But at the quarterly meeting, he had the marketing department give a standalone presentation.
I was the one who went up and delivered it. When I finished, he gave a single nod. That was it.
After that, my workload kept growing.
Product line restructuring, supply chain optimization, new brand incubation. I had a hand in all of it.
I didn't mind the work. What I feared was having nothing to do.
In two years, Henson Group's annual revenue went from seven million to thirty million.
By the third year, it hit eighty-five million.
Last year, the CFO told the board that based on current growth and profit margins, Henson Group had met the criteria for an IPO.
After that meeting, I stood alone in the hallway.
Felicity texted me: "Congratulations." I sent back a smiley face.
I thought, Surely things would be different now.
They weren't.
Otis walked out of the conference room, and I greeted him. He grunted and kept walking.
That evening, the whole family gathered for dinner. Everyone talked about the IPO.
Nobody mentioned me.
My seat was always at the far end of the table.
When we took the family portrait at New Year's, I stood at the very edge. Sometimes I barely fit inside the frame.
No matter how well I performed, no matter what results I delivered, in the Hensons' eyes, I would always be an outsider.
Seven years. Long enough for a child to finish elementary school.
Long enough for a struggling startup to go from nothing to an IPO.
Long enough for a love to cool from a blaze into ash.
And long enough for a man to have every last shred of hope ground down to nothing.
Footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.
I stubbed out my cigarette and tossed it into the trash, along with the proposal.
After work, I drove back to the Henson family's estate.
I eased the door open. I hadn't even made it past the foyer when voices drifted from the living room, laced with unmistakable irritation.
"What's going on with that proposal? Is it really so hard to get him to do one simple thing?"
I stopped in my tracks.
Otis sat on the sofa, his expression cold. Beside him, Felicity tried to explain. "Dad, Joseph's probably just been swamped lately."
"Swamped?" Otis scoffed. "Swamped with what? I've got more on my plate in a single day than he sees in a month, and you don't hear me complaining."