Chapter 376: Chapter 375: Vision And Dreams

He leaned back, meeting Henry’s gaze squarely. "The truth is, common people don’t have that luxury. ? They’re working nine-to-five, sometimes two or three jobs just to survive in the city. They don’t have the luxury to sit around and daydream about some ’vision.’

Their only concern is paying the bills, putting food on the table, keeping a roof overhead, and somehow covering their loans and mortgages. If you don’t even know where your next meal is coming from, what good is a castle in the clouds?"

"For them, ambition doesn’t mean chasing some distant dream. It means getting through the month without collapsing under debt. You can’t tell someone working two jobs just to keep the lights on that they should be inspired by castles in the sky. They don’t care. They can’t afford to. If you don’t even know where your next meal is coming from, what good is a castle in the clouds?"

The table went quiet for a beat. A few Sterlings exchanged glances, clearly not used to someone speaking so bluntly in their presence.

Then Uncle Robert, the banker-type with silver cufflinks and the calm arrogance of someone used to running numbers that decided nations, spoke up. "But vision inspires even those at the bottom, doesn’t it? A factory worker might not be rich, but if he believes in the company’s mission, and believes he’s part of something greater, he’ll take pride in it and give more."

Rex smiled faintly, the argument was predictable, something he’d heard a hundred times in motivational seminars led by managers who had never once struggled to pay their bills.

"Sure. Pride’s great. But pride doesn’t pay bills. Try telling a man who’s three months behind on his mortgage that he should be inspired by the company’s long-term vision. See if his landlord accepts that as rent."

A few cousins chuckled under their breath, though Sylvia gave Leonard a warning glance to keep it civil.

He went on, "You can’t inspire someone who’s worried about feeding his kids. Stability first... then maybe vision."

Robert frowned, ready to counter, but another voice cut in. Charles, the consultant cousin, leaned forward with his usual smirk. "What about the exceptions, though? You can’t deny plenty of leaders come from nothing... rags to riches. Doesn’t that prove people can rise if they believe hard enough?"

Rex turned his gaze on him, steady. "By the time someone makes it that far, they’ve already stopped being ’common.’ They’ve crossed the threshold into privilege. The climb itself changes them. And once they’re sitting in boardrooms, their reality is no longer the same as the people cleaning those boardrooms after hours.

Their struggles become anecdotes for speeches, not realities they still live. Sure, their story looks inspiring, but you can’t hold them up as proof that everyone can do the same. Holding them up as proof that anyone can succeed is like pointing to a lottery winner and saying buying tickets is a solid investment strategy."

That landed hard. A silence, then a few quiet chuckles around the table... not mocking him, but recognizing the sharpness of the analogy.

From the other side of the table, Aunt Sylvia spoke, her tone measured. "Then what about hiring people from modest origins into leadership? Bringing them into management, giving them a seat at the table? Wouldn’t that keep them grounded? Give them a connection to the common workers you’re so worried about? Someone who remembers what it’s like to struggle might care more for the workers."

"In theory," Rex admitted, "that sounds great. But in practice? The people you hire at that scale — CEOs, executives — they’re rarely ordinary. They either come from privilege, or, if they started from nothing, by the time they reach the top, they’ve already spent years breathing rarefied air. Years of luxury dinners, private schools for their kids, corporate jets. They’re no longer ’common.’ They see the world differently."

He let the words hang for a moment before finishing. "And most of them... privileged or not — don’t care about long-term employee welfare. Their real goal is keeping investors happy. That means short-term wins, quarterly profits, and fat bonuses. Workers? They become numbers on a spreadsheet."

That hit a nerve. A cousin across the table muttered, "That’s a bit cynical, isn’t it? companies need to show returns. Without returns, there’s no company at all. Investors demand results. That’s not greed. That’s survival."

Rex turned his head slowly, unbothered. "And that’s exactly why companies lose loyalty. Because when you treat people as disposable tools instead of human beings, you bleed loyalty. You can squeeze short-term results, but you build long-term resentment. Workers stop caring, turnover spikes, morale dies. In the end, you pay for it anyway."

Vivienne, who had been quietly watching, spoke for the first time. Her voice was measured, thoughtful. "Then you’re saying ambition is... useless? That we should abandon it altogether?"

Rex shook his head. "Not useless. Just... misplaced. Ambition and vision matter when you’re not fighting for survival. They work at the management level, maybe even middle-class. People who already have stability can chase dreams. But if you’re asking a janitor making minimum wage to care about corporate goals? Forget it. He’s thinking about whether his paycheck covers his kid’s medicine. That’s reality."

For a moment, the table was quiet again. Not hostile — thoughtful. Testing his logic. Henry watched him the longest. That unreadable gaze, weighing not just Rex’s words but the conviction behind them, studying Rex like he’d just watched a rookie step into the ring and throw a clean punch. Finally, he gave a slow nod.

"You realize," Henry said, "most people either flatter us or keep their mouths shut. You’ve done neither. You’ve spoken bluntly, without hesitation. Dangerous, perhaps, but..." His eyes glinted. "Refreshing."

The tension eased. A few smiles crept back around the table. Not everyone agreed with Rex, but no one could deny he had spoken with clarity, without fear.

Rex lifted his glass casually. "What can I say? I’m not here to audition for a position. I don’t need to please anyone."

He gave a casual shrug in his mind ’ I’m not your lackey. I don’t need to please you. And I believe that if I’m given time, I can stand where you are... maybe even higher. So why would I waste my breath telling you what you want to hear?’

That earned him a few narrowed eyes, but also something rarer, quiet respect. They weren’t fully convinced, but they couldn’t deny that he had a point. And above all, they appreciated his honesty.

Then Henry chuckled ... a low, approving sound that carried weight. "You’ve thought more about leadership than most men twice your age."

Rex only smiled faintly, hiding the truth: I’ve seen more collapse than most men twice my age, too.

But the probing didn’t end there.

Another uncle leaned forward. "What about geopolitics? China in power, America slipping, Europe and other alliances banding together. Where do you think the balance tips?"

Rex internally groaned. Yep. Definitely an exam. But he answered anyway.

"The balance doesn’t tip," Rex said. "It shifts, back and forth. Everyone’s waiting for one empire to fall and another to rise, but that’s not the game anymore. Now it’s about networks. Whoever builds the strongest connections... trade, tech, culture, holds the real power. Guns and armies still matter, but influence spreads faster through ideas than borders."

The table murmured. Some skeptical, some impressed. Henry, as always, just watched. Weighing.

Vivienne finally spoke then, her voice cool, curious. "And what about people, Rex? Do you believe they change? Or do they stay the same, no matter how much the world shifts around them?"

Her gaze was sharp... sharper than the others. A test wrapped in a riddle.

Rex tilted his head, smirking slightly. "People don’t change. Circumstances change. A coward in peacetime can become a hero in war. A tyrant in power can act humble when thrown in chains. But the core? That stays the same. We’re just mirrors of the times we’re in."

Vivienne’s lips curved into the faintest smile, but she didn’t reply.

For Rex, that was enough. He’d sparred his way through politics, power, and philosophy. And somehow, he’d walked away without losing his footing.

...

From there, the questions became more scattershot, bouncing like a lively tennis match.

A younger cousin asked about the tech world, mentioning electric cars and renewable energy. Rex shrugged. "That’s the future, no matter what anyone says. You can’t fight the tide. People always cling to what’s comfortable, but the world doesn’t care about your comfort."

"Sounds almost fatalistic," the uncle remarked.

"Not fatalistic," Rex corrected. "Just realistic. Better to surf the wave than drown under it."

That drew nods again.

(End of Chapter)

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