Page 117 of Ten Day Affair

I don't say a word with my face or my words.

"Care to comment?"

I keep my expression neutral. Years of high-stakes negotiations taught me that much. "King's Holdings is a legitimate investment vehicle. Board service at GoodSamaritan was disclosed to all relevant parties. My board appointment had nothing to do with the fact that my company, Houston Enterprises, happens to own the shell company. We own hundreds of shell companies."

"Was it disclosed to Dr. Samantha Taylor?"

My chest tightens.

"I'm not sure I understand the question."

"You were romantically involved with Dr. Taylor while serving on the board, were you not? That seems like a significant conflict of interest."

What the fuck? She knows. Someone told her everything.

"Who's your source?"

"That's not how this works, Mr. Houston."

I take a sip of coffee, buying time. The liquid tastes like bitter ass. "What exactly do you want from me? Correlation doesn't mean causation. You’re connecting dots that don’t belong in the same picture."

"The truth. Were you involved with Dr. Taylor during the board vote? Did you use that relationship to gain insider information about hospital operations?"

Jesus Christ.She's painting this like I seduced Sam for corporate espionage. I want to scream, "ABSOLUTELY NOT," but I know getting emotional will only feed the fire.

"My personal life is exactly that—personal. Any relationship I may have had with Dr. Taylor was completely separate from my board responsibilities."

"But you voted to restructure the Taylor Wing anyway."

"I voted based on financial projections and operational necessity. The board presented the documents, and I voted accordingly."

She makes a note on her pad. "Sources tell me youwere seen leaving the hospital with Dr. Taylor multiple times. That you dined at her home."

"Ms. Harrelson, I'm curious about your angle here. Are you after the truth, or are you building a career on innuendo and gossip? I would have thought the Palm Beach Post would be more legitimate than trying to find a salacious story."

"I'm after accountability. A billionaire used a shell company to acquire hospital debt, served on the board that voted to gut community programs, and allegedly conducted an affair with the daughter of the family whose legacy he was dismantling. That's a lot of unconnected coincidences if you ask me."

The wordaffairhits like a slap. Whatever Sam and I had, it wasn't some calculated manipulation.

"You're conjuring a narrative that doesn't exist. It's juicy reading, I'm sure. But if you're after the truth, this isn't it."

"Then help me understand the truth. Were you romantically involved with Dr. Taylor, yes or no? It's a simple question."

I meet her eyes. "I have nothing to hide, Ms. Harrelson. My business practices are transparent. My board service followed all protocols. If you want to write a story, write it. But make sure you get your facts straight."

She closes her portfolio and stands. "I'll need your official statement within the week. After that, the story runs with or without your input."

TWENTY-SEVEN

Sam

The locker room at Grady hits me like a wall of disinfectant and exhaustion. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting everything in that sickly hospital glow that makes everyone look half-dead. It's barely six in the morning, and the place already feels like a war zone.

I'm dressed in scrubs, lesson learned from my first day when I showed up in street clothes and got looks like I'd forgotten pants. The navy blue feels foreign compared to the familiar green at Good Samaritan, but I'm trying to blend in.

Tracy Patel stands at the mirror, somehow managing to make her ponytail look like she stepped off a magazine cover despite being up since four. She catches my eye in the reflection.

"Morning, Dr. Taylor."