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“Bullshit.” The profanity sounds strange in his cultured voice. “We both know how this works. You'll gut what's left, slap your logo on it, and everyone with the Carmichael name gets tossed aside.”
He's not wrong. That's exactly what the board approved. What I signed off on before I knew her. Before I fell so hard I can't think straight.
“The timeline isn't?—”
“I don't care about timelines.” He leans forward, desperation cracking his composure. “I care about my daughter. She's brilliant, Bennett. More talented than I ever was. She deserves better than being thrown away after you've taken what you need.”
Every word hits like a physical blow because he's right. Layla deserves everything. The world. A future that doesn't depend on my ability to fight a board of directors who see her as expendable.
“I'm aware of Layla's capabilities.” Understatement of the century. I'm aware of everything about her—how she takes her coffee, the spot behind her ear that makes her shiver, the way she whispers my name in her sleep.
“Then keep her,” Robert presses. “Let her run whatever part of your company takes over the medical devices. Let her stay with the team she loves.”
Caleb shifts beside me. Even he knows what Robert's asking is complicated. It would mean restructuring everything, fighting the board, creating new positions that don't exist.
“That's not how corporate structure works,” I say, hating every word. “I can't just?—”
“You're Bennett Mercer,” Robert interrupts, and there's a flash of the old fire in his voice. “You reshape companies for breakfast. Find a way.”
My jaw clenches so hard it hurts. He's asking me to perform miracles. To fight my own board for a woman who told me she loves me while I sat there like a statue.
“Is this your way of trying to get forgiveness for what you said to her?”
Pain crashes across his face like I've slapped him. “No.She shouldn't forgive me. What I said was...” He stops, swallows hard. “I was angry and I took it out on the one person who never gave up on me. That's on me. But it doesn't change the fact that I want what's best for her.”
“And you think you know what's best?” I can't keep the anger from my voice. “The man who called her a whore in front of her entire team?”
Robert flinches like I've hit him. Good. I hope it hurts.
“I know I lost any right to an opinion that day,” he says quietly. “But I also know my daughter. She won't just survive in any job. She needs purpose. Challenge. The ability to build something that matters.”
Every word cuts because he's right. Layla could excel anywhere, but excelling isn't the same as thriving. I've watched her with the medical device team—the way her whole being lights up when she talks about neural mapping, how she loses track of time working with Audrey in the lab.
“The board approved a specific plan,” I say, falling back on facts because feelings are too dangerous. “Positions are assigned based on need and efficiency.”
“Since when has Bennett Mercer been limited by board approval?” There's a ghost of the old Robert in that challenge—the inventor who built an empire from nothing. “You've restructured dozens of companies. Surely you can find a solution for one exceptional employee.”
One exceptional woman who whispers she loves me in the dark. Who's turned my perfectly ordered world upside down without even trying.
“Even if I could,” I say slowly, my mind already racing through possibilities, “it would raise questions. People would talk about special treatment.”
“Because you're in love with her.”
The words hit like a blow. And before I can stop myself, before I even realize I mean it, I say, ‘Yes.’
Robert's mouth falls open. Even Caleb's eyebrow twitches, though he wisely stays silent.
“I had a feeling,” Robert says finally. “The way you defended her...” He looks at his hands, then back at me. “And it's serious?”
She told me she loves me three nights ago and I've been drowning in it ever since. Drowning and terrified and completely lost.
“It is.”
Something shifts in Robert's expression. “Then you understand why I'm here. Why I need to know she'll be taken care of.”
“Layla doesn't need taking care of,” I say firmly, anger flaring again. “She needs opportunity. Challenge. Room to prove what she's capable of.”
“Exactly.” He leans forward again. “So give her that. Not charity. Not a token position. A real chance to show what the medical technology can become under her leadership.”