Chapter 2 - The Breaking Point at Mendes CorpMorning broke over Boston in a wash of bruised gray clouds and heavy drizzle. Inside the executive boardroom of Mendes Tower, tension hung so thick it could be sliced with a scalpel.
Board members whispered among themselves, casting nervous glances toward the empty leather chair at the head of the mahogany table. On the wall-mounted screen, live feeds showed headlines from The Boston Chronicle:
"MENDES CORP PHILANTHROPY STUNT: REAL CONCERN OR DIRTY PR DAMAGE CONTROL?"
The double doors swung open. Gabriel walked in.
He wasn’t wearing his usual impenetrable aura of calm calculated efficiency. His suit was sharp, but his eyes were bloodshot. He hadn't slept a wink. Without a word, he pulled out his chair and sat down, ignoring the stack of crisis management dossiers piled in front of him.
"Mr. Mendes," Julian Vance, the senior board member, cleared his throat. "We have a PR nightmare on our hands. The media caught wind of your impromptu visit to Sunshine House yesterday. Worse, investigative reporters are digging into your college years at Harvard. They're trying to link your past to..." Julian paused, shuffling a paper. "...to a former student named Lucia Martinez."
The room went dead silent. Every eye locked onto Gabriel.
Gabriel’s jaw tightened. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "How do they know that name?"
"An anonymous tip was sent to the press desk this morning," Regina said from the corner, her expression pale. "Along with a marriage certificate inquiry from 2005. Sir, someone is trying to dig up dirt. If the press finds out you fathered a child out of wedlock and abandoned her while building this empire—"
"They won't," Gabriel interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy register.
"How can you be sure?" Julian scoffed. "You need to issue a statement denying any prior personal relationship with Lucia Martinez. Discredit the source. We buy off the reporter."
Gabriel stood up so abruptly that his heavy leather chair scraped violently against the polished hardwood floor. The sound echoed like a gunshot through the room.
"We are not buying anyone off," Gabriel said, staring down Julian with a look that made the older man shrink back. "And we are not issuing a denial."
"Have you lost your mind?" Julian shouted, slamming his hand on the table. "This company is public! Your reputation is Mendes Corp! If you sink, we all sink!"
"Then consider yourselves drowning," Gabriel snapped. "Because Sunshine House isn't a PR stunt anymore. Clara Martinez is my daughter."
Total, paralyzed silence blanketed the room. Regina dropped her pen; it clattered loudly against the table. Julian opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, unable to form a single syllable.
Gabriel didn't wait for them to recover. He buttoned his suit jacket, grabbed his briefcase, and walked toward the door.
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"Where are you going?" Regina called out, her voice cracking. "The press conference is in two hours!"
"Tell them I'm busy," Gabriel said without turning back. "I have a promise to keep."
