Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Shift
The executive suite on the top floor of Ashcom Regional Health Network’s headquarters offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, glittering beneath a cold November dusk.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, holding a cup of black coffee, watching the distant headlights crawl along the highway below. Grandma Rose was seated comfortably in one of the leather armchairs near the fireplace, sipping chamomile tea and examining a framed photograph of our corporate expansion map on the wall.
“You handled that with remarkable restraint, Ellie,” Grandma murmured, her sharp eyes twinkling in the firelight. “I honestly thought you were going to tip the gravy boat right into Arthur’s lap when he slid that fifty-dollar bill across the table.”
I smiled faintly, turning away from the glass. “Tipping gravy is messy, Grandma. Corporate restructuring is much cleaner.”
“Indeed it is,” she chuckled softly. “Though I suspect your parents are currently tearing their hair out wondering how the girl they thought pushed a mop ended up owning the building their mortgages live in.”
Before I could reply, the heavy mahogany double doors of my office swung open without a knock.
My executive assistant, Marcus, stepped inside, looking slightly flustered, holding a sleek tablet device.
“Excuse me, Ms. Hopkins,” Marcus said quickly. “I apologize for interrupting your evening, but you have an urgent visitor in the executive lobby. Refuses to leave. Security called upstairs twice.”
I raised an eyebrow, walking back toward my desk. “Who is it, Marcus?”
“It’s Dr. Naomi Hopkins-Miller,” Marcus replied, clearing his throat. “She’s demanding an immediate private consultation with the COO. She claims her hospital credentials and family status give her priority access.”
Grandma Rose let out a dry, amused cough, settling deeper into her chair. “Ah. The cardiothoracic prodigy arrives. It took them nearly four hours to drive across the county. Impressive turnaround time.”
I looked at Marcus, my expression entirely neutral. “Did you inform her that the executive offices are closed to walk-in traffic, especially for non-emergency personnel?”
“I did, ma’am,” Marcus nodded, adjusting his glasses. “She started crying in the lobby. Said her husband’s career is tied up in the same Gateway Trust debt portfolio, and she’s terrified her department budget at Meridian General is going to be frozen in the upcoming quarterly audit.”
May you like
I tapped my pen against the polished walnut surface of my desk.
“Send her up,” I said quietly. “Let’s see what happens when a surgeon has to operate without a safety net.”
