Chapter 105| The Chairman’s Company(First Gift Bonus - )
Halden arrived on the third morning, stepping off his own considerably more modest seaplane with none of the formal, buttoned-up composure Allen had grown accustomed to across a year of Association briefings — instead dressed in loose linen and sandals, looking, for the first time since they’d met, genuinely, thoroughly relaxed.
"You clean up considerably differently out of uniform," Irene observed, grinning as she helped haul his single, unassuming bag up the dock.
"Forty years in this profession teaches a man to appreciate the rare occasions he’s permitted to look like anything other than a walking liability report," Halden said, a dry, genuine smile touching his weathered features. "I intend to make full use of the privilege this week."
They settled him into the villa’s adjoining guest quarters, and by the time the sun had climbed fully overhead, Halden had already shed the last visible traces of his considerable, careful formality, joining Irene and Cole — who’d flown in separately two days prior at Irene’s enthusiastic insistence, their friendship having deepened steadily since Jenunl Island into something neither of them had yet properly named — for an enthusiastic, thoroughly undignified attempt at parasailing that left all three of them soaked, breathless, and laughing too hard to properly narrate the experience afterward.
Allen watched from the beach with quiet, genuine amusement, Vivian settled beside him with her restored eyes tracking Irene’s distant, delighted shrieking with visible, fond exasperation.
"I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this unguarded," Allen said, watching Halden nearly capsize the small motorboat towing the parasail rig, laughing too hard at his own considerable clumsiness to properly steer.
"He’s earned it," Vivian said simply. "The same way we have."
That evening, once the day’s considerable activity had settled into comfortable, sun-warmed exhaustion, Allen found himself sharing a quiet dinner with Halden alone on the villa’s private deck, the others having scattered toward their own evening pursuits — Irene and Cole exploring the island’s small night market, Myria deep in a book she’d finally, properly finished, Everlyn and Vivian sharing a quiet, unhurried walk along the moonlit shore.
"Can I ask you something?" Allen said, once the meal had settled into comfortable, companionable quiet.
"Always."
"Why do you do all of this?" Allen gestured vaguely, encompassing the villa, the considerable expense of their entire trip, the genuine warmth Halden had extended toward them since their very first meeting. "You’re the chairman of an entire national Hunter association. You don’t owe any of us this kind of personal investment."
Halden considered the question carefully, swirling his glass with quiet, thoughtful deliberation before answering. "I had a daughter once," he said finally, voice carrying weight Allen hadn’t heard from him before. "Long before you and your wives ever crossed my desk. She awakened low-rank, the same as you did initially. Her own family — not mine, her mother’s side — treated her exactly the way yours once treated you. Discarded. Deemed unworthy of investment."
Allen absorbed the revelation carefully, something aching and understanding settling in his chest. "What happened to her?"
"She took her own path, eventually," Halden said quietly. "Built a modest, ordinary life far from Hunter politics entirely. We’re close now, though it took considerable years to rebuild what her mother’s family’s cruelty very nearly destroyed." He met Allen’s gaze directly. "When I first reviewed your file, Hunter Veton, I saw more of her story in it than I expected to. I couldn’t offer her the intervention she needed, all those years ago. I could offer you one."
Allen felt his throat tighten considerably at the admission, gratitude and quiet, aching understanding mingling in equal measure. "Thank you," he said softly. "For everything. Not just this trip. All of it, since the very beginning."
Halden’s smile carried genuine, weathered warmth. "You’ve more than repaid whatever debt you imagine you owe me, Allen. Watching you build what you’ve built — the guild, the marriage that started as convenient disposal and became something worth genuinely admiring, the way you’ve faced every impossible crisis without ever once losing the person underneath it all — that’s been considerably more rewarding to witness than any single vacation could properly repay in return."
They sat together in comfortable, companionable silence for a while longer, the ocean’s steady, distant rhythm filling the space between them, until Halden finally spoke again, voice carrying lighter, more genuine amusement.
"Now," he said, setting his glass aside with renewed, mischievous energy, "I believe Irene mentioned something about a jet ski race tomorrow morning. I intend to embarrass myself considerably further in the attempt, and I’d very much like witnesses."
Allen’s answering laugh carried the same easy, unburdened warmth that had settled over the entire island since their arrival. "I wouldn’t miss it," he said, and meant it completely.
They lingered a while longer over the remains of dinner, conversation drifting easily between lighter topics — Halden’s occasionally embarrassing stories from his own early career, Allen’s careful, fond recounting of Irene’s increasingly elaborate attempts to master every water sport the island’s staff could offer — until the moon had climbed fully overhead, casting long, silver light across the gentle, lapping waves below their deck.
"I mean it, you know," Halden said eventually, voice softening once more. "About watching you build what you’ve built. I’ve spent four decades in this profession, Allen. I’ve seen considerable talent rise and considerable talent fall, usually undone by the very power that first made them remarkable. You’ve never once let that happen. Whatever else changes as your influence continues growing, I hope you hold onto that."
"I intend to," Allen said quietly. "I’ve got four considerable reasons to make sure I do."
Halden’s answering smile carried genuine, weathered pride. "Then I have every confidence you will."
They parted for the evening shortly after, Halden retreating toward his own guest quarters with a final, warm clasp of Allen’s shoulder, and Allen lingered alone on the deck a while longer, watching the moonlit water and turning the evening’s conversation over with quiet, grateful contentment, before finally making his own way back toward the villa where his wives, one by one, were already drifting toward well-earned, peaceful sleep.