Chapter 23
OSCAR
"Mr. Glynn? Are you ready to go, sir?"
My driver’s voice snaps me back to reality. He’s parked next to me, holding the back door open. Meanwhile, I’ve been rooted to the ground, staring at the direction Alice walked away in.
It feels like my heart has exploded and I’m still trying to make some sense of it. The layoffs…
I’ve been betrayed. Jack and Halston went behind my back, those assholes.
"Change of plans," I say, sliding into the seat. "Take me to Glynn Enterprises headquarters. Now."
"Yes, sir."
As the car pulls away, I pull out my phone, scrolling frantically until I find Jack's number. He answers on the third ring.
"Oscar! How was your trip? We've been—"
"What the hell have you done?" My voice is low, dangerous — a tone my employees know means serious trouble.
There's a brief pause. "I assume you're referring to the Rooted Pantry restructuring?"
"Restructuring?" I laugh, but there's no warmth in it. "Is that what we're calling mass layoffs now?"
"Now, Oscar.” His tone is placating, which only infuriates me more. "This is standard procedure. We've done this with every acquisition—"
"I never authorized those layoffs," I cut him off. "I want you and Halston in my office in twenty minutes."
"We're actually in a meeting with—"
"Twenty. Minutes." I hang up before he can respond, then immediately dial Halston's number.
"Oscar," Halston's voice is smooth when he answers, like he was expecting my call. "Welcome back. I hope you enjoyed your little vacation."
His tone implies he knows exactly what kind of ‘vacation’ I was on, but I don't have time to care about office gossip.
"Twenty minutes, my office," I say. "And bring the paperwork for the Rooted Pantry layoffs."
"I'm afraid I have another commitment—"
"Cancel it."
"Oscar, I understand you're upset, but these decisions were made with the company's best interests in mind."
"Not by me, they weren't." My knuckles turn white as I grip the phone. "Twenty minutes, Halston. Don't make me come find you."
I hang up and stare out the window as Seattle speeds by, gray and miserable — a perfect match for my mood. All I can think about is the look on Alice's face before she walked away. The hurt, the betrayal. The absolute certainty that I had played her.
The car pulls up to my building, and I don't wait for the driver to open my door. I'm already striding through the lobby, employees scattering at the sight of my expression. Naomi jumps up from her desk as I approach.
"Good morning! You’re back early. I wasn't expecting—"
"I need the complete personnel records for Rooted Pantry," I interrupt. "Every termination notice that's been issued in the last week. And get Cole on the phone."
"Right away," she says, eyes wide as she reaches for her phone.
I enter my office and start pacing, already working out everything I’ll say to Halston, Jack, the board… and Alice.
Especially Alice.
Naomi appears in the doorway. "Cole is on line one, and I'm having HR send up the Rooted Pantry files."
"Thank you." I pick up the phone on my desk. "Cole."
"What happened?" he asks immediately. "I thought you two were—"
"Jack and Halston authorized layoffs at Rooted Pantry while I was gone. Half the staff, including Sydney."
"Shit," Cole breathes. "Alice?"
"Found out as soon as we landed. She thinks I planned it this way — kept her distracted in San Diego while I gutted her company." My voice breaks slightly, and I clear my throat. "She doesn’t even want to see me right now.”
"That's… unfortunate timing."
"You think?" I rub my temple, feeling a headache coming on. "I need you here when I meet with Jack and Halston. Which is…” I check my watch. “Now. I want the legal perspective on reversing these terminations."
"On my way," Cole says, and I can hear him already moving. "But Oscar… you never actually rejected their proposal."
The reminder stings because he's right. I never officially shot down the plan — I just kept putting off the decision, hoping for a better alternative. And my hesitation created the perfect opening for them to act.
"I know," I say quietly. "That's on me."
As I hang up, there's a knock at my door. Jack and Halston enter, looking far too composed for men who should feel at least a little bit of remorse. Instead, they look smug.
Halston is carrying a folder, which he sets on my desk. "The redundancy paperwork, as requested," he says, sliding into one of the chairs opposite my desk without waiting to be invited.
Jack follows suit, adjusting his tie. "Oscar, I know this is upsetting, but if you look at the numbers—"
"I don't give a damn about the numbers," I cut him off, remaining standing. "What I care about is that you two implemented major staffing changes without my authorization."
"With all due respect," Halston says, leaning forward, "you never rejected the proposal. You said you wanted time to review it, and we gave you that time. Nearly three weeks of it."
"Three weeks is not an approval!"
"Perhaps not explicitly," Jack concedes, "but you've never hesitated this long on similar restructuring plans before. We assumed your silence was tacit approval, especially since you were… unavailable."
There's something in his tone when he says "unavailable" that makes my blood boil.
"Choose your next words very carefully," I warn him, my voice deadly quiet.
Halston clears his throat. "What Jack means is that we proceeded based on precedent. Every acquisition we've made in the past five years has followed this exact playbook. Cut redundant staff, consolidate operations, boost short-term profits."
"Rooted Pantry is different," I insist.
"Because of your new girlfriend?" Jack asks, raising an eyebrow.
Before I can respond, Cole enters the room, nodding briefly to all present. "Gentlemen."
"Perfect timing," Halston says dryly. "We were just discussing the influence of personal relationships on business decisions."
"We were discussing," I say through gritted teeth, "your unauthorized actions that have jeopardized our newest acquisition."
"Jeopardized?" Jack scoffs. "We've improved it. The cuts will save nearly a million dollars in the first year alone."
"And cost us what in built-in knowledge? What in–”
"All those roles can be filled by our existing staff," Halston says dismissively.
"That's not the point!" I slam the folder down. "The point is that this was my decision to make, not yours."
"We would have consulted you," Jack says, "but you were… preoccupied with your romantic getaway."
"My personal life is none of your concern," I say, my voice dangerously low.
"But since you brought it up, let me make something crystal clear: my feelings for Alice have nothing to do with my objections to your actions.
You exceeded your authority, undermined my leadership, and potentially damaged a valuable acquisition. "
"Oscar," Halston says, his tone patronizing. “It’s not merely your decision. If you want to reverse it, you’ll have to consult the whole board.”
"And they will support our decision," Jack says confidently. "The numbers are too compelling to ignore."
"We'll see about that." I straighten up and press the intercom. "Naomi, call an emergency board meeting for four PM today."
"Yes, sir," her voice replies.
"You're overreacting," Halston says, though I notice a flicker of concern cross his face.
"No," I say, "I'm finally reacting. I should have shut this down the moment you proposed it. That's on me. But what you did — going behind my back — that's on you, and there will be consequences."
"Are you threatening us?" Jack asks incredulously.
"I'm informing you of the reality. You can go."
They exchange glances but stand to leave. At the door, Halston turns back.
"Oscar, I've always respected your business acumen. Don't throw it all away over a woman."
"Get out," I say quietly.
As the door closes behind them, Cole lets out a low whistle. "Well, that was intense."
"Did you see the termination notices?" I ask, pushing the folder toward him.
He scans the documents quickly. "Effective immediately, with two paychecks of severance pay. Standard language." He looks up at me. "It's going to be complicated to reverse this."
"I don't care." I begin pacing the room. "Find a way. Offer them their jobs back with bonuses if necessary."
"And if they've already accepted positions elsewhere?"
"Better offers." I run a hand through my hair in frustration. "Whatever it takes."
Cole heads out, and I try Alice, needing to explain everything to her before the distance between us widens even further. The call goes straight to a standard voicemail, though, so I try again.
Same result.
“Shit,” I mutter. What’s going on? Has she… blocked me?
I pivot, dialing Rooted Pantry's main number. The receptionist answers, and I ask to speak to Alice.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Glynn, but Ms. Mackie isn't available."
"It's urgent," I insist. "Please tell her it's about reversing the layoffs."
There's a pause, some muffled voices, and then: "I'm very sorry, sir, but Ms. Mackie has asked not to be disturbed. She's in a meeting."
“Thank you.” I hang up, frustration mounting. Fine. I’ll just need to do this in person.
Which is what I would rather do, anyway.
The drive to Rooted Pantry feels like it takes eons, even though it's only a few miles. I stride through the familiar lobby, nodding to the security guard as I make my way to Alice's office.
But she's not there. Her office is dark, the door closed.
I spot a light coming from another office down the hall and head toward it. Sydney is there, packing a box with personal items.
She looks up as I enter, her expression hardening. "Well, look who it is. The man himself."
"Sydney," I say, ignoring her tone – we can repair bridges later. "Where's Alice?"
"Why? So you can break her heart all over again?" She shoves a framed photo into the box with unnecessary force. "Haven't you done enough damage?"
"I didn't authorize those layoffs," I say. "I've just come from a board meeting where I got them suspended. Everyone's being offered their jobs back."
She pauses, surprise briefly crossing her face before the skepticism returns. "Too little, too late, don't you think?"
"I need to explain to Alice. Please, do you know where she is?"
She studies me for a long moment, as if weighing her options. Finally, she sighs.
"She doesn't want to see you, Oscar. She's made that pretty clear."
"I understand that, but if I could just explain—"
"No," she cuts me off firmly. "You need to respect her wishes. She handed in her resignation an hour ago."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?"
"Yep." She closes her box and seals it with tape. "She's done. With Rooted Pantry, with you, with all of it."
"She can't just leave," I say, though even as the words leave my mouth, I know how ridiculous they sound. Of course she can leave. And of course she did.
"Actually, she can. And she did." Sydney picks up her box. "And for what it's worth, I think it's for the best. I hear you; you didn’t authorize those layoffs, but it’s too much for her after everything you two have gone through.”
“Sydney,” I gasp, hating that she’s probably right.
“You've hurt her enough for one lifetime, don't you think?" she asks, though her voice is more sad than anything else.
I step aside to let her pass, but before she reaches the door, I call after her.
"Sydney, please. Tell her I never meant for any of this to happen."
She stops, turning to face me with a tired expression. "You know what your problem is, Oscar? Maybe you never mean for the bad things to happen, but somehow, they always do. At least where Alice is concerned."
Her words strike home with painful accuracy. I stand stock still, speechless, as she walks out, leaving me alone in the empty office.
I make my way back to Alice's office and try the door.
It's unlocked. Inside, everything looks normal at first glance, but as I move closer to her desk, I notice the personal touches are gone.
The framed photos, the small plant she kept on the corner, the stack of notebooks she always had within reach — all vanished.
All that remains are the company-owned items and a single envelope in the center of the desk.
I pick it up and see it’s addressed to the board. Her formal resignation letter, I presume.
Feeling like an intruder, I set it back down and leave the office, closing the door softly behind me. In the lobby, I hesitate, then approach the receptionist.
"Do you have a current address for Alice?" I ask.
The young woman looks uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Mr. Glynn, but Ms. Mackie left explicit instructions not to share her personal information with anyone from the company."
"I see." I pull out a business card and write ‘Please, let’s talk’ on the back of it. "If you speak to her, would you please give her this? Tell her… tell her I'm sorry, and I'd like to explain."
She takes the card reluctantly, and I have a sinking feeling it will never reach Alice.
Outside, the rain has stopped, but the sky remains overcast. I stand on the sidewalk, staring up at the building that houses the company Alice helped build — the company I bought, thinking it was just another smart acquisition.
I never imagined it would lead me back to her, or that I would lose her all over again in such a painfully similar way.
Walking to my car with the weight of the world on my shoulders, I slide behind the wheel and sit for a long moment without starting the engine. Everything was perfect just this morning. Alice in my arms, both of us happy, the future stretching bright before us.
Now it’s all gone, slipped through my fingers faster than I could blink. And perhaps it was never really mine to begin with.