Page 113 of Ten Day Affair
Palm Beach Post
Then I see the sender.Laurel Harrelson.
My gut tightens. “Who the hell is Laurel Harrelson? A fucking reporter?”
Dorian doesn’t answer, so I keep reading. I drop my eyes to the bolded line at the top of the email.
Request for Statement – Houston Enterprises Acquisition
My jaw locks. I skim the bullets beneath.
We are preparing an investigative feature on the use of shell companies in Florida-based hospital acquisitions, including the recent Good Samaritan restructuring.
Sources allege potential conflicts of interest involving board members and private investors.
We would like to offer Houston Enterprises an opportunity to comment on these findings prior to publication.
I stop and drop the paper as my pulse pounds through me, thumping in my ears.
"Son of a bitch."
"Somehow this got out." Dorian drops into the chair across from me, his usual polished demeanor cracked around the edges.
"How?" I demand.
"I don't know. I thought you might. The reporter knows about King's Holdings. She knows you were on the board during the acquisition discussions."
I read the email a second time, heat rising up my neck. The walls of my corner office suddenly feel smaller, like they're pressing in from all sides. Not panic, yet, anyway, but it's close.
"I don't know shit. I didn't tell anyone, if that's what you're insinuating."
"Could be anyone. Hospital staff, board members, hell, even someone in accounting who processed the paperwork. Could it have been your neighbor?"
I set the email down and lean back in my chair, forcing my breathing to stay steady. Think, Cole. Think.
"It doesn't matter at this point. We shut it down. Fast. Send our legal team after them for harassment, invasion of privacy, whatever sticks."
Dorian shakes his head. "That's exactly what we can't do. The moment we go aggressive, we confirm guilt. Right now, this is just fishing. If we lawyer up hard, it becomes a story."
"So what's your brilliant alternative? Let them publish whatever the hell they want?"
"We give them nothing. No comment, no statement, no acknowledgment. Make them work for it."
I stand and walk to the window, my hands shoved deep in my pockets. The city spreads out below me.
"There's something else." Dorian's voice cuts through my thoughts.
"What?" I yell.
"The buyer for the hospital deal has gone quiet. Meridian Healthcare was supposed to send back redlines for terms, but their lawyers haven't returned our calls."
I turn back to face him. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that might not be a coincidence. Word gets out about potential fraud, and deals disappear. There is no innocent until proven guilty."
The pressure behind my eyes builds. Everything I’ve built, leveraged, manipulated, and calculated is hanging by threads I can’t see or control. And somewhere in Palm Beach, Sam’s probably getting ready for work, completely unaware that the next headline might have her name in it.
Her father cornered her once. If this gets out, the entire damn world will.
