unfortunately got the better of me. He has been too quiet about my new assignment at Wondervale, and I wonder what he's plotting behind my back.

"Father," I reply, settling onto the leather couch across from my desk.

These greetings are nothing more than a façade we've developed over the years for public appearances.

"How are things going at Wondervale? I assume you'll attend our board meeting on Monday regardless of what you have planned."

His casual tone reflects the impassive façade he has perfected over the last few decades. I grit my teeth: the man has a gift for making me lose my temper.

"Why do you care?"

"Let's just say your sudden interest in the director's position intrigues me."

Does he have so little respect for my intelligence?

Of course! He's done nothing but make fun of you your whole life.

"Are you calling for any particular reason?" I ask in an indifferent tone.

"I'd like to know more about your progress. I saw your funding request. Ten billion dollars is no small matter."

My entire body tenses at the comment.

"I don't need your advice."

"Good. Because I wasn't offering any."

"No, of course you weren't. You wouldn't act like a father once in your pathetic life,"

"Interesting choice of words from the weakest of my sons."

My fist tightens around my phone. Answering was truly stupid of me. I should have expected that nothing would change, even after my grandfather's death. The only thing my father cares about is reminding me how incompetent he thinks I am.

He's only trying to throw you off balance.

"I have to go. I have an appointment, and I can't be late," I say before hanging up on him.

I take deep breaths to calm myself. I'm no longer that desperate little boy who wanted a real relationship with his father so badly. Thanks to him, I turned my mind into a weapon instead of a weakness. No matter how hard he tries to provoke me, I will always triumph because the child he knew no longer exists. I made sure of it.