Chapter 5 - The Daughter He Never Knew He Wanted
The boardroom fell silent when Beckett entered.
Fourteen executives sat around the table.
Three video screens displayed legal teams in London, Boston, and Zurich.
For eighteen months, Vale Therapeutics had pursued a merger with Arclight Biomed.
At 9:00 that morning, Beckett would have described the deal as the most important event of his year.
At 4:42 p.m., he could barely remember why.
His COO, Mason Reed, stood.
“Where the hell have you been?”
No one spoke to Beckett that way.
Normally.
Today he didn't care.
“Hospital.”
Mason's anger disappeared.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
Beckett removed his jacket.
“My daughter is in neonatal care.”
Silence.
Mason blinked.
“Your what?”
“My daughter.”
The word still felt impossible.
Yet saying it filled him with something fierce.
Mine.
Not ownership.
Belonging.
Connection.
Responsibility.
“When did you have a daughter?” Mason asked.
“Three weeks ago, apparently.”
No one knew what to say.
Beckett sat.
“Update me.”
The meeting resumed.
Arclight's CEO had threatened to terminate negotiations after Beckett disappeared.
Markets had reacted.
Analysts were speculating.
Vale shares had dropped nine percent.
Months of work were unraveling.
Ordinarily, Beckett would have attacked every problem simultaneously.
Instead, he kept seeing Celeste asleep in his arms.
Mason presented alternatives.
Beckett listened.
Then Arclight CEO Warren Shaw appeared on screen.
“This deal requires stability.”
“You'll have it.”
“You vanished during final negotiations.”
“I had an emergency.”
“Personal matters cannot interfere with a transaction of this magnitude.”
Something inside Beckett shifted.
Eight months earlier, he would have agreed.
He would have considered Shaw's statement obvious.
Now he heard something ugly in it.
“My three-week-old daughter is being tested for a heart condition.”
Shaw paused.
“I wasn't aware.”
“Neither was I until this morning.”
Several people looked down.
Shaw cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry to hear that. But our shareholders—”
“Are not more important than my child.”
Mason slowly sat back.
Everyone knew Beckett Vale.
They knew his priorities.
Or thought they did.
Shaw frowned.
“That's emotional.”
“Yes.”
It was perhaps the first time Beckett had ever used that word about himself without embarrassment.
“If the deal requires me to pretend my daughter doesn't exist, there is no deal.”
“Beckett,” his attorney warned.
He ignored him.
Shaw stared through the screen.
“Are you threatening to walk away?”
“No. I’m telling you exactly where I stand.”
“This transaction took eighteen months.”
“My daughter took three weeks to become more important than it.”
Silence.
Eventually, Shaw requested a private recess.
The screens went dark.
Mason stared at Beckett.
“Who are you?”
Beckett almost laughed.
“I don't know.”
“Is the baby okay?”
“We don't know yet.”
Mason's expression softened.
“Then why are you here?”
Beckett looked at the table.
Because Violet told him to go.
Because part of him still believed work could be controlled while family could not.
Because he was terrified.
“I needed to fix this.”
Mason shook his head.
“This can wait.”
Beckett looked at him.
Mason had worked with him for twelve years.
He had missed birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and one funeral because Beckett demanded his presence.
The hypocrisy burned.
“I’ve been a terrible boss.”
Mason laughed once.
“That's a larger conversation.”
Beckett stood.
“Handle Shaw.”
“Me?”
“You've wanted authority over negotiations for years.”
“Not like this.”
“Consider it professional development.”
“Beckett.”
He picked up his jacket.
“If Vale Therapeutics collapses because I spend one night beside my daughter, then I built a weaker company than I thought.”
He left.
Back at the hospital, Violet looked surprised when he returned at 6:11.
“You're back.”
“I said I would be.”
“How bad is it?”
“What?”
“The company.”
He shrugged.
She stared.
“You don't shrug about the company.”
“I do now, apparently.”
Celeste slept.
Beckett placed a bag on the chair.
Violet frowned.
“What is that?”
“Food.”
“You bought dinner?”
“I had my assistant research what women are supposed to eat after giving birth.”
Violet stared.
“Your assistant?”
“She sent me forty-seven options.”
A laugh escaped Violet.
“What did you choose?”
“I panicked and bought all of them.”
Inside the bag were soup, sandwiches, fruit, pasta, yogurt, and two desserts.
Violet laughed harder.
Beckett watched her.
He had missed that sound so much it physically hurt.
“Thank you.”
They ate quietly beside Celeste.
Later, Violet fell asleep in the chair.
Beckett covered her with his coat.
Then he sat beside the bassinet.
Midnight passed.
Then one.
Then two.
At 2:14 a.m., exactly three weeks after Celeste's birth, Beckett looked at the clock.
“Happy three weeks,” he whispered.
Celeste opened her eyes.
He placed one finger through the opening in the bassinet.
Her tiny hand closed around it.
Beckett stopped breathing.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For everything.”
He didn't know Violet had awakened.
She watched from the chair without moving.
Beckett leaned closer.
“I don't know how to be your father.”
Celeste held his finger.
“But if you give me time, I’ll learn.”
Violet closed her eyes as tears escaped.
She wanted to believe him.
That was the problem.
She still loved him enough to want desperately to believe him.
At 5:23 a.m., alarms suddenly sounded.
Celeste's monitor changed.
Beckett stood so fast the chair fell backward.
Nurses rushed in.
Violet woke screaming her daughter's name.
They were pushed into the hallway as doctors surrounded the bassinet.
And in those terrible minutes, Beckett Vale discovered something far worse than losing billions.
May you like
He discovered what it felt like to stand helplessly outside a room containing someone he already loved more than himself.
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