Chapter Fourteen
GAbrIEL
Istayed in my chair for a few seconds after Charlotte left, the silence settling heavier than it should have. Maybe I’d made a mistake in trying to save John. Logic said to cut him loose because who needed his negativity? But loyalty ran deep regarding the people I’d managed at Juniper.
Maybe I was seeing too much of myself in him. He was going through a nasty divorce, and as someone who’d himself let personal shit bleed into his work, I could extend him another chance. I only hoped it didn’t burn me in the end.
A hangover had been lingering all morning, the kind that throbbed enough to remind me I wasn’t twenty-one anymore. At least my brother Leo was doing better, no doubt thanks to the obscene amounts of tequila the three of us brothers had drowned in over the weekend.
A Band-Aid solution, sure, but it had gotten him to talk, to laugh a little, and eventually concede he’d consider counseling for his PTSD. For Leo, it was progress.
For Dominic and me, it was a reminder of how we needed to make a point to do more together.
We were close as brothers went but not always present for each other.
One more regret about taking a year in London.
If Leo’s silent struggles had taught us anything, it was how fast things could unravel when you stopped paying attention.
I shoved back from my desk, straightened my tie, and was gearing up for my next meeting when the sound of Charlotte shouting spurred me to my feet. A tight, bright surge of adrenaline shot through me in the seconds it took me to dash outside of my door.
The scene hit me all at once: the copier, the toppled boxes of paper, George sprawled on the floor. And Charlotte kneeling beside him, already pressing rhythmic compressions onto his chest.
“Olivia, call 911,” she commanded.
Her head snapped toward me. “Gabriel, there’s an AED device at the reception desk. I need it.”
Before I could fully grasp the situation, I was in motion, sprinting down the hall. With her orders in my head, the understanding settled in that this was a life-or-death situation.
While passing Rhys, I quickly enlisted his help. “There’s a medical emergency. Go to the ground floor of the building and meet the paramedics. Bring them straight up to outside of my office.”
I bolted down the hall, flew down two flights of stairs, and skidded to a stop at the reception desk. “We’ve got an emergency on twenty-seven, and I need the defibrillator now.”
The receptionist’s eyes went wide. Her hands fumbled at first but then she scrambled, ducking behind the desk. “Um, yeah, God, it’s right here.”
She shoved the bright red case across the counter, her fingers trembling.
I grabbed it, the weight solid and heavy in my hands, my body humming with urgency.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I recalled a summer CPR class I’d taken in college when I’d thought lifeguarding was a good idea.
A lifetime ago. The details were fuzzy, at best. Hopefully, this machine had instructions plastered across it because, right now, George’s life depended on it.
“Call Sheila in HR,” I called out to the stunned receptionist, already pivoting toward the stairs again. “Tell her to contact George—” Fuck, I couldn’t recall his last name. “George, the facilities guy’s family. They’ll need to meet him at Sharp Memorial Hospital.”
I didn’t wait for her answer. My grip tightening on the handle, my adrenaline spiked as I charged back up the steps, praying I wouldn’t be too late.
Charlotte looked up mid-compression, her hands steady on George’s sternum while Olivia relayed information over speakerphone. “CPR is in progress, and the defibrillator just arrived.”
Chaos churned in my mind while blood pounded in my ears. Sheer panic gripped me at watching a man’s life slip away right here on the office floor. But Charlotte… Charlotte wasn’t panicked at all. She was calm, precise, moving like a professional who’d been trained for this situation.
“Can you let Sheila in HR—?”
“Already done. What happened?” My voice came out sharper than I intended.
She didn’t falter, her rhythm strong and confident. “I don’t know. I was walking by, and he appeared off. Then he grabbed his chest and collapsed. I tried to catch him.”
Impossible. George had a hundred pounds on her.
I dropped to my knees across from her. A crowd was starting to form. Bobby, the CIO, and a few others spilled into the hallway. I locked my gaze with Bobby, needing him to take the lead. “Take everyone into the conference room and keep the hall clear for the paramedics. We don’t need a show.”
They scattered, and I opened the defibrillator case. “Do you know how to use this?”
“Yes.” She leveled her gaze on me. “Do you know how to do compressions?”
“Yes, but…it’s been years.” I forced myself to study her hands and timing.
Her voice stayed steady, the sweat beading on her brow the only sign of strain. “Heel of your hand right here, between the nipples, other hand on top. Push hard and fast about two inches deep, about this speed. Don’t lean on him, let the chest recoil.”
I swallowed hard. “Got it.”
She paused long enough to tilt George’s head back and pinch his nose to give two breaths that filled his lungs. Afterward she snapped her gaze to me. “Your turn. Thirty compressions. Count them out loud.”
I positioned my hands where hers had been, locked my elbows, and started. “One, two, three…” His chest gave under me, harder than I expected, and every crack and shift made me flinch.
“Keep going, the important part is to keep the heart going even if it breaks a couple of ribs,” Charlotte ordered. Cool. Commanding.
At thirty I stopped, and she was already back down giving two more breaths before I resumed.
Please let him make it. Please don’t let this be the end of George’s life on the hallway floor.
The pit in my stomach grew with each compression as Charlotte quickly opened up the machine, turned on some knobs, and deftly got the sticky pads ready. After I counted out thirty, I stopped and waited for instruction.
“Rip open his shirt, so I can place these on. I need the chest bare to place the pads.”
I tore at the buttons, pulling the fabric wide as she pressed one pad high on George’s upper right chest, below the collarbone, and the other on his left side beneath the armpit.
A robotic voice from the device barked instructions, but she hardly seemed to need them as her hands moved with certainty.
Compressions resumed, and at the thirtieth, I paused, chest heaving, waiting for her call.
“Step back,” she instructed. “No one touch him.”
I scrambled clear, my heart hammering as the AED let out a sharp, mechanical beep.
“Analyzing heart rhythm,” the machine intoned. The sound of it was eerie in the near silence. The only other noise were the faint whispers of those watching from down the hall.
The voice spoke again. “Shock advised.”
Charlotte’s eyes flicked up to me, fierce and unflinching. “Clear!” she called out. She scanned the space before pressing the flashing orange button.
George’s body jolted, his torso arching off the floor.
“Resume compressions,” the machine ordered in its same cold, mechanical voice.
Charlotte positioned her hands and pressed hard and fast into his chest. Her cadence was steady, clinical, like she hadn’t already been doing this round after round. “One, two, three…”
I hovered at her side, feeling like every one minute was taking ten and hoping the paramedics arrived soon. “I’ll take the next set, and we’ll switch off.”
She nodded, her arms straining.
We fell into a routine. Charlotte delivering breaths, me hammering out compressions, then switching when her turn came again.
The AED’s voice guided us, telling us to give him another shock.
The world shrank to the cadence of push, breathe, switch, with our focus locked only on keeping George alive until help arrived.
Olivia’s voice cut through, shaky but loud as she clutched her phone. “The operator indicated the ambulance pulled up.”
Another cycle. Then another. My knees ached from the floor, my shirt clung damp to my back, but we kept moving in unison.
Finally, Rhys burst onto the scene, his face pale. “They’re here.”
I’d never been so relieved as when the two paramedics rushed in behind him.
“George is in his early sixties,” Charlotte supplied succinctly while they unpacked their gear.
“He grabbed his chest and collapsed after looking pale and as though he had trouble catching his breath. Sixteen rounds of CPR, two rounds with the defibrillator. I believe he’s a type two diabetic, but please confirm with his wife. ”
One of the paramedics dropped instantly and began taking vitals while the other unrolled tubing and an oxygen bag. The AED kept up its monotone commands, syncing with their work.
Within minutes, they had George intubated, an IV running, and the monitor showed a flicker of rhythm. Enough to lift him onto a stretcher, wires and tubes trailing, his chest rising with the mechanical pump of assisted breaths.
I leaned back against the wall, my lungs burning, my pulse still ragged as the chaos swept out with the paramedics.
And there was Charlotte, hair damp at her temples, but her face steady.
It wasn’t until she finally stood up that I noticed how pale she was.
“I… I need a moment,” she murmured, moving toward the ladies’ room.
The rest of us stayed rooted, still processing what had just unfolded.
Turning to Olivia, I asked, “Would you mind checking on Charlotte?”
Relief flashed across her face at being given a task. “Happy to.”
“I’m sure she will want to update the company’s owners herself before heading to the hospital. I’ll step into the conference room and give everyone some details.”
After my thirty-second update there, I walked back out, thinking I should check in with HR and keep moving with logistics. But something held me in place. I needed to know Charlotte was all right.
Minutes ticked by while I waited in the hall. Too many. Finally, Olivia emerged from the ladies’ room, her eyes wide.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“She says she’s fine,” Olivia whispered. “But… I’m not sure.”
“Is she alone in there?”
“Yes. Are you—?”
“Going in,” I cut her off. “Yes.”
I knocked lightly before pushing the door open when there was no answer.
She was at the sink, elbows braced on the marble countertop, head bowed into her hands. Her dark hair veiled her face, and her shoulders trembled just enough to betray her.
“Charlotte?” My voice was low, cautious.
“I’m fine,” she whispered without meeting my gaze. The words were brittle. But she repeated them. “I’m fine.”
This should’ve been my cue to step back, to remember she was my boss and not someone who wanted or needed me taking charge. But she wasn’t just my CEO in this moment. She was a woman who’d fought to keep another human alive, and the adrenaline crash was catching up with her.
She needed someone, whether she was ready to admit it or not.
I stepped back into the hall and found Olivia still hovering nearby. “I need you to gather Charlotte’s things and bring them in here,” I said quietly. “Clear her schedule for the rest of the day. I’m taking her home.”
Olivia blinked, startled. “Home-home?”
“Yes. She’s in no condition to stay here, and she doesn’t need an audience.
Meanwhile, I trust you to keep this between us.
” I held her gaze a moment, knowing she understood given her close relationship with her boss.
“I’ll check in with Bobby and Sheila, give them directions on what to do, and be back in five minutes for Charlotte. I’ll make sure she gets home.”
Olivia nodded quickly. “Of course. I’ll take care of it.”