Contractually Yours

CHAPTER 4

Taehyung

Every employee at Cartier is gathered in the giant auditorium in our L.A. headquarters. Those who are in our HQ1 in McLean, Virginia are teleconferencing.

There's nothing more thrilling than announcing that the company has not only hit every target, but exceeded it. Every department performed above expectations.

With each slide and announcement of our achievements, our people clap and whistle. Hell, I cheer, too. Cartier has always been a great company with an excellent reputation, its financials solid. But it wasn't until I took over that it became the household name it is now. The company's revenue quadrupled, and margins are higher than ever before. We've expanded overseas as well, although there are more markets to reach, especially in Asia. That's one place we haven't fully cracked yet.

One step at a time. This isn't the time to think of strategies to enter a new market. Right now, we celebrate our wins. I'm proud at what we've achieved at Cartier, especially after Kook's latest screwup. Everyone had to work extra to compensate, but we did it.

Hell yeah.

"It goes without saying that the company couldn't have accomplished all this"—I gesture at the final slide behind me—"without you. Therefore, we're announcing special bonuses for everyone."

The cheering and clapping grow louder. I smile at the employees' happiness. I believe in rewarding people for a job well done. And they definitely deserve this.

Even the janitors are applauding, since the bonus will go to them, too. Everyone at Cartier gets a slice of the pie.

I step off the podium, and the people start to disperse to grab the snacks HR prepared. My phone pings.

–GRANDFATHER: An excellent job.

He must've watched the presentation. Grandmother and Mom would've watched it, too, if it weren't for their annual mother-daughter trip to Europe. Unless I'm mistaken, they should be in Paris today.

Thinking about the city reminds me of the girl I met eleven years ago. Most people don't leave much of an impression, but she did. She looked so lost and alone. And based on what she said—and left unsaid—I could piece together her situation. I despise adults who take advantage of children to validate their life choices. My own father did that, and to a certain extent Mom is the same way. But unlike that girl, I have my brothers.

Still, there was a fire in her, although it was so weak, it was ready to be extinguished. I hope she didn't let it die. My advice and encouragement wouldn't have been enough unless she really wanted to do something about her situation. And I've followed my own advice, like we're on a team working toward the same goal of evening the scales—as if that would keep the fire in her burning. Unrealistic, of course, but sometimes the most irrational things motivate me.

Yeonjun hurries over. It's difficult to miss his flaming red hair in the crowd, especially when he's six-two. He started working as my assistant two years ago after graduating from college. Although his wide brown eyes make him look a little like a stunned child, he's quick and understands office politics. On top of that, I appreciate all the gossip he brings me. Some executives believe employee gossip is stupid. Not me. Gossip reveals a lot about what's in my people's heads.

Yeonjun's in a neat dress shirt, jacket and dark slacks. He tries to emulate my dress code, but that's beyond his budget. I'm in a three-piece bespoke suit from Paris, with Cartier cuff links and a tie pin. A timepiece from our newly launched luxury watch division is on my wrist. The market response has been stellar.