Page 34 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
"We could begin the transition immediately," Halston says, clearly pleased that I haven't outright rejected the idea. "Complete the restructuring within sixty days. There might be some short-term disruption, but with the San Diego facility coming into play soon, it's the perfect time to realign the organization."
The waiter arrives with our main courses, and I'm grateful for the interruption. It gives me a moment to compose my thoughts, to consider the implications of what they're suggesting.
I think of Alice's face at the board meeting when I backed her vision for the San Diego facility. The surprise in her eyes, quickly followed by something that looked almost like hope. The two of us, we used to stay up late talking about how businesses should be run ethically, how people should always come before profit margins. When did I stop believing that?
"The financial case is strong," I finally say, cutting into my pasta without really seeing it. "But I'm concerned about the impact on morale and institutional knowledge. Alice has built that team from the ground up."
"With all due respect," Jack says in a tone that conveys very little respect, "we didn't acquire Rooted Pantry for its 'morale’.”
"Jack's right," Halston adds. "Look, I understand the desire to keep the peace, especially with someone as… passionate as Ms. Mackie. But this is business, Oscar. The kind of business you excel at."
There's a subtle challenge in his voice, as if he's questioning whether I've gone soft. And maybe I have, where Alice is concerned. But maybe that's not entirely a bad thing.
"I want to review the proposal more thoroughly," I say, buying time. "Consider all the angles."
Halston's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course. Take your time. But the sooner we implement these changes, the sooner we start realizing those savings."
"And the sooner we demonstrate to the other board members that this acquisition will yield the returns we promised," Jack adds pointedly.
The rest of lunch passes in a blur of polite conversation about market trends and the restaurant's wine list. By the time we're saying our goodbyes outside Omara, I've made my decision — or rather, my non-decision. I won't approve the cuts, but I won't reject them either. Not yet.
Back in my office, I sit with the proposal open on my laptop, staring at the list of positions slated for elimination. Fifteen people. Fifteen lives that would be upended by a decision I could make with a single email.
A year ago, I wouldn't have hesitated. Hell, six months ago, I would have already sent the approval and started planning the restructuring announcements. Efficiency. Streamlining. Maximizing shareholder value. These have been the guiding principles of my career.
But now, all I can think about is Alice's face when she learns that nearly half her team is being let go. The betrayal in her eyes. The confirmation of everything she's believed about me since the day I walked away from our startup.
From her.
I close the laptop and move to the window, watching the afternoon sun glint off the buildings below. The city continues its bustling pace, oblivious to my dilemma.
Would my parents still look at me with such pride if they knew the kind of decisions I make daily? Would they recognize the man their son has become?
Will Alice ever see me as anything other than the person who abandoned her and our shared dream?
My phone rings, and Naomi's voice comes through the intercom. "Oscar, Rooted Pantry is on line one. They need your approval on the manufacturing equipment order for San Diego."
I take a deep breath and pick up the phone. "This is Oscar."
"Mr. Glynn," a voice says — not Alice's. "This is Devon from Procurement. We need your signature on the equipment purchase for San Diego before the end of day."
"I'll be there in thirty minutes," I say, making a snap decision. "I'll sign it in person."
As I gather my things, I glance once more at the closed laptop containing Halston and Jack's proposal. I know I should approve it. It makes financial sense. Many people would do it without blinking.
But I'm not sure that's who I want to be anymore. Not if it means betraying Alice all over again. Not if it means becoming someone my parents — and my younger self — wouldn't recognize.
For now, the proposal will wait. I need to see her, to remind myself of what's really at stake here. Not just numbers on a spreadsheet, but trust. Possibility. A second chance I'm not sure I deserve, but desperately want.
A second chance that will vanish the moment I sign off on those cuts.
CHAPTER 14
ALICE
Istare at my phone screen, Rebecca Ho's name and number still sitting in my recent calls list from three days ago. What she offered me was amazing. The kind of opportunity that doesn't come knocking twice.
Yet after reading the official proposal, I had emailed her back and said no.
