Chapter 7 A call For Help

Ethan's Conference Room

Ethan sat confidently at the head of the polished oak table, his hands clasped as he listened to the animated discussions around him. The room was filled with his board members, each person absorbed in the anticipation of the potential collaboration with Château Velour, one of the most exclusive wine companies in the world. The energy in the room was palpable.

"This collaboration," one of the senior board members said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm, "would put Royal Reserve Wines in a league of its own. It's no secret Château Velour's reputation for excellence is unmatched. A partnership would elevate us globally!"

Ethan smirked, basking in the praise as several other members nodded in agreement. "Indeed," another added, "our CEO's foresight and diligence have brought us this far. To think we've captured the attention of Château Velour! Remarkable, Ethan. Truly."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the accolades. Clearing his throat, he said confidently, "I've been personally overseeing the collaboration application. In fact, their representative called me yesterday to confirm that our proposal has been well-received. We're already halfway through."

The table erupted in murmurs of approval and admiration. But amidst the chatter, one voice broke through like a cold wind.

"Excuse me," the woman said, her tone measured but pointed.

All heads turned toward Amelia Grant, one of the oldest and most experienced board members. She had been silent for most of the meeting, observing everyone with sharp, calculating eyes. Ethan's smile faltered slightly as she continued.

"With all due respect, Château Velour rarely accepts collaborations with companies that aren't natives to their country. On top of that, they have a strict requirement: 12 years of experience in brewing and distilling exotic wines. Royal Reserve Wines has only been in the business for 8 years. Are you certain you've thought this through, Ethan?"

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Ethan's jaw tightened. His pride pricked, he leaned forward, fixing Amelia with a cold stare. "Are you suggesting that I'm ignorant about the terms of this collaboration, Amelia?"

Amelia remained calm, folding her hands on the table. "Not ignorant, Ethan. I'm merely concerned about the future of this company. We should tread carefully."

Ethan relaxed slightly, leaning back in his chair. His lips curled into a sarcastic smile. "Ah, concern. That's rich coming from someone implying I'm putting this company at risk. The audacity."

Amelia raised a brow but said nothing.

From the far end of the table, **Jenna**, Ethan's secretary, finally spoke. Her soft voice cut through the tension like a whisper in a storm. "Perhaps we should focus on the brighter side of things rather than anticipating failure. Château Velour has already shown interest, hasn't it?"

Several board members exchanged puzzled glances, while Amelia scoffed.

"Miss Jenna," Amelia sneered, her eyes narrowing. "You're just a secretary. What could you possibly know about running a business? Perhaps you should leave the decision-making to those with actual stakes in the company."

Jenna smiled, unfazed by the insult. Resting her hand on Ethan's arm, she replied coolly, "Whether or not I hold an executive position is irrelevant. My priority is the company's success, just like everyone else's."

Ethan's eyes gleamed with amusement as he turned to the others. "On that note," he said smoothly, "I have an announcement. Effective immediately, Jenna is now a shareholder in Royal Reserve Wines. She'll hold 2% of the company's shares."

The room erupted in gasps of shock. Amelia's eyes widened in disbelief, while Jenna simply smiled, her fingers still resting lightly on Ethan's arm.

"Now," Ethan continued, turning back to Amelia, "let's get back to the topic at hand. The company will host a charity auction next week to celebrate our collaboration with Château Velour. It'll also serve to strengthen our ties with other wine industry giants."

"That's a reckless idea!" Amelia snapped, her frustration boiling over.

Ethan barely spared her a glance. "I wasn't asking for your opinion."

At that moment, his assistant leaned in to whisper in his ear. Ethan's face lit up with triumph. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "our application has officially passed the first stage of review. Any doubts you had can now be put to rest."

---

Outside St. Helena Memorial Hospital

Mia stood near the hospital's entrance, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Her mother's condition weighed heavily on her, and every second felt like an eternity. She clenched and unclenched her fists, her mind racing for solutions.

She stopped abruptly, reaching for her phone to dial Alexander's number, only to freeze. She realized with a sinking feeling that she didn't have it. The man she had assumed was Alexander turned out to be Ethan's driver, and she hadn't thought to ask for contact details.

Frustrated, she opened her purse absentmindedly to search for anything useful. As she rummaged through, a sleek black card slipped out and fluttered to the ground. She stared at it, blinking in disbelief.

It was Alexander's card.

Her fingers trembled as she picked it up, staring at the embossed gold letters. It was as though fate had decided to take pity on her. Without wasting another moment, she dialed the number.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. No answer.

Mia's heart sank, but she tried again. And again. On the fourth attempt, the call connected.

"What is it?" came Alexander's smooth, deep voice, sounding slightly irritated.

Mia's breath hitched. "It's... it's me. Mia."

There was a brief pause on the line before Alexander replied, his tone calmer than she expected. "Ah, Miss Mia. I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon. What can I do for you?"

Mia swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "I-I need your help."

Alexander's silence was deafening. When he finally spoke, his words were laced with amusement. "Help? How interesting. What kind of help, exactly?"

Mia felt her cheeks burn with shame, but her mother's life was on the line. She forced herself to speak. "My mother... she's in critical condition. She needs a heart transplant, and I-" Her voice cracked. "I can't afford it."

"And you thought of me," Alexander said slowly, his tone unreadable.

"Yes," Mia whispered, the word barely audible.

Alexander chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in it. "Tell me, Mia. Why should I help you?"

Her grip on the phone tightened as tears streamed down her face. "Because I have no one else to turn to," she choked out. "Please, Alexander. I'll do anything-anything you want. Just help me save her."

The line went silent for what felt like an eternity. Then, finally, Alexander said, "Anything, you say? Interesting. Very well, Miss Mia. I'll help you."

Mia's knees nearly buckled with relief. "Thank you-"

"On one condition," Alexander interrupted smoothly.

Mia froze, dread pooling in her stomach. "What condition?"

"You'll find out soon enough," he said, his tone dark and enigmatic. "But for now, consider your mother's heart taken care of. I'll have someone contact the hospital shortly."

Before Mia could respond, the call ended, leaving her staring at her phone in stunned silence.