Chapter 32
SULLIVAN
The fifth floor smelled like drywall and fresh paint. I stepped over a coil of electrical cable, ducking under a temporary plastic barrier while the echo of drills and nail guns bounced through the gutted hallway.
The space barely resembled the abandoned, outdated wing it had been a month ago. We’d stripped it down to steel framing, bare concrete, and exposed piping, the space now just waiting to become the flagship testing and imaging center Crowne Medical had promised.
I stopped beside a table with a blueprint pinned to it and I studied the layout again, tracing the future MRI suites, lab expansion, and AI diagnostics hub with the tip of my pen. This is the endgame.
Despite everything else that was going on, I had to keep reminding myself of that. Soon, this was going to become a state-of-the-art, advanced testing facility that would help so many people get the care they needed.
“Morning, Mr. Crowne,” one of the foremen called, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his glove. “We’re about two days ahead of schedule on the framing.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” I said, turning away from the plans to stride toward him. “Any delays with the supplies?”
He chuckled. “Nah. Your procurement team is terrifying. Stuff shows up here before we even know we need it.”
I smirked. “Good. That’s what I pay them for, to read minds.”
He laughed again and gestured toward a half-finished corridor. “Do you want to see where they’re installing the reinforced flooring?”
I nodded. “Lead the way.”
We walked past stacks of sheetrock and rolling tool carts. He tapped a concrete slab with his boot. “We had to reinforce this entire section. Those scanners weigh a hell of a lot more than what used to be up here.”
“Sure, but they’ll catch potential problems earlier,” I said. “Tumors. Micro-fractures. Vascular abnormalities. All those fun things the current equipment frequently misses.”
He whistled under his breath. “That sounds fancy.”
I shrugged. “Within the next few years, it won’t be fancy anymore at all. It’ll be the standard of care, because that’s what is necessary to save lives.”
He nodded. “I’m all for anything that saves lives, even if the installation has been a pain.”
Short-term pain. Long-term reward. That’s why I’d come up here, to remind myself of the goal we were working toward.
Earlier today, I’d sat in my office and read through the performance reviews I’d received from every department head. Names had been highlighted and their hours analyzed, efficiency charts stacked in cold, unforgiving columns.
Some of those highlighted names were people who were simply redundant. Others were under-performing. There were entire shifts that were bloated from years of sentimental scheduling instead of operational need.
A few people would be losing their jobs. Others would only be losing hours. Not that it would be any consolation to those affected, but this floor would eventually save thousands of lives.
At the same time, I’d never enjoyed firing people. The first time I’d done it years ago, I’d gone home and stared at the ceiling all night, convinced I’d ruined someone’s family, and to be honest, I probably had, but I’d done it because it had been necessary. And now?
The guilt didn’t claw the same way anymore. It still existed, but it was dull, just background noise against a great purpose being achieved by their loss.
God, maybe Bree is right and I really have become a cold-hearted monster. Or maybe that’s just the price of success.
“Mr. Crowne?” a voice called from behind me.
I turned to see three Crowne Medical technicians stepping carefully around a pallet of light fixtures. Two men and one woman who were all wearing visitor badges and the kind of cautious excitement people got when they knew they were walking into the future.
“Tell me you’re the team moving into molecular diagnostics,” I said.
The woman grinned. “Is it that obvious?”
I nodded. “You’re staring at the ventilation system like it’s Christmas, so yeah. It was a little bit obvious.”
One of the guys laughed. “We’ve been working out of a converted storage room for two years. This is a dream by comparison. We can’t wait.”
“Finally, the appropriate amount of understanding,” I said dryly, motioning for them to follow me toward the glass-partitioned area that only existed on paper and chalk markings for now. “Your lab stations will run along this wall. Contamination isolation is being built into each testing pod.”
The second technician whistled. “You’re giving us independent containment units?”
“I’m giving you the tools you need to catch things before they metastasize,” I said. “You’ll also have direct data integration with imaging downstairs.”
The woman folded her arms, studying the plans posted on the temporary wall. “This is honestly incredible. Expensive as hell, but incredible.”
“It’s not your money,” I said flatly.
They exchanged a look and she nodded sheepishly. “Fair point.”
I cleared my throat and gestured toward the far corner. “Your cryogenic storage units will go there. You’ll have triple-redundant power supply. Even if the entire city loses electricity, those samples stay viable.”
The woman’s expression warped into something that looked a lot like respect. “You’ve thought through everything.”
“I’ve thought through what happens when systems fail,” I corrected.
She nodded once, like she understood that answer meant more than I’d said. Bree’s face flickered through my mind uninvited. She would never look at me the same way this woman was looking at me right now. Not because she didn’t want the technology, but because she didn’t agree with the cost.
Part of me wished she would just get it, that once all of this was ready, all the discomfort the staff felt right now would vanish. Their patients would be receiving the kind of care few could even dream about right now.
I left the technicians behind to get the lay of the land and strode down the half-finished hallway that would eventually hold machines capable of catching cancers years earlier than ever before, and all I could do was hope that when the dust settled, Bree would still be standing on the other side.
The deeper we were getting into my plans for this place though, the more I was starting to doubt she would be. She cared about me. I knew that much. But we were new. Her relationship with this place was not.
I rode the elevator down from the fifth floor with a headache blooming behind my eyes. By the time I reached my temporary office, my brain had already started sorting through names, schedules, and numbers the way it always did when I had difficult decisions to make.
Those technicians had renewed my faith that this was the right thing to do.
I just wasn’t looking forward to what would happen when Bree found out.
Dropping into my chair at the conference table, I opened my laptop and the staffing spreadsheet stared back at me like an accusation. I started typing up notes anyway.
My pen tapped against the table as I cross-referenced department reports. I hated this part. Not enough to stop doing it but enough to wish it came with an instruction manual for how to gut livelihoods without feeling like a villain.
A soft knock sounded at the open door. I didn’t look up. “If this is about the budget projections, email—”
“Wow. Charming as ever.”
My head snapped up and I frowned when I saw Bree standing in the doorway. She was holding a paper bag and a coffee-cup carrier. Smiling, she watched me register the fact that it was her.
“You’re… here,” I said. Apparently, my vocabulary had collapsed.
She raised an eyebrow, giggling as she stepped inside. “And you’re observant.”
I leaned back slowly, studying her and wondering what the hell she was doing here. “I thought we were maintaining a strict distance in the workplace.”
“We are.” She sank into the chair across from me and pushed the bag toward me. “This is a mission of mercy.”
I eyed the bag. “Poison?”
“It’s a muffin.”
“That sounds like something someone who poisoned my muffin would say.”
“I’ll do something to your muffin if you keep it up.
” She rolled her eyes and kicked back in the chair, looking completely at ease about being here even though there was a chance she would be seen socializing with the big bad boss.
“I heard from three different nurses and one terrified intern that you’ve been stomping around the hospital like a poorly caffeinated general all day. ”
“I don’t stomp.”
“Fine. You don’t stomp. You power-stalk,” she corrected, pumping her eyebrows once. “Either way, I thought you could use a little something as a pick-me-up.”
I reached into the bag and pulled out a chocolate muffin. I stared at it, then at her. “How did you know?”
She shrugged, pretending to examine her nails, but I could see the smile she was trying to hide. “You always picked chocolate muffins at the breakfast buffet in the Bahamas.”
I blinked hard, genuinely surprised. “You remember my muffin preferences?”
“You remember I like my coffee with one sugar and too much cream,” she shot back. “Don’t act shocked.”
“I’m not shocked,” I said. “I’m impressed.”
I took a bite and groaned at the rich gooiness of the chocolate. Her mouth curved into a small, pleased smile.
“Where did you get this?” I asked once I’d swallowed. “I know this didn’t come from the cafeteria.”
“Worry not, Mr. Scrooge. The hospital cafeteria’s muffin budget is still razor thin.” She smiled a little to take the sting out of her words. “This one is from the good bakery two blocks over.”
“You left hospital grounds for baked goods? Walked two whole blocks? To get me a muffin because you heard I was stomping?”
“I wasn’t on the clock, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I shook my head and looked into her eyes. “You know that’s not what I was asking about.”
“Don’t make it weird,” she said quickly. “I was already going to grab a coffee.”
“Sure you were.” It was my turn to smile.
She tilted her head. “You’re saying I shouldn’t walk two blocks for a man I’m secretly dating?”
I choked slightly on the muffin. “You just said that out loud.”
She froze, then winced. “I said secretly.”
“It still counts.”
“Relax.” She smiled and leaned back in the chair again. “No one heard me except you, and you’re terrible at gossip.”
“Incorrect. I hoard information like a dragon hoard’s gold. It’s more that no one here would listen to me even if I shouted it from the rooftops.”
She laughed and I took a sip of the coffee she’d brought without asking my order. It was exactly how I liked it.
“You’re busy,” she said after a moment, nodding toward the laptop. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“I’m always busy, and no, you’re not.”
“You look like you’re planning world domination.”
“And you’re suspiciously calm about sitting in my office in broad daylight. You’re not worried about what would happen if anyone finds out you’re here?”
She shrugged. “I’m dipping a toe into reckless life choices.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Thrilling.”
“Don’t read into it,” she said. “If anyone asks, I was delivering baked goods to upper management to prevent workplace rage incidents.”
“That sounds medically responsible.”
“Exactly.”
We fell into an easy rhythm after that, her telling me about a patient who insisted his broken wrist was caused by gardening while I told her about a contractor who tried to expense a massage chair as ergonomic infrastructure.
She snorted. “Did you approve it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Wow. You really are a monster.”
“A cold-hearted one, apparently,” I agreed.
Her smile softened just slightly, but before she could say anything else, my phone buzzed sharply on the table, shattering the moment.
I glanced down and frowned. “It’s a message from Facilities.
They say it’s urgent. Will you excuse me for a minute?
I need to deal with this before someone sets the building on fire. ”
“Take your time,” she said lightly.
“Don’t eat my muffin,” I said.
She gasped in mock offense. “I brought that muffin all the way over here.”
I shook my head. “Technicalities. Okay, you can have a bite if you really want. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Her laughter followed me out into the hallway, and although I wondered if her showing up at my office meant she was slowly getting ready to admit publicly that we were together, I was already dialing the Facilities supervisor as the door clicked shut behind me.
Leaving Bree alone in the conference room the first time she’d actually come to see me at work wasn’t ideal. Seeing her in the middle of a random day was actually pretty awesome, but I wouldn’t be long. I just hoped she’d still be there by the time I got back.