Chapter 6 - The Empty Boardroom
By two o'clock that afternoon, the Crestline atrium was completely deserted.
The high-profile investors had dispersed. The press gallery had packed up their cameras. The multi-million-dollar product unveiling had been postponed indefinitely, replaced by an unsettling, hollow silence that echoed through the six stories of steel and glass.
Up on the seventh floor, inside the sprawling, soundproof executive boardroom overlooking the Chicago River, Vivian Mercer sat alone at the head of the massive mahogany table.
She hadn't gone to the hospital immediately; Chloe had insisted, through groggy tears, that her mother stay and handle the corporate disaster unfolding downstairs. Doctors at Northwestern Memorial had already run initial EKGs and echocardiograms, confirming what Evan had suspected: Chloe had an undiagnosed congenital conduction defect, entirely treatable with a minor pacemaker procedure, but one that could have easily proved fatal if CPR hadn't been initiated within ninety seconds.
Ninety seconds.
The exact amount of time it took Evan Carter to sprint across the lobby, vault up the stairs, and take control of a situation Vivian had initially handled with mockery.
The door to the boardroom clicked open.
Brooke Delaney stepped inside, carrying a thick manila folder and a cup of black coffee, which she placed quietly in front of her boss.
“How is Chloe?” Brooke asked softly.
“She’s resting,” Vivian said, her voice unusually flat, devoid of its customary sharp authority. She hadn't touched the coffee. She was staring down at her own manicured hands, remembering how cold Chloe’s fingers had felt on the marble floor. “The cardiologist said if Evan hadn't started chest compressions the exact second he did... she wouldn't have made it to the ambulance.”
Brooke nodded slowly. “Word is spreading through the executive tiers. The investors from New York... they’re talking about how the only person in this entire building who knew what to do when disaster struck was the employee health nurse.”
Vivian winced slightly, the memory of her own words— “A male nurse? Did you ever think about becoming a doctor?” —stinging like a physical brand.
She had spent her entire adult life believing that worth was measured by titles, degrees, and corporate hierarchy. She had looked down on a man who wore scrubs instead of a tailored suit, assuming his position in the corporate ecosystem was indicative of his intellect or capability.
And in return, that exact same man had saved her only child without a second thought for how she had treated him forty minutes prior.
“Where is Evan now?” Vivian asked abruptly, looking up.
“He’s downstairs in the employee health clinic,” Brooke replied. “Finishing his shift.”
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Vivian stood up from the mahogany table, smoothing down her skirt. Her face was set with a quiet, resolute determination.
“Get my coat, Brooke,” Vivian said. “We’re going downstairs.”
