Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
A week had passed since Arthur Vance had sat in my living room and told me I couldn’t handle running the company I’d built. For seven days, that conversation had replayed in my mind, stoking a slow-burning rage that finally brought me back here.
The elevator doors slid open with a cheerful ding that felt wildly inappropriate.
I stepped into the sleek lobby of CarideoTech’s headquarters, my heels much too loud on the floor in the sudden hush that fell over the reception area.
Three pairs of eyes swiveled toward me, followed by awkward smiles.
“Mrs. Carideo! We didn’t know you were coming in today.” Sandra, our receptionist for the past five years, rushed around her desk. Her hand moved between a handshake and a hug before dropping uselessly to her side.
“Sandra,” I said, forcing a smile that felt like cracking glass. “I thought it was time.”
Sandra nodded too enthusiastically. “Of course, of course. Let me just...” Her fingers flew across her keyboard as she checked the executive calendar on her screen. “Mr. Vance is in a meeting, but I can send a message to his assistant that you’re here.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said, already moving toward the hallway. “I know my way around.”
The words came out sharper than I intended, and Sandra’s smile faltered. I could have apologized, could have been gentler. But gentleness felt beyond my capabilities lately.
I made my way down the corridor, keenly aware of the stares following me. Every face I passed wore the same expression of pity and discomfort, as if my grief might be contagious. I kept my gaze forward, my spine straight. Don’t let them see you break.
Our offices occupied the top two floors of a renovated warehouse in the heart of Silicon Valley.
Marco had insisted on the open floor plan, with glass-walled conference rooms and communal work areas designed to foster collaboration.
The space had always hummed with energy—engineers hunched over prototypes, marketing teams brainstorming campaigns, Marco moving through it all like electricity, lighting up every conversation he joined.
Now, the energy was different. Subdued.
“Theresa.”
I turned to find Ayaan Bakshi, our head of engineering, approaching with cautious steps. Ayaan had been with us almost from the beginning, one of Marco’s first hires from Stanford.
“It’s good to see you,” he said, and unlike the others, his eyes met mine directly. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m here,” I replied, which was the most honest answer I could give.
Ayaan nodded, understanding in his gaze. “We’ve missed you. Both of you.”
The simple acknowledgment—that Marco’s absence was a hole in the fabric of this place—nearly undid me. I swallowed hard.
“How are things?” I asked, gesturing vaguely at the office around us.
Ayaan glanced over his shoulder before answering in a low voice.
“Complicated. Arthur’s been making changes.
Nothing major yet, but...the direction feels different.
” He paused, then added, “The Ashley deal falling through didn’t help.
Arthur’s been using it as proof that we need what he calls ‘experienced leadership.’”
“I see,” I managed. “I’d like to hear more about the changes Arthur’s been making,” I said. “Maybe we could—”
“Theresa! What a delightful surprise!”
Perfect. Arthur Vance, the last person I wanted to see, had just materialized beside us, his smile far from reaching his eyes. He placed a hand on my elbow, as if I were a lost child he was guiding back to safety.
“I didn’t realize you were coming in today,” he said, with just the right note of concern. “You should have called. I would have cleared my schedule.”
“It was a last-minute decision,” I said, gently but firmly removing my arm from his grasp. “Ayaan was just catching me up.”
“Of course, of course.” Arthur’s smile tightened. “Ayaan, didn’t you have that call with the FDA consultant? We wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”
The dismissal was thinly veiled. Ayaan hesitated, looking between us. “Right. I should get to that. Theresa, maybe we could catch up later? My calendar’s open this afternoon.”
“I’d like that,” I said, ignoring Arthur’s slight frown.
After Ayaan left, Arthur turned to me with a paternal expression that made my skin crawl. “You really should have called ahead. I could have prepared everyone. Your arrival has caused quite a stir.”
“I didn’t realize I needed permission to visit the company I co-founded,” I said.
Anger flickered across Arthur’s face—there and gone in an instant.
“Of course not. I only meant that it might have been easier for you. The first day back is always difficult.” He gestured toward the executive wing.
“Why don’t we go to my office and talk? I can bring you up to speed on everything that’s happened. ”
His office. He wanted to handle me, to manage my return on his turf.
“No thank you, Arthur,” I said, keeping my voice level. “I’m going to my own office. I’ve a lot to do.”
Arthur’s smile stiffened. He’d expected me to still be the grieving widow from last week. He wasn’t ready for this version of me.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I turned and walked toward my office before he could respond.
My office was at the end of the executive wing, across from Marco’s. I hesitated before turning the handle, bracing myself.
Inside, everything was just as I’d left it a month ago right before Aspen.
The same organized desk with my trusted Mac.
The same potted fern in the corner. The same wall of whiteboards covered in my notes, mapping out product roadmaps and market analysis.
It was a snapshot from a life that no longer existed.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, letting the quiet envelop me.
Through the glass wall separating my office from the corridor, I could see people passing, sneaking glances.
I reached for the slender wand hanging beside the glass and, with a twist, snapped the integrated blinds shut, creating instant privacy.
A knock at the door quickly followed. “Come in.”
Lisa Stein, my executive assistant, appeared in the doorway with a sunny smile. “Theresa. I just heard you were here.” She hesitated. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”
“Coffee would be wonderful,” I said, suddenly realizing how much I’d missed her.
She nodded, still hovering in the doorway. “It’s really good to see you. Things haven’t been the same.”
The simple sincerity in her voice was a balm. “It’s good to see you too, Lisa. After coffee, could you block out an hour? I’d like to catch up on what I’ve missed.”
“Of course. I’ll be right back with coffee and my notes.”
After she left, I moved to the window, gazing out at the sprawling tech campus below. From here, I could see the bench where Marco and I used to eat lunch on sunny days, discussing product features and dreaming about the future. The memory rocked me, but I shrugged it off.
I had a plan. A fragile, half-formed plan born after Arthur’s visit, when rage had momentarily cut through my grief. Arthur wanted to run my company. He’d underestimated me. Everyone always did.
Lisa returned with coffee and a thick folder of notes.
For the next hour, she walked me through everything that had happened since Marco’s death.
The projects that had been quietly shelved.
The key personnel who’d been sidelined or reassigned.
The subtle shifts in messaging and strategy that added up to a fundamental change in direction.
“He’s smart about it,” Lisa said, her voice neutral. “Nothing dramatic enough to raise red flags. Just gradual course corrections that he frames as ‘business as usual’ during the transition.”
“But it adds up,” I said, skimming the notes.
“It adds up,” she confirmed.
A shark in a suit, I thought, remembering Austin’s words. Even my eight-year-old son had known what I’d dismissed. I needed to make a stand. A public appearance to show everyone I was far from being a hopeless, grieving widow.
“What about the BioInnovate Conference?” I asked suddenly. “It’s coming up soon, isn’t it?”
Lisa blinked at the change of subject. “In two weeks.” She paused. “Marco always loved that conference.”
“I know.” I set down my coffee cup, an idea crystallizing. “Pull everything we have on this year’s event. Attendee lists, speaking schedules, networking events. Who’s confirmed, who’s speaking, and which investors will be there.”
“Are you thinking of attending?” Lisa’s eyes widened.
“I’m thinking it might be exactly what I need.” I met her gaze. “Arthur wants the board to decide my fate in less than two months. I must show them I can still bring in the deals, still attract investors.”
Understanding dawned on Lisa’s expression. “BioInnovate would be the perfect venue. Everyone who matters in medical technology will be there.”
“Exactly.” I felt a satisfying spark. “Arthur thinks I’m going to crumble under pressure. He’s counting on it. But if I can secure even one major investment commitment at BioInnovate...”
“You will prove the company can survive without Marco,” Lisa finished. “And that you’re the one to lead it.”
“It’s a longshot making a deal in two months,” I admitted. “But it’s better than rolling over and letting Arthur take everything we built.”
Lisa was quiet for a moment, studying me. “You know he’s not going to make this easy. If you’re serious about fighting for this, he’ll fight back.”
“I know.”
“People will be watching to see if you can hold it together, if you’re really up to this.”
“I know that too.” I looked at the photo on my desk—Marco and me, triumphant. “But what choice do I have? Give up? Let Arthur dismantle everything we created?”
“No,” Lisa said firmly. “You fight.” She opened her folder, all business now. “Okay. BioInnovate is April 6-8 right here in San Jose. The early-bird registration deadline passed, but I can get you in.”
“Schedule meetings with investors we know. And find out if there are any new players in the medical device space—anyone looking to make a big move.”
“On it.” Lisa was already making notes. “What about Arthur? He’ll figure out what you’re doing.”
“Let him figure it out. I’m not hiding my intentions.” I straightened in my chair, starting to feel more like myself.
“I’ll have everything on your desk by tomorrow morning.” Lisa stood, then paused at the door. “Welcome back, Mrs. Carideo. I’ve missed you.”
After she left, I turned back to the window. Rage could be useful, I thought. Rage could keep me moving when grief would have paralyzed me.