Chapter 4 - The Executive Order
My corporate training took over. When the world collapses into chaos, a soldier checks his weapon, and a CEO checks his assets. I stood up from the plastic chair, my face hardening into the expression that usually made rival executives sweat through their linen shirts.
"Marcus," I said into my phone, calling my personal attorney and fixer. "I need an immediate medical transport team at St. Jude’s Memorial, Ward 3. I want the private ambulance. I’m transferring a patient to the Harrison Memorial Wing at Northwestern University Hospital. I want the top oncologist in the state on standby. And Marcus? Hire a private security detail for a five-year-old child named Sophie Whitmore. They report to me by tonight."
"Michael?" Anna gasped, her monitor starting to beep rapidly from her sudden spike in blood pressure. "What are you doing? I can't afford—"
"You're a Harrison, Anna," I said, leaning over the bed and gently taking her hand. "Even if your mother chose a different name, my father’s blood runs in your veins. And that means you don't stay in a county ward for another second. The money that built my company belongs to your daughter too. From this moment on, you don't worry about bills. You don't worry about shelters. Your only job is to breathe."
Sophie walked back into the room, holding a half-colored picture of a unicorn. She looked between me and her mother, her little brow furrowing. "Mommy? Why are you crying? Did the nice man take the shoes back?"
"No, Sophie," I smiled, lifting her up onto my shoulder. She was so light—too light for a five-year-old. It made my chest ache with a furious desire to protect her. "We're just going to move your mommy to a nicer room. One with a big television and real food. And you and I are going to go on a little shopping trip."
Within forty-five minutes, my private medical team had arrived. The transfer was seamless. While Anna was being prepped for the specialized ambulance, I drove Sophie to the Drake Hotel, where I maintained a permanent, fully staffed luxury suite for out-of-town guests.
"Is this a castle?" Sophie whispered as the gold-uniformed doorman opened the glass doors for her. She was clutching her faded backpack like a shield, her new white sneakers clicking against the pristine marble floors of the lobby.
"It’s just a place to stay for a little while, Sophie," I said, guiding her toward the private elevator.
I called my assistant, Clara. "Clara, I need a team of children’s interior designers at the Drake Suite 14B by tomorrow morning. I want clothes—everything from winter coats to school uniforms, size five. I want toys, books, and a tutor specializing in early childhood development on retainer. And Clara? Cancel all my board meetings for the next two weeks. If the vice presidents have a question, tell them to read the annual report."
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"Sir?" Clara stammered. "You're canceling the acquisition meeting with Vanguard Holdings? That's a forty-million-dollar deal."
"Let them sell to someone else," I said, watching Sophie marvel at the crystal chandelier inside the elevator. "I have a more important merger to handle."
