Standing right outside the main conference room was Caleb. His face lacked its usual smug arrogance; he looked pale, his tie slightly loosened, his arms stiff at his sides. Next to him stood a tall, sharply dressed man in a charcoal suit, holding a leather briefcase.
“David,” Caleb said, his voice unusually thin. He took a step forward, but the man beside him held up a hand to stop him.
The man in the suit stepped forward and extended his hand toward me. “David Vance? My name is Arthur Vance—no relation, funny enough. I am the senior legal advisor and chief corporate officer for Vance Enterprises.”
The name hit me like a physical blow. Vance Enterprises was the parent conglomerate behind the massive development account we had been pitching to that morning. They were a titan in the industry, the kind of client that could make or break a firm for an entire decade.
“I don’t understand,” I stammered, looking between the lawyer and Caleb.
“Our Chairwoman, Eleanor Vance, was on her way to this very building for the eight-thirty presentation,” Arthur explained, his voice calm and authoritative. “She insists on driving herself to morning meetings. However, shortly before eight, she suffered a severe cardiac event on Oak Street.”
My heart stopped. The woman on the roadside. The simple coat, the silver hair, the absolute terror in her eyes as she collapsed against the concrete.
“She was rushed to the hospital,” Arthur continued, “and thanks to the quick action of the citizen who pulled over, performed initial chest compressions, and called emergency services immediately, the doctors were able to stabilize her. They told us that a delay of even five minutes would have been catastrophic.”
Arthur turned his gaze slowly toward Caleb, whose jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek….
