Chapter 2 - The Shadows of the Boardroom
By noon, the pediatric intensive care unit of New York-Presbyterian had become the temporary headquarters of Clayton Harbor Group. Vivian Ross sat on a vinyl chair in the hallway, three laptops balanced on her knees, desperately managing the fallout of Edward's sudden disappearance.
The investor call had been a disaster. Rumors were already circulating on Wall Street that the CEO of Clayton Harbor Group had suffered a medical emergency or, worse, a psychological breakdown. The company's stock had dipped two percent by eleven a.m.
The door to Room 412 opened, and Edward walked out. He had changed into a pair of hospital scrubs provided by a resident, his expensive suit currently being laundered downstairs. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were sharp and focused.
"Status, Vivian," Edward said, taking a paper cup of black coffee she offered.
"The board is in an uproar, Edward," Vivian said, her voice low. "Your uncle, Richard Clayton, has already called an emergency executive session for three p.m. He's claiming your 'erratic behavior' is a liability to the upcoming Vanguard acquisition. He wants to appoint a temporary operations committee."
Edward let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "Richard has been waiting for me to trip for ten years. A couple of frozen kids on the doorstep is just the excuse he needs."
"How are they?" Vivian asked, looking through the glass partition into the room.
Inside, Maya was attached to a heated intravenous drip, a warming blanket wrapped around her small frame. Her color had returned, a faint pink hue touching her cheeks, though she was still sleeping deeply under sedation. Leo was in the adjacent bed, his feet wrapped in thick medical bandages, a tray of half-eaten chicken soup sitting on his bedside table. He was awake, his eyes fixed entirely on his sister.
"The girl’s core temperature is up to ninety-five," Edward said. "No permanent tissue damage from the frostbite, thank God. The boy is malnourished and dehydrated, but he’s a fighter. He hasn't closed his eyes since they put him in that bed."
Edward walked over to the glass, watching Leo. "Vivian, I want a full background check on these kids. Find out who their landlord was. Find out how two children can walk through Manhattan for three days without a single social service agency flagging them."
"Edward, with all due respect, the Vanguard acquisition is a four-billion-dollar deal," Vivian said hesitantly. "If you don't show up to the board meeting at three, Richard will have the votes to freeze your executive authority. You can't let a charity case ruin the firm."
Edward turned slowly to face her. The coldness in his eyes made Vivian step back.
"This isn't a charity case, Vivian," Edward said, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "Those children were sitting beneath my name. The brass letters on that building mean something. If the Clayton Harbor Group can own half the real estate in this city but can't keep a four-year-old girl from freezing to death on its own front steps, then the whole damn company is a failure."
Edward checked his watch. "I’ll be at the board meeting. But I’m bringing my terms. Call Marcus. Have him bring my backup suit from the office apartment."
Before Vivian could answer, the elevator doors at the end of the hall opened with a sharp ding. A tall, elegant woman stepped out, her high heels clicking loudly against the sterile tile. She wore a white cashmere coat and a diamond necklace that caught the harsh fluorescent lights.
It was Victoria Sterling, Edward’s fiancée and the daughter of one of the city's largest banking magnates.
"Edward," Victoria said, her face arranged in an expression of elegant concern that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank goodness you're okay. The rumors on the Street are insane. My father called me asking if you had been indicted."
Edward didn't move to hug her. "I’m fine, Victoria."
Victoria looked through the glass at the children, her nose wrinkling slightly. "The assistant said you brought... street children into the private car? Edward, really, the liability alone is terrifying. What if they had a disease? You have a public image to maintain. The Vanguard gala is tomorrow night."
Edward looked at his fiancée, seeing her clearly for perhaps the first time in their three-year engagement. He saw the calculation in her posture, the superficiality of her concern.
"They didn't have a disease, Victoria," Edward said smoothly. "They had hypothermia. Because nobody stopped to help them."
"Well, that’s what the city services are for," she said, dismissively waving her gloved hand. "Let the social workers handle it. You need to get to Clayton Tower. Your uncle is gathering proxies as we speak."
Edward walked back toward the room, his hand resting on the doorknob. "Go home, Victoria. I have a company to run, and after that, I have a family to protect."
May you like
"A family?" Victoria repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. "Edward, what are you talking about?"
Edward didn't answer. He slipped back into Room 412, letting the heavy door click shut behind him, leaving his fiancée standing in the sterile hallway with her diamonds and her confusion.
