I toy with the straw in my iced tea, the ice cubes clinking together as I glance at Dixon, who is deep in thought, his forehead creased.
“If we expose the truth...what are the benefits?”
“First, we'd be doing the right thing ethically,” Dixon says, tapping his fingers on the table. “And, well, our conscience would be clear.”
“True, but if we keep quiet, we might save the company from going under, and our careers along with it.”
“Is that worth it?” Dixon asks, furrowing his brows. “I mean, can we live with ourselves knowing we're just as guilty as my father for keeping this secret?”
I bite my lip, torn between my ambition and my moral compass. "It's not a simple choice, but we have to weigh the repercussions of either decision."
“Alright,” Dixon sighs, taking a deep breath. “So, if we decide to expose everything, we risk losing our jobs, our reputation, and even the company itself. But, if we stay silent, we're going against everything we stand for—honesty, integrity, fairness.”
“Maybe there's a middle ground,” I offer. “What if we confront your father and give him the chance to come clean himself? That way, we're not directly responsible for the fallout, but we're not staying silent either.”
“Would he do that?” Dixon questions, skepticism clear in his tone. “I’d like to believe he would, but…”
“Then we need a Plan B,” I say. “We have to be prepared for any outcome.”
“Okay, so if my father refuses to come clean, then we can go to the board with the evidence,” Dixon adds, his voice shaking at the prospect of betraying his own family. “We'll present our case and let them decide what to do next.”
“Sounds like a plan. We'll give your father a chance to make things right, but if he doesn't, we're taking matters into our own hands.”
As we discuss the strategy further, we are both committed to navigating this difficult situation together.
“Whatever happens, we'll get through this,” Dixon says, his hand reaching out to cover mine on the table, offering a comforting squeeze.
“Yes, we will. Legacy Inc. isn’t going anywhere.”
9
Dixon
Will he tell me the truth? My father has always instilled ethical boundaries in our family, so this is out of character for him, but the proof is right here. As I sit down on the armchair, I’m scared to hear his excuses. Finding out about this, it completely destroys everything I’ve learned from him. The man that raised me would never do anything like this. “Father, we need to talk about something that has been brought to the marketing department.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be handling issues now? I’m retired, remember.”
This conversation isn’t going to end well. So, I grit my teeth, trying to keep myself calm. “This has to do with you directly. A designer has come forward and brought up allegations that you are complacent is stealing their designs.”
“Ah, yes,” George replies, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “The stolen designs. I've been meaning to discuss it with you.”
So, he isn’t even going to try to deny it? Who is this man?
“Discuss?” I have always been an optimist, believing in the inherent goodness of people, but this situation is pushing myfaith to its limit. “Do you not understand how negatively this affects the company? Not just you?”
George takes a slow sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Look, I have proof,” I press on, handing him a stack of papers. Photographic evidence of the stolen designs stare up at us, daring George to deny their existence. Even though, he doesn’t deny his involvement.
“Where did you get these?”
“Does it matter?” I snap, frustration boiling in my chest. “What matters is that our company, our family legacy, is at stake because of your actions! What were you thinking?”
“Son, please,” George begins, setting down his glass and leaning forward. “You must understand the pressures I was under. This business means everything to me, and I was simply trying to ensure its survival.”
“By stealing?” I counter, feeling my heart fracture. I want nothing more than for him to tell me it is all a misunderstanding, that the accusations are false, but here we are, facing the undeniable truth. I can’t even bring myself to look at him in the eye.
“Sometimes,” George sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, “we have to make tough decisions in the name of progress.”
