Chapter 124: His Own Money

By late afternoon, the open house finally ended.

His professor and classmates left first. Alejandro and Rosalie had gone earlier, while the artisans finished securing their tools before heading home.

Eventually, the restored house became quiet.

Alexander sat at one of the worktables with a bottle of water in front of him, considerably less enthusiastic about his business than he’d been that morning.

Giovanni found him there.

"You look miserable."

"Thank you."

"I thought the open house went well."

"It did."

"Your professor liked the project."

"He did."

"The class liked it."

"Mostly."

"Julian doesn’t count."

Alexander looked up.

Giovanni pulled out the chair across from him.

"So what’s wrong?"

Alexander turned the bottle between his hands.

"I think my professor managed to ruin my housewarming with one question."

"That sounds efficient."

"How long am I prepared to carry the losses?"

Giovanni’s expression changed slightly.

"Ah."

Alexander narrowed his eyes.

"That’s not the reaction I wanted."

"It’s a good question."

"I know. That’s why it’s irritating."

Giovanni sat back.

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Humor me."

Alexander stared at him, then reluctantly closed his eyes.

"This better not be one of those ridiculous exercises where you tell me to imagine I’m standing on a beach."

"No beaches."

"Good."

Giovanni was quiet for a moment.

Then he asked, "Have you ever lost everything?"

Alexander opened one eye.

"You specifically told me to close them."

"Close it."

Alexander did.

"No."

"Not a bad investment. Not a project that underperformed. Everything. Your savings, your investments, whatever you’ve built for yourself. Imagine all of it disappearing until what you’re wearing is practically all you have left."

Alexander’s amusement faded.

"No."

"Neither have I," Giovanni said. "But I’ve been close enough to knowing what financial insecurity feels like that I don’t particularly want to meet it again."

Alexander remained quiet.

He knew that much about Giovanni.

They’d grown up within the same social circle, attended the same schools, and eventually sat at the heads of companies large enough that most people would consider the distinction between wealthy and extremely wealthy rather meaningless.

But they hadn’t started from the same place.

Alexander had been born a Vance.

There had always been a home, family money, investments, and the expectation that one day he would inherit responsibilities along with it all. Even his earliest attempts at investing came with the comforting knowledge that failure wouldn’t decide whether he ate the following month.

Giovanni hadn’t always had that certainty.

"Now imagine Second Life Workshop fails," Giovanni said. "Not Vance Holdings. This. The money you personally put into it is gone. What do you do?"

Alexander sighed.

"Probably go berserk."

Giovanni laughed softly.

"At least you’re self-aware."

"This isn’t money from Grandfather. It isn’t Dad’s. I didn’t ask Vance Holdings to fund it. Everything here came from me."

"And that matters?"

Alexander opened his eyes.

"More than I thought it would."

There it was.

An uncomfortable little truth Alexander had apparently needed a master’s program, a professor, two worried artisans, and one annoyingly perceptive fiancé to discover.

He’d grown up with a silver spoon.

There was no point pretending otherwise.

Alexander had never needed to wonder whether the electricity would still be connected at the end of the month or whether one failed investment would change what his family ate for dinner. Even when he began working, he did so knowing an enormous safety net lay beneath him.

That hadn’t made his work at Vance Holdings meaningless.

But it had changed the stakes.

"When I make a bad decision at Vance, I’m accountable for it," Alexander said. "But I’m rarely the only person making the decision. Something this expensive goes through finance. Legal looks at the exposure. The Board asks questions. Someone always challenges the assumptions before we commit."

"And here?"

Alexander looked around the workshop.

"Here, I am the Board."

Giovanni smiled faintly.

"That sounds dangerous."

"It is becoming increasingly apparent."

Alexander drank some water.

"If this fails because the market isn’t there, that’s mine. If I hired too early, that’s mine too. If I keep funding it because I’m too stubborn to admit the business doesn’t work, nobody can stop me."

"They can."

"Who?"

"Your bank account."

Alexander gave him a flat look.

"Eventually."

"That ’eventually’ is exactly what worries me."

Giovanni’s voice held no judgment.

That somehow made Alexander listen more carefully.

"How much are you prepared to lose?" Giovanni asked. "Half your original investment? More? And if you reach that point, what happens? Do you close? Scale down? Or borrow money because you’re convinced another six months will turn everything around?"

"You’re destroying my confidence."

"I’m trying to make sure confidence isn’t the only thing keeping this place open."

Alexander went quiet.

Giovanni leaned forward.

"Alex, having enough money to survive a mistake can make it very easy to keep making one."

That hurt.

Mostly because it was true.

Alexander looked toward the workshop.

"I already knew the figures weren’t particularly attractive."

"Then why did you do it?"

Alexander didn’t answer immediately.

The obvious response would’ve been because he liked restoration.

That was true.

It just wasn’t the whole story.

"I wanted something that was mine."

Giovanni murmured, "You sound like Aunt Rosalie."

Alexander rubbed his thumb against the label on the bottle.

"Vance Holdings was already there when I was born. I grew into it. I worked for my position, and I know I’m good at what I do, but I didn’t build the company."

He looked around again.

"This place didn’t exist until I decided it should."

That felt different.

Terrifying, apparently, but different.

Then Alexander smiled without much humor.

"And I envied you a little."

"Me?"

"We’re the same age, but you had to think about money differently much earlier than I did. Now Mercer Group is doing well, your restaurants are doing well, and you somehow make running all of it look irritatingly manageable."

Giovanni stared at him.

"Alex."

"What?"

"You see the finished version."

Alexander frowned.

"You weren’t there for every mistake that came before it."

"I know."

"No, I don’t think you do."

Giovanni’s voice remained gentle.

"You’re comparing the beginning of Second Life Workshop to businesses that have already survived their beginnings. That’s not particularly fair to you."

Alexander considered that.

Then Giovanni added, "And I’d hate myself if you’re doing this because I suggested restoration in the first place."

That finally made Alexander straighten.

"I’m not."

"Good."

"You gave me the idea. You didn’t force me to spend the money."

"Also good."

"I can make terrible financial decisions entirely on my own."

"There he is."

Alexander laughed despite himself.

Then the laughter faded.

"I overheard the artisans earlier."

"What did they say?"

"They were wondering whether they should start looking for another job."

Giovanni’s smile disappeared.

"They think this place might close?"

"They were wondering which would run out first. My money or my interest."

Alexander looked down at his hands.

"My first customer was myself. My market still isn’t clearly defined, and two men who spend their days scraping varnish off old furniture managed to identify the problem without needing a master’s degree."

"That doesn’t mean the business is doomed."

"No."

"It means you have work to do."

Alexander nodded.

That sounded considerably less dramatic.

More importantly, it sounded fixable.

Giovanni stood and moved behind him, settling both hands on Alexander’s shoulders. His thumbs pressed gently into the tense muscles near the base of Alexander’s neck before slowly working their way outward.

Alexander stiffened at the unexpected touch, then gradually relaxed beneath his hands.

Apparently, having a fiancé came with certain benefits.

Giovanni gave his shoulders another slow squeeze.

"Give yourself a timeline."

Alexander tilted his head back slightly.

"For what?"

"Not necessarily for becoming profitable. For proving there’s a real market. Find the clients who value what you’re selling. Find out what they’re actually willing to pay. Then review the numbers again."

"And if they still don’t work?"

"Then you make a decision before pride starts making it for you."

Alexander closed his eyes again.

He didn’t particularly like that answer.

Which probably meant he needed it.

Giovanni squeezed his shoulders.

"Come on."

"Where?"

"Nowhere. We’re locking up."

Alexander glanced toward the workshop.

"That’s very romantic."

"I’ll try harder tomorrow."

Giovanni looked toward the entrance.

"Elias?"

Elias, who had apparently been waiting long enough to hear his name, appeared from the hallway.

"Yes, sir?"

"Can you help us with the doors?"

"Of course."

Alexander stood and picked up his water.

The three of them began shutting down Second Life Workshop for the night.

Machines were switched off. They checked the work areas, secured the finishing materials, and locked the old wooden doors Alexander had spent entirely too much money restoring, one after another.

For the first time, he understood why his professor had insisted that he decide how much he was willing to lose before he actually started losing it.

Alexander Vance had spent most of his adult life managing money.

He was only now beginning to understand what it felt like when every dollar at risk was his own.