That afternoon, I stepped into the hallway outside Sophie’s hospital room and answered the board on speaker.
“The quarterly vote will proceed without me,” I said.
“Nicholas,” said Warren Bell, our lead independent director, “obviously this is a difficult personal matter, but the timing is delicate.”
“My wife and son are in the hospital.”
“Yes, and everyone sympathizes. But the market opens tomorrow.”
“Then let it open.”
A silence followed.
Warren cleared his throat. “Your mother has relationships critical to the private investor group.”
“My mother is under criminal investigation.”
“Allegations are not convictions.”
There it was.
The family creed in corporate language.
Appearances first.
Truth later, if convenient.
I looked through the glass wall at Sophie, asleep beside Julian.
“I’m taking leave,” I said.
“Nicholas, be rational.”
“I am.”
“You can’t simply walk away from a billion-dollar transaction.”
“I’m not walking away,” I said. “I’m choosing what survives.”
Then I ended the call.
When I turned, Sophie was awake.
She had heard me.
“You love that company,” she said.
“I love you more.”
