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interest rates on delinquent loans had been driven up to a rate which made it impossible for Anthony to survive.
    It was inevitable Anthony would lose his company, and at least Liam’s way offered him an option outside of bankruptcy and personal financial ruin. He left his office and walked to the conference room.
    Anthony sat in one of the seats on the long side of the table dominating the space. Leaning forward, with his hands clasped together on the polished gray marbled top, he appeared to be praying. His ruddy face stood in stark contrast to his shock of white, thinning hair and equally white, neatly groomed mustache. His brown eyes were weary as he peered up to watch Liam walk through the door. Seated next to him was a man Liam recognized as Anthony’s attorney, Steven Cummings. On the opposite side of the attorney sat Charity, poised, professional, and confident in her tailored business suit.
    Tension hung in the air as he took a seat directly across from Anthony. He extended his hand. Anthony hesitated before accepting it in a punishing grip.
    Liam smiled inwardly. He respected the fight this man was giving him, even if it were all for naught.
    “Mr. Jones,” Liam said in greeting. He greeted Mr. Cummings similarly.
    “I really appreciate how you bowled over my lenders, Mr. Whitmore. You’re a chip off the old block.” Anthony’s lip curled into a sneer as he tried to stare him down. Liam smiled and glanced over to the back wall of the conference room, he had no desire to have a staring competition with Mr. Jones. A commissioned painting of Liam Whitmore II at sixty-five years of age was the only adornment in the room. Its large, commanding presence was much like the man.
    Liam looked down to his collection of paperwork. He pushed them toward Anthony.
    “Here’s the contract, Mr. Jones.”
    Anthony slapped his hand down on the papers, jarring the table. “What about all my employees? What do they get out of this…this bullshit here? Huh? An ‘I’m sorry but I’ll see ya’ would be my guess.” He folded his arms over his thick chest. “This ain’t anything more than a hostile takeover.”
    Liam didn’t blink an eye over the man’s outburst. “This is a leveraged buyout, not a takeover. And as I understand it, Mr. Jones, half of your workforce has already been laid off. Isn’t that right?”
    Liam leaned back and steepled his fingers in front of him, letting his words sink in. The odor of wood polish and cleaner mixed with the scent of aftershave and Charity’s perfume. Anthony looked to his attorney who gave him a brief nod and collected the contract. He looked through it page by page. Several minutes passed.
    “Everything is as discussed, Anthony,” Mr. Cummings stated after the last page. “If you have anything to add, now is the time.”
    Anthony’s shoulders slumped and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. His ruddy complexion turned ashen. “I need to know my workers will be taken care of, Mr. Whitmore. Some have worked for me for nearly thirty years. From back when I started the company. They are the backbone of Gingerbay.”
    Liam gave a quick nod. “I’ll see what I can do for your more skilled people, Mr. Jones. I don’t want to get rid of your most competent help. I’ll only be redirecting your manufacturing process and I’ll need your best laborers to make this a successful transition.”
    Anthony shook his head, his heavy jowls jiggling with the movement. “That’s not good enough. I want all my employees to have some kind of severance package if they need it. If you want the company, this is the deal.”
    “If you keep your company, everyone loses. You need to count your losses and move on.”
    “I owe it to my people,” Anthony insisted. “I can’t let them down.”
    His last words were strained and his eyes shone with unshed tears. His passion for his employees struck a chord in Liam’s gut. He felt almost sorry for Anthony, along with a twinge of something