Part 7:

If it’s actually making a difference, we talk about full-time. If it’s not, I walk away and we never speak about it again. And the salary? half for part-time.45,000. Still more than I make now, but not enough that I feel bought. Isabella stuck out her hand. Deal. They shook on it. In the car on the way home, Sophie fell asleep against Daniel’s shoulder.

His phone buzzed. A text from Marcus. Did you really just take a job with Isabella Grant? News traveled fast. Sort of. Daniel texted back. Part-time trial basis. Man, that’s either the smartest thing you’ve ever done or the dumbest. Can’t tell which yet. Daniel looked at his daughter sleeping peacefully.

At the city passing by outside at the possibility of something different, something better, something terrifying. Yeah, he texted back. Me neither. Daniel’s first day at the Grant Foundation started with him getting lost in the building. The 48th floor had seemed straightforward during his interview, but now trying to find the foundation offices on the 32nd floor.

He walked in three complete circles before a maintenance worker took pity on him. You looking for the foundation? Yeah, I thought it was this way, but nobody can find it. They stuck it in the back corner like they’re embarrassed by it. The worker pointed down a hallway Daniel had walked past twice.

through those doors. Hang a left, then it’s the last office suite on the right. Thanks. Good luck, man. You’re going to need it. That should have been his first warning. The foundation offices were nothing like the rest of Grant Industries, where the main floors were all glass and chrome and modern art.

This place looked like it hadn’t been updated since the ’90s. Beige walls, fluorescent lighting, furniture that was probably purchased in bulk from an office liquidation sale. A woman in her 50s sat at the reception desk reading a paperback romance novel. She didn’t look up when Daniel approached. Excuse me, I’m Daniel Brooks.

Miss Grant said you’d be starting today. She still didn’t look up from her book. You can use the empty office at the end of the hall. There’s no computer yet, but it said they’d get to it eventually. Eventually. Could be a week. Could be a month. They’re busy people. She turned a page. Daniel found the office.

It was small, windowless, and smelled like old coffee. There was a desk, a chair that squeaked, and nothing else. No computer, no phone, no supplies. He stood in the doorway wondering what he’d gotten himself into. You must be the new guy. Daniel turned. A man about his age stood there holding two cups of coffee. He had the look of someone who’d given up trying to impress anyone a long time ago.

I’m Daniel Kevin Marsh. I run the operations side of things. Well, I say run. Mostly I process paperwork and try not to think too hard about where the money goes. He offered one of the coffees. Fair warning, it tastes like dish water, but it’s hot. Daniel took it. Thanks. So, you’re the guy who told Isabella Grant to sit down in a cafe.

Word really gets around, huh? Are you kidding? That story’s been circulating for a week. You’re like a legend around here. Most of us just take her abuse and cash our paychecks. She abuses people here. Kevin laughed. Not directly. She barely knows we exist. But the foundation director, Richard Pollson, he’s a piece of work.

Used to work at her father’s company back in the day. Isabella keeps him around out of some misplaced sense of loyalty. But the guy is basically checked out. Shows up three times a week, signs what needs signing, then disappears to his country club. And nobody said anything to who? Isabella. She’s got bigger problems than a foundation that runs itself or runs itself into the ground, depending on how you look at it.

A voice boomed from down the hall. Marsh, where the hell is the Riverside Project report? Kevin grimaced. That’s Richard. Welcome to Paradise, man. Richard Pollson was exactly what Daniel expected. Late60s, expensive suit, the kind of tan you only get from having too much free time. He looked at Daniel like he was an inconvenience.

You’re Brooks? Yes, sir. Isabella said you’d be consulting on community outreach. I don’t know what that means, but stay out of my way and we’ll get along fine. I’ve been running this foundation for 15 years without any help, and I don’t need some contractor telling me how to do my job. I’m not here to tell you. Good. Keep it that way.

Richard turned to Kevin. The report on your desk? Where it’s been since Tuesday? Richard grunted and walked away. Kevin waited until he was gone. See what I mean? Guy’s a joy. Daniel spent the rest of the morning trying to understand what the foundation actually did. Kevin gave him access to files, spreadsheets, reports.

The numbers were impressive. $50 million a year in grants and donations. Hundreds of community programs funded. It all looked good on paper. But when Daniel started digging deeper, things got murky. “What’s the Riverside Youth Center?” he asked Kevin. Oh, that’s one of our flagship programs. We fund after school activities for underprivileged kids.

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