Thirty million. The number was enormous and crushing.
“I’m not telling you this to burden you,” Arthur continued, his voice dripping with false concern. “But you need to understand the situation. The company is in crisis. And frankly, Theresa, we’re all worried aboutyou.”
“Worried about me,” I repeated.
“Of course.” He gestured vaguely, a movement that seemed to encompass my entire existence. “You have so much on your plate. Four little ones to care for, your own grief to process... The last thing you need is the pressure of saving a multi-million-dollar tech company.”
There it was—the assumption that I couldn’t handle both. That motherhood and leadership were mutually exclusive. That grief made me incompetent.
I took a slow sip of my tea, letting the cup steady my hand as I held back anger. “What exactly are you suggesting, Arthur?”
He smiled, a polished, sympathetic expression. “The board is considering bringing in experienced leadership to steady the ship. Someone with the industry connections to guide the company through this... difficult transition.”
Someone like him. The subtext hung in the air, thick and suffocating as the lilies.
“And what would my role be in this scenario?”
“You’d remain on the board, of course. Your input would be valued. You’d still have a significant voting share on major decisions.” His voice was patronizing. “But you’d be free from the day-to-day operations. Free to focus on your family, on healing. It’s what Marco would have wanted. For you to prioritize the children at such a tragic time.”
What Marco would have wanted.
The sheer, arrogant presumption of it—to use my husband,my kids, against me—sent a wave of fury through me.
I thought of Austin’s words:A shark in a suit.
I thought of Marco’s voice:Not aligned with our mission.
“And who,” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet, “is the board considering for this interim role?”
Arthur spread his hands in a gesture of false humility. “The board is not jumping into any rash decisions. But in the interim,until we can conduct a proper search, I have offered to step in. Just to maintain continuity, you understand. Keep things running smoothly.”
Of course you have.
“That’s very... selfless of you,” I said.
He didn’t catch the ice in my tone. Or perhaps he did and simply didn’t care. “We all must do our part, Theresa. Marco built something special. We owe it to him—and to all our stakeholders—to protect it.”
Our stakeholders.Notthe patients.Notthe people we’re trying to help.
I could see it playing out in Arthur’s head: him at the helm, making the decisions, cutting the fat, maximizing shareholder value. CarideoTech would become another generic medical device company, profitable and soulless.
“I appreciate your concern,” I said. “And the board’s.”
Arthur’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He thought I was capitulating.
“But I need time to think about this,” I continued. “To consider what’s best for the company. And for my family.”
“Of course, of course.” Arthur nodded vigorously. “Take all the time you need. The yearly general board meeting is not until May. We can formalize the transition then.”
Sixty days.
The timeline clicked into place. Arthur wasn’t asking for my permission. He was giving me notice. In his mind, this was already decided. The board meeting would be a formality, arubber stamp on his coronation, after running the company for two months.
“I see,” I mumbled.
Arthur stood, smoothing his suit jacket. “I know this is difficult, Theresa. But it’s for the best. Trust me.” He placed a hand on my arm. The gesture was probably meant to be comforting but felt instead like a claim of ownership. “You’ll see. In a few months, when you’re not drowning in quarterly reports and investor calls, you’ll be grateful.”
Drowning.Interesting word choice.
