26. Cole #2
The image makes my stomach twist. Not because I care what some reporter thinks, but because Sam would see it. She'd read every word, and she'd know the truth about what I really am.
"There's another option." Dorian's voice cuts through my thoughts.
"Okay, what?"
"You take a lower profile role. Step back from the public-facing side while this blows over. I can handle the Meridian negotiations, work the charm offensive."
"Absolutely not."
"Cole—"
"I said no. I'm not hiding from this journalist throwing noodles on a wall hoping for a Pulitzer."
But even as I say it, doubt creeps in. The deal collapse would cost me more than money. It would cost credibility. Trust. Everything I've built.
Not to mention, it is the only thing left to come from Palm Beach. I can't lose on both fronts.
Dorian studies my face. "What's your plan, then?"
That's a great question.
I chose Prima Café on East 54th. It's neutral territory, public enough to feel safe but quiet enough to hear if someone's bluffing.
She offered to fly to Manhattan to speak, so I took her up on it. In person is always better than on the phone .
She's already at the corner table when I arrive, reading something on her tablet. She's mid-thirties, blonde hair pulled back in that professional knot that says she means business. Sharp suit, no jewelry except small earrings.
She looks up when I approach.
"Ms. Harrelson?"
"Mr. Houston." She stands, extends her hand, and shakes mine with a firm grip. "Thank you for agreeing to meet."
I signal the waitress for coffee and settle into the chair across from her. "You said you had questions about Good Samaritan Hospital."
"Among other things."
She opens a leather portfolio and removes a stack of papers. Places them on the table between us like she's dealing cards.
The first document stops my breath. Board meeting minutes. July fifteenth. My name is highlighted in yellow next to the restructuring vote.
"Interesting reading. Especially when you cross-reference with these."
The second page shows King's Holdings LLC incorporation papers. My signature is at the bottom.
How the hell did she get these?
"I'm not sure what you think you've found, Ms. Harrelson."
"I think I've found a board member who voted to gut a nonprofit hospital while secretly owning the company buying its debt." She leans back, studying my face.
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 Good Samaritan 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 you were 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 word affair hits 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."