The Weight of Judgment
Part 1: The Dismissal
Alexander Mercer stood at the window of his corner office, eighteen floors above the bustling downtown streets of Westbrook. Rain tapped against the glass in an irregular rhythm, blurring the city lights into watercolor smears of red and yellow. He adjusted his designer watch—a Patek Philippe that had cost more than most people’s monthly rent—and frowned at the dark clouds that had descended without warning.
“Mr. Mercer,” his assistant Diane’s voice came through the intercom, “your 4:30 is here.”
Alexander sighed. His 4:30 was Martin Wheeler from the nonprofit sector, seeking funding for some community project. These meetings were always the same—passionate pleas for money that rarely aligned with Mercer Capital’s investment strategy. But his public relations team insisted on maintaining the appearance of corporate social responsibility, so here he was, wasting an hour that could be better spent elsewhere.
“Send him in,” Alexander replied, moving to his desk. He straightened his already perfect tie and prepared the polite but dismissive expression he reserved for these occasions.
The man who entered wasn’t what Alexander expected. Martin Wheeler was young—early thirties perhaps—and wore a shabby brown suit that had seen better days. His shoes were scuffed, his tie slightly crooked, and he carried a worn leather messenger bag that was peeling at the edges. But what struck Alexander most was the man’s unwavering confidence as he crossed the expansive office and extended his hand.
“Mr. Mercer, thank you for seeing me. I’m Martin Wheeler from Bridgeway Community Development.”
Alexander gave the hand a perfunctory shake, noticing the calluses that suggested manual labor—certainly not the smooth grip of someone accustomed to boardrooms.
“Please, sit,” Alexander gestured to the chair across from his desk. “I understand you have a proposal for us.”
Martin nodded, reaching into his bag to retrieve a slim folder. “Yes, sir. Bridgeway is working to convert an abandoned warehouse in East Westbrook into a community center. We’ve secured partial funding, but we need a lead investor to—”
“East Westbrook,” Alexander interrupted, unable to keep the disdain from his voice. “That’s not exactly an area known for its return on investment.”