Andrew's POV
Mr. Garcia's message made my heart drop—especially knowing how crude the man can be.
Dropping my phone on the coffee table, I headed to the bathroom to shower, then changed into a crisp white shirt tucked into navy blue suit trousers.
I slung the matching jacket over my shoulder and looped my tie loosely around my neck, intending to fix it in the car.
Grabbing my laptop bag and a few important documents, I headed out.
I arrived nearly an hour late due to traffic. After adjusting my tie in the car mirror, I stepped out and walked into the building.
---
Mr. Garcia's Office
Andrew stepped out of the elevator and into the muted hum of the media floor. The usual chatter, phone calls, and clacking keyboards felt oddly distant today. Everyone seemed tense.
He barely had time to greet the receptionist before a junior producer passed him in the hallway, whispering, "Mr. Garcia's been asking for you since seven."
Andrew nodded tightly, adjusting his grip on his bag as he made his way to the executive wing.
He knocked twice, then pushed open the heavy glass door.
"Come in," came the deep voice inside.
Mr. Garcia was standing near the window—suit sharp as always, coffee in hand, staring out over the city skyline. He didn't turn when Andrew entered, but the tension in his shoulders was evident.
"Close the door."
Andrew obeyed, heart already climbing into his throat. Something was off.
Mr. Garcia finally turned, face unreadable. "You saw the news?"
Andrew nodded. "St. Grace's. I just… saw it this morning."
Garcia gave a grim hum, motioning for Andrew to sit. "Your father's still connected to that hospital, right?"
"Yeah," Andrew said slowly. "He has shares there. Why?"
Then he added, a little suspicious, "And how do you know?"
Garcia took a sip from his mug, then smirked.
"I have my ways, boy."
Andrew's brows drew together. "We've kept that connection low. Nobody's—"
"That won't matter if things get messy," Garcia cut in. "Which is why I want you to get ahead of this."
Andrew leaned forward. "You want me to speak to my father."
"Yes. Sooner than later. We already sent a proposal to his board about the Blackwood collaboration.
An exclusive interview with Kaius Blackwood isn't just rare—it's a career-defining deal. If your father can speed up the green light, the ripple effects could bury this hospital fire story within hours."
Andrew swallowed. "You're asking me to trade a family crisis for corporate leverage."
"I'm asking you to control the narrative. Before someone else does."
A long pause followed.
Outside, the sun was now fully up, casting light across Garcia's desk. The city moved on like nothing had happened. But for Andrew, the day felt anything but normal.
The stress must have really gotten to Mr. Garcia—even his pot belly looked like it had shrunk.
Andrew nodded, finally. "I'll call him." He kept his expression stoic, though a part of him wanted to laugh.
"Good," Garcia said, already turning back to the window. "And Andrew?"
He stopped at the door.
"Don't let personal feelings slow you down. We're playing on a bigger board now."
*******
Back to Andrew's POV
I stepped into one of the smaller conference rooms, closed the door, and leaned against the table. My hand hovered over my phone for a second before I tapped the contact: Dad.
It rang twice.
"Andrew," came the firm voice on the other end. No warmth. No surprise. Just business, as always.
"Good morning, dad."
"Though you haven't called in a while,You're late calling."
"I had to meet with Garcia first. Sorry sir."
A pause.
"I assume this is about St. Grace's."
Of course, he knew. He always did.
"Yes," I said. "And about the Blackwood collaboration. Garcia said the proposal went out already?"
"It did," my father replied. "I've reviewed it."
"And?" I asked, holding my breath longer than I meant to.
"I'm considering it. But this—" he sighed, "—hospital mess complicates things."
"Which is why Garcia wants it expedited. He thinks the Blackwood feature could drown the hospital story."
Another pause.
" You think that's possible? Would Mr. Blackwood want to collaborate with a company that might soon be dragged into media fire?"
"I think it's worth a shot. And I think we both know the press won't stay quiet for long—not with your name on the shareholder list."
"Careful how you speak to me, Andrew."
Silence.
I swallowed hard. "I'm just… thinking like a media strategist. Not just your son."
"That better be the only reason." His tone was cold steel.
More silence. I could hear the distant clink of glass—he was probably by the minibar in his office, not even halfway through his day.
"You still want me to move forward with this?" I asked, pushing past the tension. "Garcia's depending on it. And frankly, so is my standing at the company."
Another pause. Then finally:
"I'll authorize the board to approve the deal—under one condition."
"Which is?"
"You stay out of whatever investigation is coming. Keep your head down. No loyalty to the hospital, no distractions. If anyone asks, you know nothing."
I bit my tongue, jaw tight. "Understood."
"Good. You may be a Garcia boy now, but remember where your blood runs.
Remember to bring Penelope home for dinner next time. "
"I know. I will," I replied.
It was rare for him to ask us to visit, so I decided to play along, uncertain of what he was really planning.
The call ended.
I stared at the phone for a long second before sliding it back into my pocket. The silence in the room felt heavier than before.
Control the narrative. That's what Mr Garcia said.
But it felt like I was losing it—one conversation at a time.
*****
Leaving the conference room, I decided to walk to the break room. I badly needed a cup of coffee.
Taking a deep breath, I realized just how quickly things could spiral and somehow, I'd ended up right at the center of it all.