Chapter 44
Chapter 44:
Susan threw the front door open with an expression of carefully manufactured sorrow and pulled Cole into a tight embrace, ignoring his rigid posture.
The dining room was dimly lit. The table was set with Caleb’s favorite dishes — roasted lamb and garlic potatoes. The atmosphere was thick with cultivated grief.
Halfway through the meal, Richard set his wine glass down with a slow, heavy sigh.
“I hate to bring this up tonight of all nights, Cole,” Richard said, his voice cracking at precisely the right moment. “But the business — it’s failing. The economy has been unforgiving. We’re looking at bankruptcy by Friday.” He pressed a finger to the corner of his eye. “If Caleb were still here, he would know what to do. He always promised to look after us p>
On cue, Alycia lowered her head. A single, perfect tear rolled down her cheek and fell onto the back of her hand. Her shoulders began to tremble.
“It’s not your fault, Cole,” Alycia whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m just — I’m useless. I don’t deserve to be associated with the Compton name p>
Cole stared at her trembling shoulders.
Caleb’s pale face on his deathbed flashed through his mind. Take care of her, Cole. Promise me.
The guilt rose and broke over him like a wave, flooding out his logic and blinding him to the theater unfolding around the table. His chest tightened. He needed to fix this. He needed to buy back some measure of peace.
Cole reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew a sleek black business card. He slid it across the table to Richard.
𝘞𝖾 𝘶p𝘥a𝘵𝖾 𝘦𝘃𝗲𝗿y 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝘬 𝗼𝗻
“Have your CFO call the procurement department at Compton Medical first thing tomorrow morning,” Cole said, his voice low and hollow.
Richard stared at the card.
“I’m authorizing a special exception,” Cole continued. “Beasley Inc. will receive the exclusive medical device supply chain contract for the Asia-Pacific region for the coming year p>
Richard and Susan’s eyes widened in unison, identical expressions of barely restrained hunger crossing their faces.
That contract was worth thirty million dollars.
Beneath the table, hidden by the long linen cloth, Alycia’s mouth curved into a quiet smirk. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around Cole’s hand.
“Thank you, Cole,” she whispered, the picture of grateful devotion. “Caleb would be so proud of you p>
The following morning.
Cole stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his top-floor office in Compton Tower, staring down at the Manhattan skyline. The sky was gray and swollen with impending rain.
His executive assistant, Sterling, walked in and placed a thick manila folder on the obsidian desk.
“Sir, the Beasley contract,” Sterling said, his voice carrying a careful, deliberate hesitation.
Cole did not turn around. “Process it p>
“Sir, I have to advise against this,” Sterling pressed, taking a step forward. “Beasley Inc. does not meet our compliance standards. Their last batch of surgical equipment was operating at the margins of FDA approval. The liability exposure alone p>