Something about the man's face seemed familiar.
The supervisor continued.
“He worked here during the early expansion.”
The billionaire frowned.
“Why did he leave?”
The supervisor hesitated.
Then said, “There was a disagreement.”
The billionaire looked up.
“What kind?”
“An aircraft was being prepared for a charter, and he wasn't satisfied with a hydraulic-system issue.”
The billionaire became still.
A memory surfaced.
A wealthy client.
A tight schedule.
A delayed departure.
An angry investor who insisted the aircraft should leave on time.
He remembered shouting at the maintenance team.
Remembered being told that the aircraft required further work.
Remembered accusing someone of being unnecessarily cautious.
The flight had been delayed.
The technical issue was resolved.
But the argument remained in his memory as one of the most frustrating days of his early career.
He looked toward the photograph.
“What happened to him?”
The supervisor sighed.
“He left a few months later.”
“Why?”
“Different reasons, depending on who you ask.”
The billionaire stared.
The supervisor continued.
“He said the company was becoming too willing to pressure technicians about schedules.”
The billionaire looked down.
For a moment, he remembered his younger self.
Ambitious.
Exhausted.
Terrified of losing his business.
Convinced that every delay threatened his future.
He'd treated employees as obstacles when they raised inconvenient concerns.
He'd told himself that the company couldn't afford caution.
But the aircraft hadn't been ready.
The technician had been right.
He looked toward the photograph again.
Then asked, “Do you know where he went?”
The supervisor smiled faintly.
“He stayed in aviation.”
The billionaire nodded.
The supervisor continued.
“Good man. Had a daughter who was always asking questions about airplanes.”
The billionaire froze.
A daughter.
He looked more closely at the photograph.
Then asked for the technician's name.
When the supervisor told him, the billionaire felt his stomach tighten.
He recognized it.
Not from the old company records.
From Meridian's acquisition documents.
It was the family name the young Black CEO used before establishing her business under her married mother's surname.
He suddenly understood.
The woman he'd mocked in his hangar was the daughter of a technician who'd challenged him decades earlier over aircraft maintenance.
The daughter of a man he'd dismissed because an honest technical concern interfered with his schedule.
He sat down on an old wooden bench.
For several minutes, he said nothing.