The Day She Spilled Coffee on the Wrong Woman
The massive Boeing 787 touched down heavily at JFK after more than twelve hours from Frankfurt. I pulled my carry-on from the overhead compartment and stepped into the humid New York summer air, a smell that felt strangely like coming home. My name is Katherine Hayes, and I am thirty-two years old.
To the outside world, I am the woman who has it all: sole heiress of the late chairman of Apex Medical Group, holding a sixty percent controlling stake in one of the largest private hospital systems in the United States. But the world doesn’t see the crushing weight of that glittering title. This business trip to Germany had lasted exactly one month.
I had personally negotiated the acquisition of state-of-the-art medical equipment for our flagship hospital. This was a responsibility that should have fallen to my husband, Mark Thompson, the man currently occupying the CEO’s chair. But I knew his capabilities all too well.
Mark was handsome, charismatic, and a master of networking. But when it came to technical details or battling it out in negotiations, he was completely out of his depth. Out of love for my husband and a desire to solidify his position, I had agreed to step into the background as chief strategy officer while handling every major detail so he could shine.
A sleek black town car was waiting. I told the driver to drop me at the main entrance of Apex University Hospital. I wanted to see the hospital’s daily operations through the eyes of an ordinary visitor, not the polished versions presented in glossy boardroom reports.
The main lobby was teeming with people. I stood in a quiet corner, adjusting the lapels of my white pantsuit, planning to observe before heading up to Mark’s office to surprise him. But my eyes were frozen by a scene unfolding in the center of the lobby.
A tall man in white scrubs was kneeling on the cold marble floor—Dr. David Chen, head of cardiology, my old friend from medical school and the hospital’s most indispensable clinical asset. He was performing CPR on a middle-aged man who had just collapsed.
“Give him some space. Let the man breathe.”
David’s deep, authoritative voice echoed through the lobby. I stood there watching him in silence.
David hadn’t changed in fifteen years. He was the man who had spent his youth quietly looking out for me, a brilliant talent who never cared for fame or fortune. Watching the way he cradled the patient’s head, his focus so intense he was oblivious to the world around him, I felt a profound sense of admiration.
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