"I told you, I too have loved and lost," Martin reminded him, a small grin touching his lips. "I have romance in my bones. Granted, it's a bit rusty after all this time, but I've still got some moves, and I know how the whole system works."
"Of course you do," Owen said. He turned his head quickly to look out the passenger window, a massive grin breaking across his face. Rosa had already relayed the details of what had unfolded in Linda's private office earlier that morning. She had caught a glimpse of the three of them in there with Linda, and, according to Rosa’s observation, there was a great deal of awkward tension and clumsy bumbling between Martin and Penny. He wondered briefly if now would be the right moment to ask his friend about the physical display, but he decided to leave the subject alone for the time being.
A sharp vibration rattled against his thigh as a text message popped up on his phone display. He retrieved the device, reviewing the lines on the dark glass.
"Who is it?" Martin asked.
"Maggie," Owen said, shaking his head at the screen. "She wants us to bring coffee to the waiting area."
"Ask her about George, and then we'll discuss the coffee," Martin told him, clicking his turn signal as they neared the bridge.
Owen typed out the query quickly.What's the news on George?
A second later, the screen blinked with her response.Are you bringing coffee?
"She's holding the information hostage to feed her coffee addiction," Owen muttered, his thumb flying across the keyboard.I can always call the hospital directly.
You can try, buddy,Maggie texted back, refusing to yield her leverage.I have a lot of influence here.
Owen let out a soft sigh, shaking his head.Fine, we'll stop on the way, he typed into the field.Now give me the news.
George is stable, but we still can't see him, Maggie told him, her subsequent message lighting up the screen.For the next forty-eight hours, there is a strict visitor ban in place.
So nothing changed then?Owen murmured, reading the text aloud to Martin.
Nope, Maggie answered via a final line of text.But he's going to be okay.She paused a beat before adding another row.See you soon. I need help with Michael and Anna. I think they have gone zombiefied.
It's a big shock,Owen typed back.
I know, that's why we need the entire family's support, Maggie told him.
Owen's heart warmed as he stared at the glowing screen, the lines of text blurring slightly. She had called him family. Not extended family, not an academic associate, but simply family. It felt as though the Hearts had quietly reached out, brought him in from the bitter cold, and made him truly one of their own. He smiled sadly, feeling the back of his eyes sting with a brief wave of tears while a thick lump lodged itself tight in his throat, a physical echo of the panic that had gripped him the moment Maggie had phoned him about the collapse.
You had better not die on me, old man,Owen told himself, his gaze tracking the green mangroves passing outside the window.You're closer to me than my own father, and I don't think I'm ready to lose you just yet.
"What was that?" Martin asked, straining his neck to hear the quiet murmur over the hum of the engine.
"Nothing," Owen fobbed it off, clearing his throat. "Just hoping that the powers that be will help us get George back home as soon as possible."
“I know.” Martin’s voice was barely a whisper and held the same heaviness that Owen’s did.
They fell into another stretch of quiet highway before Martin spoke up again.
"Have you ever considered that maybe George being in the hospital at this crucial time is almost a blessing in disguise?” He glanced at Owen. “Think about it. Every single thing that has led to this point wouldn't have happened if George hadn't had that bad fall."
Owen went quiet, contemplating the structural shifts on the board and how the hidden pieces were moving. He thought about the secret surveys, the unvarnished corporate truths finally coming to light, and the unexpected warmth waiting for him back at the basin.
"You may just be right." Owen agreed softly. “Fate really has a twisted way of interfering in people’s lives.”
LINDA
The automatic glass doors of the regional medical center parted with a soft hiss, releasing a sharp gust of chilled, sterile air that did nothing to cool the panic burning beneath Linda’s ribs. She rushed into the main lobby, her heels clicking rapidly against the polished terrazzo floor as she navigated toward the intensive care elevators. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her breastbone, driven by a volatile mixture of raw terror for her uncle and a suffocating layer of personal guilt.
She felt terrible about the clandestine meeting she had just come from at the Gulf Coast Grille. While her family had been enduring a living nightmare in the recovery wing, she had been tucked away in Pete’s private office, signing an ironclad, high-leverage contract with a gold pen in front of a senior attorney from Miami. She had legal and financial liabilities binding her to secrecy now, a hidden strategy she could not share with a single living soul. Her own family was wholly in the dark about the true nature of the corporate chessboard, and carrying that hidden weight while her uncle lay sedated in a hospital bed made her throat constrict with shame.
The elevator doors slid open on the intensive care floor, and Linda bolted down the quiet corridor. She spotted the family gathered in the waiting alcove outside the wide glass partition. Michael stood nearest the glass, his broad shoulders hunched forward as a visible wave of grief and guilt radiated off his rigid frame. Anna sat on one of the vinyl chairs, her face utterly ashen under the harsh fluorescent fixtures.
"What happened?" Linda asked, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she reached her brother's side. "What brought this on so fast?"
