10. Chapter Ten #2
Larry dismissed them with one turn of his hand. “Then Ophelia should consider them before she damages her marriage over hurt feelings.”
Gideon remembered calling her attachment emotional. He remembered offering another building as if Mara, Lucy, and every promise Ophelia had made could be packed into boxes and moved for Hale’s convenience.
“You sound like I did,” Gideon said.
Larry stared at him. “You say that as if it insults me.”
“It should.”
Kyle rose. “Have you lost your mind?”
“No. I finally heard what this family sounds like when it talks about women.”
“Careful,” Larry said.
Gideon looked at Kyle. “Effective now, you have no operational portfolio at Hale Global.”
Kyle’s face emptied. “You can’t do that.”
“I can. You keep the title the family insisted on, but you will not direct people who carry responsibility you refuse to carry. Every access point you don’t need for that reduced role will be revoked.”
“Because I gave you advice about your wife?” His brother was furious.
“Because you treat responsibility as something I will absorb for you. I won’t anymore.”
Kyle looked toward their father, waiting for the rescue that had always come.
Unfortunately for Kyle, he’d never been quite useful in the company, letting Gideon do his work as well.
And in the past few years, their father had noticed and started resenting it.
As upset as Larry was about Gideon’s marriage right now, he was also upset about Kyle drinking his life away and coming to Hale Tower as if he were on vacation.
Larry stepped closer. “You will leave his legacy executive access intact while this is reviewed,” he told Gideon.
“He doesn’t need executive access without executive work.
Which he hasn’t done in ages.” Gideon was going to stand his ground for once.
If they were threatening to take Threshold from Ophelia, then he would take something from one of them, and Kyle should’ve felt the consequences of his irresponsibility a long time ago.
“He is a Hale,” his father gritted out. “A shareholder, and your brother. Remove his daily authority if you must prove a point, but you will not lock him out while this family decides what comes next.”
The refusal reached Gideon’s tongue. So did the knowledge that he’d already moved Canal Works, challenged his father, and ordered Threshold released. Another fight waited behind this one, with a board Larry still influenced and a brother who would turn humiliation into chaos.
Gideon chose the smaller battle.
“Temporarily,” he said. “His legacy access stays. Everything tied to daily operations goes.”
Kyle’s shoulders loosened. Larry gave one short nod, as if Gideon had finally remembered who held authority.
The unease in Gideon’s stomach remained. Legacy access served no work Kyle currently owned. He’d closed most of the door and left a narrow opening because his father demanded it. He told himself it was enough for now. The excuse came too easily.
After Larry and Kyle left, Simone entered with her tablet held tightly against her chest. Gideon gave her the instruction about Kyle’s role and the access that would remain temporarily. Her expression changed at the last word, but she only said:
“I’ll have the daily permissions removed.”
“Thank you.”
She turned toward the door.
“Simone,” he called after her.
She stopped.
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
Her face went carefully blank. “For which part?”
“For allowing our professional relationship to become part of the harm I did to Ophelia. I rewarded you for giving up every hour I asked for. I brought that work into my home. Then I left you standing in the middle of a marriage I had damaged and let you carry blame that belonged to me.”
Simone lowered the tablet. “You didn’t force me to work late.”
“No. I made constant availability the price of succeeding beside me. That was unfair to you too.”
She watched him for a long moment. “I accept the apology. But I don’t want your guilt to turn into a smaller job.”
“It won’t.”
“I want clear boundaries and real authority. Not protection from difficult work.”
“You’ll have both. Work stays out of Astor Street. Late-night contact is for actual emergencies. Your time away from this office is yours. And your work will be judged on the work, not on how available you make yourself to me.”
“Good.” Her shoulders lowered a fraction. “Your marriage isn’t mine to manage.”
“It never should’ve been.”
“And Ophelia’s friendship isn’t yours to repair for me.”
“I know.”
Simone gave him a level look. “Do you?”
Gideon accepted the question instead of defending himself. “I’m learning.”
When Simone left, Gideon picked up his phone. Ophelia’s name sat near the top of his messages.
Gideon began with an apology. He deleted it. An apology at that moment could sound like a request for comfort. He wrote that the lawyers had started the process, then removed every detail Ophelia didn’t need. At last, he sent four sentences.
You were right. Threshold should never have depended on your remaining my wife. Your lawyer will receive terms from independent counsel. You don’t owe me an answer.
The message showed as delivered. No reply followed.
Gideon set the phone facedown and left it there. The silence hurt, but he didn’t turn the pain into another demand on her. If Ophelia used the freedom he gave her to leave him, the act would still be right.
For the first time, he’d protected her freedom more than his hope. And he’d protected her from his family.