“Such as?” I keep my voice flat, unimpressed.
“Mixed-use development. Incorporating Highland into new construction instead of demolishing it entirely. Historic preservation that adds value instead of limiting it.” He pauses. “I don’t have all the answers, Maya. But I’m willing to look for them.”
The admission sounds genuine, but I’ve been dealing with corporate doublespeak for six months. “What’s Pierce Enterprises really getting out of this besides good PR? Because I doubt your board approved a collaboration just to be nice.”
“Time,” he says simply. “Time to let the media attention die down while we handle regulatory requirements. Time to explore options that might actually be more profitable than luxury condos.”
There it is.“So it IS about managing the optics. Making Highland go away quietly instead of fighting you in the press.”
“It’s about business,” he corrects. “But business that takes community impact into account. My father built Pierce Enterprises on the principle that profit justifies everything. I’m not sure I agree with that approach anymore.”
I lean forward, genuinely curious despite myself. “Since when? Because your track record suggests otherwise. Three community facilities demolished since you took over, all replaced with luxury developments. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s questioning his father’s approach.”
Something flickers across his face—discomfort, maybe guilt. “Those decisions were made before I... before I understood the full impact of our development practices.”
“And what changed? Some convenient corporate come-to-Jesus moment right when Highland becomes a PR nightmare?”
“Watching a hundred people march through downtown LA because they believe in what you’re fighting for,” he says quietly. “Reading eight hundred and forty-three signatures from people who trust you to represent their interests. Sitting in this office and seeing twenty years of community history that my company wants to erase.”
The words sound sincere, but I can’t afford to believe them. Not when Highland’s future hangs in the balance.
“Pretty words, Mr. Pierce. But actions matter more than speeches.” I keep my voice steady, professional. “If we hypothetically agreed to this collaboration, what would it actually look like? Specifics, not corporate buzz phrases.”
“Partnership. Joint meetings to explore alternatives, shared research on development options that preserve Highland’s mission, coordinated community outreach.” He leans forward. “Real collaboration, Maya. Not you versus us, but us working together.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes to explore every viable option.”
“And if no viable options exist?” I ask, though we both know the answer.
His jaw tightens. “Then Highland gets relocated with Pierce Enterprises’ full support—funding, new facilities, assistance with the transition. No family gets left behind.”
I want to laugh at the audacity. “You mean after you’ve exhausted every alternative and made yourselves lookreasonable, you’ll throw us some relocation money and call it charity?”
“I mean we’ll ensure Highland’s mission continues, even if the building changes.”
“Highland’s mission is tied to this community, this location, this building my father restored with his own hands.” My voice hardens. “You can’t just transplant a community center like it’s a corporate office.”
“I understand that. Which is why we need to explore alternatives that keep Highland rooted here.”
I study his face, weighing every micro-expression. He seems genuine, but I’ve learned not to trust seems. “You want me to bet Highland’s future on your good intentions?”
“I want you to bet Highland’s future on a partnership that gives you more influence than fighting us from the outside.”
At least he’s being direct about the power dynamics. “And if I refuse? If Highland keeps fighting?”
“Then you’ll lose,” he says simply. “Highland is going to be demolished with or without your cooperation. The only question is whether you want to fight that battle from the outside or work for alternatives from the inside.”
The bluntness should anger me, but instead it clarifies everything. He’s right—Highland is outgunned, outfinanced, and running out of time. Six months of being ignored proved that traditional channels don’t work. This collaboration might be my only chance to save what Papa built.
But it could also be an elaborate trap.
“If Highland hypothetically agreed to this—and I’m not saying we would—I’d need guarantees. In writing. With specific timelines, deliverables, and consequences if Pierce Enterprises doesn’t hold up their end.”
“Of course.”
“And I’d need to know you have actual authority to make these commitments. I won’t waste Highland’s time collaborating with someone whose board can override every decision.”
