Chapter 9: The truth

The first week as Leonard's driver was an exercise in patience.

Leonard spoke perhaps ten words to him total. He would emerge from the estate at precisely seven AM, slide into the back of the black Mercedes without acknowledging Daveson's presence, and immediately pull out his phone or laptop. During the drive, he worked in silence. When they arrived at Heyden Industries headquarters, he'd exit without a word.

Daveson learned Leonard's schedule through observation. Morning meetings with department heads. Lunch, usually working through it at his desk. Afternoon appointments with clients or partners. Evening events several times a week, dinners or functions where Leonard networked with mechanical efficiency.

The man never stopped. Never relaxed. He moved through his days like a perfectly calibrated machine, every action purposeful, every word calculated for maximum impact.

And he was ruthless.

Daveson watched Leonard fire three people in the first week alone. Each time, his voice remained calm, his reasoning logical and irrefutable. No second chances. No mercy. Just cold assessment and colder execution.

"Your performance has been consistently below standard," Leonard told a middle-aged accountant who had worked for the company for fifteen years. "This isn't personal. It's simply that your position requires excellence, and you're providing adequacy at best. I'm terminating your employment effective immediately."

The man had tried to argue, to beg for another chance. Leonard had simply gestured to security. "Escort him out. Have his desk cleared by end of day."

Daveson had driven Leonard home in silence that night, watching him in the rearview mirror. Leonard's expression never changed. No guilt. No doubt. Just the same cold calculation he applied to everything.

"Something you want to say?" Leonard asked suddenly, his eyes meeting Daveson's in the mirror.

"No, sir."

"You're judging me. I can see it in your face."

"I'm not paid to judge you, sir."

"But you are anyway." Leonard's tone was matter-of-fact. "You think I'm cruel. Heartless. Maybe even a monster."

Daveson said nothing.

"Let me tell you something about business, Roarke. Sentimentality is weakness. Loyalty is a luxury we can't afford when someone isn't performing. Every person in this company has a job to do. If they can't do it, they're replaced. That's not cruelty. That's survival."

"Yes, sir."

"My mother built this empire from nothing. She's brilliant, visionary, and absolutely ruthless when necessary. I learned from the best. And if you're going to work for me, you need to understand that I won't apologize for doing what needs to be done."

"I understand, sir."

Leonard's eyes held his for another moment in the mirror. Then he returned to his laptop, the conversation apparently over.

But Daveson understood something new about Leonard now. The coldness wasn't just personality. It was armor. Protection. A way of surviving in a world where weakness meant destruction.

It almost made him human.

Almost.

Two weeks into his new position, Daveson noticed something odd.

They were at Heyden Industries headquarters, late evening. Most of the staff had gone home. Leonard was in his office finishing paperwork while Daveson waited outside.

Through the glass wall, Daveson saw Leonard's expression change. The cold mask slipped for just a moment, replaced by something darker. Confusion. Then anger.

Leonard stood abruptly, gathered several documents, and strode out. "With me," he said curtly.

Daveson followed him to the executive floor, to Lissa's office. Her assistant had left for the day, but light showed under Lissa's door. Leonard didn't knock. He simply walked in.

"We need to talk. Now."

Daveson positioned himself outside, close enough to hear raised voices but far enough to maintain the pretense of privacy.

"Leonard, whatever this is, it can wait until morning."

"No, it can't." Leonard's voice was tight with barely controlled fury. "I was reviewing the quarterly reports. There's a discrepancy. A large one."

"Discrepancies happen. We'll have accounting look into it."

"I already did. Twelve million dollars, Mother. Transferred out of the operating account to an offshore entity I've never heard of. And when I asked accounting about it, they said the transfer was authorized by you."

Silence.

"So I'm asking you now, directly. Where did that money go?"

"That's confidential business, Leo. You don't need to know every detail of every transaction."

"I'm the vice president of operations. I absolutely need to know when massive sums leave our accounts." Leonard's voice rose slightly. "What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything. I'm managing aspects of this business that don't concern you yet."

"Don't concern me? This is my company too! Or have you forgotten that? Have you forgotten that I've worked my entire life to be ready to take over, to continue what you built?"

"And you will. When the time comes. But that time is not now." Lissa's voice hardened. "I'm still the CEO. I'm still the majority shareholder. And I'm still your mother. You don't question my decisions, Leo. You trust them."

"Trust?" Leonard's laugh was bitter. "You want me to trust you when you're moving millions without explanation? When you won't even tell me what it's for?"

"Yes. I want you to trust that I know what I'm doing."

"Like Father trusted you?"

The silence that followed was deadly.

"What did you say?" Lissa's voice was very quiet.

"I asked about Father. Grimstone. You sent him away three years ago. Said he needed to handle business overseas. But he never came back. And now you won't tell me where he is, won't let me contact him directly. You filter every message, every call. Why?"

"Your father is handling sensitive matters that require his full attention."

"That's not an answer, Mother. That's an evasion." Leonard's voice shook slightly. "I tried calling his personal number last week. It's disconnected. I tried emailing. The address bounced back. It's like he doesn't exist anymore."

"He's fine. He's simply... occupied."

"Then give me a real address. A working phone number. Let me talk to him myself."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so!" Lissa's composure finally cracked. "Because this is my company, my decision, and my family. And you will respect my authority or you can find yourself a new position elsewhere!"

The silence stretched. Daveson could almost feel Leonard's shock through the wall.

"I see." Leonard's voice was cold again, all emotion locked away. "So that's how it is. You're the queen, and I'm just... what? The prince who's supposed to sit quietly and do as he's told?"

"You're my son. And someday, this will all be yours. But that day is not today. And until it comes, you will follow my lead. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly clear, Mother. Excuse me."

The door opened. Leonard strode out, his face a mask of ice, but Daveson saw the tightness around his eyes, the rigid set of his shoulders. He was furious. And underneath the fury, something else.

Fear.

"We're leaving," Leonard said shortly.

Daveson drove them back to the estate in complete silence. Leonard stared out the window, his jaw clenched, one hand forming a fist against his thigh.

When they arrived, Leonard didn't immediately exit the car. He sat there, breathing carefully, visibly trying to regain his composure.

"Sir?" Daveson asked quietly. "Are you alright?"