CHAPTER TEN

Late that evening, the halls of the Warbucks mansion were quiet after the hubbub of the day had finally died down and the negotiating teams had laid down their arms for the night. The only sounds echoing up and down the corridors were whispers as the home's residents and guests bid each other goodnight and as the cleaning staff flitted in and out of the offices tidying up for the following day.

Cornelia Thompson found herself staring unfocused over the Manhattan skyline, which glittered dazzlingly in the night sky over the gardens of the mansion from the sitting room balcony in her guest suite. Clutching a glass of scotch in her hand, she sighed deeply and cast her eyes down at the dark grounds below.

The merger had been such a painful disaster from the beginning, and with each passing day she felt the situation was growing worse and worse.

She was too savvy a businesswoman to be blind to the merits of her father's arguments in favor of pursuing a merger. The depression had been disastrous for their company, and their financial picture looking into the future was not at all secure. She acknowledged that reality candidly.

But to pursue a merger with Oliver Warbucks, of all people? It seemed to her the height of foolishness. The man was domineering and powerful, wealthy beyond anyone's wildest dreams, and a titan of the industry. For him, Warbucks Steel was but one of his many dozens of business ventures and companies, a drop in the bucket that constituted merely a portion of his annual revenues.

But for her and her family, the Thompson Corporation was everything. It was the labor of love that her grandfather had started after working his way up from a lowly foundry laborer to a factory supervisor, all the while penny-pinching and working odd jobs to eventually save up enough money to buy the factory himself. Then he had bought the factory in the neighboring town, and so on, and so forth, until factories bearing the Thompson name stretched from Chicago across the Great Lakes, into Missouri and Kentucky and down as far south as New Orleans. The company represented the life's work of every man in her family—and of her, ever since she had toured the family's original foundry in Chicago for the first time at the tender age of seven.

And the company would have been everything for her and Michael's future as well, especially as their father was growing older and had seriously begun to consider retirement. She and her brother had toiled under his leadership for so long, advising him, serving him, learning from him, and working like dogs to ensure that the company was successful.

But then, right when he was on the cusp of admitting that he was tired, loosening his grip, and turning over the reins to them, the depression had struck and threatened everything they had built.

"This is the only way, Cornelia," her father had said after one of their fights, his eyes hard and resolved. "The company may not outlast the depression unless we make a drastic change. We need the financial stability that someone like Oliver Warbucks can offer."

It didn't matter how much she and Michael had argued with him, how many tears she had shed and how many screaming fights the three of them had had. She had begged him endlessly to reconsider, to try to hold out a little while longer. But her father had stood firmly as he always did. Once he had made up his mind, it was done.

"You've got to stop moping around, Cornelia."

Her brother's quiet voice startled her, and she nearly dropped her glass of scotch.

"Michael! Don't sneak up on me like that."

He walked up and stood next to her, looking out over the lights shining in the night sky. "I hate seeing you like this. I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better."

"How am I supposed to feel better?" she murmured. "Just when Father was finally getting ready to retire, we're on track to yield near-total control to the Warbucks empire."

"I know."

"The man is swimming in so much money that he could absorb the Thompson Corporation in its entirety and barely notice a change in his bottom line. Where does that leave us?"

"Nowhere," Michael admitted. "It seems inevitable that he'll edge Father out of the way for the CEO position, and you and I will end up with nothing but crumbs. Maybe a vice presidency between the two of us, and the regional headquarters back in Chicago. It's a shame."

"It's worse than a shame, Michael," she said bitterly, feeling tears sting the corner of her eyes. "It's the end of everything we've worked for our entire lives."

"And meanwhile, the presses are all going ga-ga over Warbucks and his lovely bride-to-be and adoring children," Michael added with a resentful scowl. "As if the man doesn't already have everything."

"Indeed," she mused.

She was silent for a long moment. Michael's comment had reminded her of a nascent idea that had popped ever so briefly into her mind earlier that day, only to vanish quietly when the distractions of the negotiations pulled her back to reality.

Now, her subconscious mind resurfaced the idea, vague and unformed, and she pondered it thoughtfully. It was not a good idea. In fact, in all likelihood, it was an exceptionally bad idea. But was there a chance … ? Could it maybe work?

"The newspapers just adore a good rags-to-riches story, don't they?" Cornelia said, more to herself than to Michael. "A rich man meets a working-class girl, they fall in love, adopt a couple of street urchins, and then all live happily ever after. It's as good as a real-life fairy tale."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "I suppose so."

"But these days, what really attracts attention is when those fairy tales don't quite work out as planned."

Michael said nothing, his eyes silently prompting her to go on.

"Hear me out," she said slowly, still mulling over the thought that was more quickly taking shape in her mind with each passing second. "What if we created … well, let's call it a little diversion."

"What do you have in mind?" he asked quietly. His eyes darted back into the guest suite, as if checking to see whether anyone else was within earshot. The room was empty, and the night air around them was still.

"Well," she said slowly, thinking as she spoke aloud, "What if we tried to work something a bit underhanded, some kind of social scandal to drum up more negative press? Something that would make Father and our Board reconsider the notion of joining forces with the Warbucks family."

"Such as?"

"I've been thinking. After that disastrous press conference when the reporters wouldn't stop asking questions about Oliver's romantic liaison with his secretary, Father was furious. He was even angrier the next day when none of the newspapers even quoted our press conference at all. Any mentions of the merger were merely a postscript to the news of their engagement. I haven't seen him that livid in a long time."

Michael shook his head. "I agree that it's all very distasteful. But I still don't understand what you're getting at."

"Maybe we need to ratchet up the dramatics a bit more," Cornelia said carefully. "If Father won't listen to reason and back out of the merger willingly, perhaps an endless stream of negative media coverage would force his hand. What if … say … word got around that Miss Farrell was involved with another man behind Oliver's back? The gossip rags would go absolutely wild."

"Is she?" Michael gasped.

"Of course not. But people could be led to believe that she is."

Michael gaped at her, the exasperation he felt clearly evident in his face. "Good gracious, Cornelia. Have you lost your mind?"

"You can't deny that it would be beneficial for us if she wasn't part of his negotiating team."

"Well, sure, of course it would. Her snooping into our contracts and debts has certainly given Oliver new leverage to hold over our heads. But what you're suggesting is—"

Before Michael could continue, she hastened on.

"Hear me out! Just imagine it. The rumors fly. Their engagement falls through. The presses make a huge scandal out of it. Our shareholders already resent the media coverage of the Warbucks family as much as we do. They'd ratchet up so much pressure on Father that he would have no choice but to pull out of the merger once and for all."

Michael was silent and merely stared at her in astonishment.

"Oliver prizes loyalty above all else," Cornelia went on. "If he were convinced that she had been unfaithful, the fairy tale would be over. It could be a win-win for us."

Michael shook his head. "Forget a win-win, Cornelia. It could be a real problem for us. If anyone found out we had any involvement in something like that, we'd be toast—or worse, find ourselves in court facing a lawsuit for defamation. It's too risky."

"Michael, you don't realize the vulnerability of our position!" she hissed. "If we don't do something drastic, Father is going to lose everything to Oliver. We are going to lose everything to Oliver. We may end up with a few token leadership positions now, but what about next year? The year after? If we keep blindly humming along pretending nothing is wrong, it's only a matter of time before Oliver sidelines us and takes over the business completely."

"We can't be sure of that."

"Wake up, Michael! I've studied the man, his history, his businesses, everything about him for months as part of this merger. That's exactly what Oliver Warbucks does. He's controlling, he's domineering, and he runs all of his enterprises with an iron fist. Do you think he made his fortune by playing nicely with others? At least this way, we stand a chance of blocking the merger before it's too late."

"Somehow I worry that I know who you're envisioning in your mind's eye," Michael muttered, "as this 'other man' romancing Miss Farrell behind Oliver's back."

Cornelia couldn't help but grin, a glint in her eyes that so closely resembled her father's.

"It would make the idea of a merger between our two families just about impossible, don't you think?" she said. "I can tell you think she's attractive. You're always so kind and charming with her."

She could tell she was wearing him down. She could practically see the thoughts in his head churning as he mulled over her words. "I still think it's dangerous. If we go through with this, someone is bound to figure us out."

Cornelia shook her head. "I think we might be able to enlist some help, to create some distance and make sure no one could prove we planned anything."

"Help? From whom?"

"I believe there's someone else who has an interest in splitting the happy couple too, someone who may have better connections to the New York media establishment than we do," she said. "Tell me, have you heard about the little anticorruption campaign that Oliver and Miss Farrell are spearheading against the New York orphanage system?"