Chapter 2
SULLIVAN
Istood at the front of the lecture hall behind a solid wooden lectern that had probably heard a hundred well-meaning speeches about compassion and teamwork. It was old and scuffed, like the hospital itself.
Saint Raphael’s had good bones. The people staring back at me, nurses, doctors, administrators, and techs, had better ones.
These were hardened medical workers, people who sure as fuck didn’t flinch easily, but they also didn’t trust men in tailored suits who marched in and told them things were about to change.
After my opening remarks, I let the silence stretch long enough to make them uncomfortable. They didn’t have to trust me, but they needed to know right off the bat that I was in control.
“Some of you probably already don’t like me,” I said calmly. “I came in out of nowhere and bought your hospital.”
A few heads lifted. Some jaws tightened. No one spoke. “Let me be perfectly clear about this, I don’t give a single fuck.”
A ripple moved through the room, shock and irritation sharpened by curiosity. There. Now I have your attention.
“Hate me or love me,” I said briskly. “It makes no difference how you feel. Just do your job and do it well. That’s all that matters.”
I scanned the crowd, distrustful stares meeting my gaze. People who dealt with life and death every day were never impressed by men like me, who sauntered in wearing polished shoes and had never touched a pair of scrubs. I respected that, even as I dismissed it.
Sentiment didn’t save lives. Vision did—and I had that in spades. They could only save all those lives they did because of people like me, who developed what they needed before they even knew they could have it.
“As you may know,” I said, folding my hands on the lectern. “Crowne Medical develops diagnostic and treatment technology on the bleeding edge. We’re light years ahead of our competitors. Don’t look so bent out of shape. That’s a good thing for you. You’re welcome.”
That part was fact, not arrogance. Our imaging systems saw what others missed. Our diagnostics identified disease earlier, faster, and cheaper. We didn’t follow standards, we rewrote them, and these people needed to understand that they would be on the forefront of that from now on.
“I’m not normally in the hospital business, but Saint Raphael’s presented an opportunity.
” I glanced up toward the ceiling, toward the fifth floor that had been closed for renovations for the last two years.
Dead space. Wasted potential. “I’ll be reopening your fifth floor and installing Crowne Medical technology throughout it. ”
Murmurs spread, but I ignored them. “Soon, patients at Saint Raphael’s will have access to advanced testing equipment not available anywhere else in the region. This hospital will be running clinical trials on technology still in development.”
I paused to let that sink in. “You’ll be able to help more people while we fine-tune our systems in a real-world setting.”
A few faces hardened further. Good. At least they understand what it means.
“We’ll be saving lives and showing the world what Crowne Medical technology can do when it’s placed in capable hands.”
I believed that completely. Progress required friction. Innovation demanded sacrifice. People liked to pretend otherwise, but every meaningful advance had left something else behind.
That was why I was here. Saint Raphael’s had heart. It had history. What it lacked was scale, precision, and the willingness to make hard choices for the greater good. That was where I came in.
“The fifth-floor renovations won’t disrupt current operations,” I said. “It’s been closed, so no one will need to adjust schedules or departments. That said, new positions will be opening. Anyone interested is welcome to apply.”
I made the concession openly and easily. People liked to hear they had options. “No one is losing their job.”
The reassurance eased the tension in the room exactly one second before I shattered any illusions they might be harboring. “That being said, there will be changes. Restructuring and the implementation of efficiency measures.”
A few people shifted in their seats. A nurse in the front row crossed her arms while the doctor behind her frowned openly. I looked him right in the eyes, wondering what he was so concerned about.
People who immediately assumed they would be affected were usually the ones who knew there was a reason why they would be. “As long as you can adjust, you’ll be just fine.” Adapt or don’t. The world doesn’t slow down for comfort.
“This research will save lives, but to make room for it, there will have to be cuts,” I said, giving them the clean, undiluted truth.
I scanned the room again, seeing fear, resistance, and uncertainty. A few sparks of interest, too—from the ambitious ones, those already thinking about what this could mean for their careers and their bank accounts.
Those were my people.
“You guys are good. I know that,” I said to those who weren’t already mentally packing up their workstations. “You’re dedicated and skilled.”
I believed that too. I wouldn’t have bought it otherwise. “But the hospital needs direction. Focus. The Crowne touch.”
I straightened, my hands gripping the edges of the lectern. “I didn’t come here to destroy what works. I came here to refine it, strengthen it, and make it matter on a larger scale.”
Halfway through the sentence, I saw a woman sitting near the back of the lecture hall. Her dark hair was pulled back like she’d been in too much of a hurry to make it neat, her sapphire blue gaze sharp and unamused.
Her arms were crossed over her chest, her shoulders squared and her posture screaming challenge. She wasn’t whispering to her neighbors or checking her phone. Instead, she was staring directly at me.
Glaring, actually. Like she wanted nothing more than to punch me right in the face.
The thought derailed me for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make me lose my place.
It would’ve been barely noticeable to people not trained to spot weakness, but my gut tightened in response.
I cleared my throat and adjusted my grip on the lectern, my gaze flicking back to her before I could stop myself.
Interestingly, she didn’t look away. Most people did. Some out of intimidation or because they’d already decided whether they were going to fall in line or fight me quietly from within, but not her. This girl held my stare like she accepted the challenge and had every intention of winning.
She was gorgeous in a way that irritated me immediately because it wasn’t polished. No effort had been wasted on trying to impress. Quite clearly, she was the kind of woman who didn’t care if a man approved of her, least of all one standing on a stage in a bespoke suit.
I stumbled over the next word, recovering instantly, but the damage was done. My focus had fractured, pulled away by an inexplicable awareness of her presence. She looked like she belonged here, competent and sharp, like she’d earned every inch of her authority.
And clearly, she hated me already.
“No questions,” I said crisply before anyone could even open their mouth. “You’ll receive further communication from your department heads in the days and weeks to come. Get back to work.”
Restrained applause scattered throughout the room as I stepped away from the lectern. I didn’t look back at her again, because if I did, I wasn’t entirely sure what they’d see on my face—or what I would see on hers.
Backstage, the door shut behind me, muting the noise starting up in the lecture room I’d just left. My sister was waiting, leaning against the wall with her mouth already twisted into that look she reserved for moments when she disapproved of my entire personality.
“Did you have to be so mean?” Liana asked.
I shrugged out of my jacket and loosened my cuffs. “Mean is subjective.”
“You told them you didn’t care if they hated you.”
“I don’t.”
She rolled her eyes. “You could at least pretend to be human.”
“No,” I said calmly. “You start strict and get friendlier over time. If you start friendly, they walk all over you. They needed to know who’s in charge.”
She snorted. “I’m glad you’re not my boss.”
I laughed. “I am very much your boss. You just don’t do anything I say.”
“That’s because I have a life and only a month left before my wedding.”
I frowned. “That’s not an excuse.”
“It absolutely is,” she said. “I’m busy. You have plenty of other accountants to count your stacks of money.”
“Yes, but you’re family and I trust you to look out for me.”
She softened, but just a little. “Good. I trust you to look out for me too.”
I nodded once, but it turned out that her sentence wasn’t quite finished yet. “Which means you’re going to help me find a new florist.”
“A new one.” I paused. “Yours backed out? Why?”
“Well, technically, she didn’t back out. I think she got arrested for selling more than flowers on the side.”
I stared at her, but she just shrugged and sent me a sweet smile. “Apparently, flower arrangements weren’t her only specialty.”
“Get your fiancé to help you,” I said flatly. “It’s his wedding too. Surely, he cares more than I do about the bringers of pollen and allergies at your ceremony.”
“He’s busy with work.”
I gave her a look. “I just took over a whole hospital. I’m busy too.”
“Busy with what?” She scoffed. “You have an army of people doing all this for you. All you do is talk and tell people what to do.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “That’s called being the boss. Someone has to captain the ship.”
“Aye aye, Captain.” She gave me a lazy salute. “I’ll give you a pass this time, but next time I need wedding help, you better not say no.”
“Fine,” I said. “Whatever. Next time. If your DJ gets arrested too, I might know someone.”
I glanced toward the door, my mind already shifting back to projections, timelines, and the changes I still needed to review. “I’ve got to get going. If you think they hate me now, just wait and see what happens next.”