Chapter 8 - A Family Matter
The heavy oak doors of the conference room clicked shut behind a pale, shaking Senator Vance, leaving Nora and Declan alone in the sprawling silence of the executive suite.
Nora exhaled a slow, steady breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her fingers gripping the edge of the mahogany table.
“You just tied a sitting U.S. senator directly to your offshore network,” she said quietly, looking up at him. “If he panics, he could bring down half the state government with him.”
“Richard won't panic,” Declan replied calmly, walking over to the sideboard to pour a glass of scotch. “Cowards don't panic; they calculate their survival. And right now, surviving means keeping his mouth shut and doing whatever Gallagher Enterprises tells him to do.”
He turned around, holding the crystal glass in his good hand, his dark eyes softening as he looked at her.
“You handled him effortlessly. Better than my previous chief of operations ever could.”
“Your previous chief of operations was found floating in Lake Michigan last November, Mr. Gallagher,” Nora reminded him dryly.
A faint, dry smirk touched Declan's lips.
“Precisely. Which is why he's no longer employed here.”
Before Nora could respond, her cell phone buzzed loudly against the polished wood of the table.
She pulled it out, expecting a routine notification from her bank or a work email. Instead, caller ID flashed the dreaded name: St. Jude’s Assisted Living - Administrative Office.
Her stomach plummeted.
She swiped answer immediately. “Hello? This is Nora Hayes.”
“Miss Hayes,” a strained, unfamiliar voice spoke through the speaker. “I'm calling from St. Jude's. We have an urgent situation regarding your mother's medical transfer this morning.”
Nora's breath caught. “What kind of situation? I was told her suite and care were fully paid for by Gallagher Enterprises.”
“They were, nominally,” the administrator replied hesitantly. “And the private transport brought her to Rush University Hospital an hour ago as requested. But... there's a complication with her primary care physician's authorization. Federal insurance guidelines require a direct family sign-off for specialized neurological transfers, or the hospital administration will freeze her room access.”
Nora gripped the phone so hard her knuckles turned white.
“I'll be there in twenty minutes,” she snapped, ending the call abruptly.
She turned toward the door, her professional armor instantly cracking under the weight of maternal panic.
“My mother—”
“I heard,” Declan interrupted, his voice cutting through her panic like a warm blanket.
He set his glass down on the table, walked over to the coat rack, and picked up his tailored charcoal jacket with his left arm, slipping it on with a wince.
“My car is waiting in the private garage. Let's go.”
May you like
Nora blinked, surprised by the immediate offer. “Declan, you don't have to—you were shot less than twelve hours ago—”
“I told you, Nora,” he said, his dark gaze locking onto hers with absolute finality as he stepped close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off his chest. “In my world, nobody touches what belongs to me. And your family is currently under my protection.”
