Page 99 of Yours to Keep

“I’m aware,” I repeated. “I don’t need the details right now. I just need the bottom line.”

She watched me like she was trying to determine whether I’d been replaced by a slightly more sleep-deprived clone. “You’re talking about a substantial reduction.”

“I have substantial income to reduce,” I replied. “Just do it. Please?”

She inhaled a deep breath and turned back toward her monitor, her fingers finally starting to move across the keyboard. “All right, let’s find out how much of a salary reduction you’d have to take to cover all the expenses.”

The numbers were uglier than I expected, but not catastrophic. Just ugly enough that Old Sullivan would’ve dismissed the entire exercise as financially irresponsible and moved on without a second thought.

Liana sat beside me at her desk, both of us staring at the final projection she’d built after nearly an hour of modeling and recalculating. “If you reduce your base compensation by this amount and restructure your bonus tiers to defer payout over a longer performance period, it offsets the staffing costs you want to preserve.”

I nodded slowly, absorbing it. “That’s fine.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, searching for hesitation. “You do realize this isn’t just a symbolic gesture. It’s a real financial shift. As well as a precedent that’s being set.”

“I know.”

“You’ve spent years structuring your compensation to reward aggressive growth.”

“I know and I’ve reaped those rewards.”

“This slows that down, Sullivan.” She was still staring at me like she didn’t quite believe I fully understood the implications of all this. “It’ll be a long time before you’re back on track. We’re not only talking a month or two.”

I nodded. “Growth doesn’t mean much if the foundation cracks. Based on what you’ve just told me, that’s exactly what will happen if we go through with the cuts as planned. Frankly, it’s exactly what Bree said, that the foundation will be gone if Emily leaves, and now you’re telling me it’s not just her.”

Liana didn’t respond immediately, but I caught the small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at her mouth. “Okay. If you’re committing to this, we need to coordinate with payroll, HR, and legal to restructure your contract. It’ll take a few signatures and some very confused executives.”

“Let them be confused.” I sighed and dropped my head back. “Right now, this is the only way to keep this place operational without slowing down the timeline on the fifth floor. If I have to be the one to take the knock, well, it won’t kill me to switch to a slightly cheaper scotch, now would it?”

She snorted softly. “You’re still a billionaire. I think you’ll survive.”

My sister started typing again, pulling up documentation and drafting adjustment memos while looping payroll into an internal message thread. We spent another half hour going through the logistics, redistributing and reallocating to make sure all the departments remained stable during the transition.

By the end of it, my name sat at the bottom of three preliminary authorization documents waiting for my digital signature. I signed them without hesitation, immediately handing the tablet back to her. “There you go. It’s done. I’m officially going to have to start buying one-ply toilet paper.”

She laughed. “You’re ridiculous. And you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” The truth was that I wasn’t really worried, though. She was right. I had more money than I could spend in a single lifetime. “Are we all good to send those off?”

Liana reviewed each form, then nodded once. “I’ll finalize everything with payroll and legal this afternoon.”

“There are a few other operational changes I want to implement,” I said, hesitating slightly.

She raised an eyebrow. “Financial or cultural?”

“Both,” I admitted. “Nothing is final yet, but I think it’ll help stabilize morale and improve communication. Maybe help to make this place run the way it should.”

She studied me again, her expression softer now. “You’re thinking about Bree.”

I didn’t bother denying it. “I think that I need to show her I’m serious about running this hospital better. That efficiency isn’t the only thing that matters and that I’m serious about doing what is best for the hospital as a whole, not just the fifth floor.”

Liana closed her laptop and turned toward me, folding her hands on the table. “You know this doesn’t automatically fix things with her.”

“I know.”

“She might still walk away.”

“I know,” I repeated.