“Elisa screamed at a four-year-old child who hadn’t eaten in two days,” Damon said, setting his coffee cup down with a sharp clink. “She called her a stray because her dress wasn’t worth five thousand dollars.”
“It was a private event!” Arthur argued, throwing his hands in the air. “There are rules, Damon! You cannot simply allow homeless children to wander through high-security galas and help themselves to eighty-dollar pastries! If you want to help them, you write a check to the foundation, let the administrators handle the distribution, and attend the dinner! That is how society works!”
Damon stepped toward the elder board member, his height intimidating, his presence cold and suffocating.
“Then society is broken,” Damon said softly. “And the foundation is a fraud. You spent two hundred thousand dollars on flowers and ice sculptures last night, Arthur. How much of that money actually reaches the children on the street?”
Arthur opened his mouth, then paused. He cleared his throat. “Administrative costs are high… logistical overhead, security, promotion—”
“Less than twelve percent,” Damon interrupted. “I looked at the tax filings this morning. Twelve cents of every dollar raised by your foundation goes to actual food and shelter. The rest pays for your galas, your public relations firms, and your administrative salaries.”
Arthur flushed deep red. “That is standard practice in the non-profit sector—”
“Not in my sector,” Damon said. “As of nine o’clock this morning, I am launching a new foundation. The Lily Vance Endowment.”
Arthur stared at him. “The… the street child?”
“She has a name,” Damon snapped. “And her mother was widowed because Julian Rochefort’s company refused to maintain basic safety gear on their cranes. The new endowment will be funded with fifty million dollars from my personal accounts. It will provide direct medical care, housing, and legal assistance to families displaced by corporate negligence.”
“You’re declaring war on the entire establishment, Damon!” Arthur warned, his voice shaking. “Julian Rochefort will destroy you! He controls the port, he controls the labor unions, and he has the mayor in his pocket!”
Damon walked back to the window, looking down at the bustling city below.
“Let him try,” Damon said softly. “Tell Julian I’ll see him at the city council hearing this afternoon.”
