“As many of you know, GermTech Pharmaceuticals has been researching a cure for the Indian butterfly flu.” Researching was a mild word—they were hunting the strain of bacteria that was slowly killing hundreds of people, with the promise to take out thousands more should it spread to other continents. They were close . . . so close.
The reporters quieted down and shifted to the edges of their seats. They held their phones out, ready to record the words that would destroy Lucas’s legacy and broadcast them on the five o’clock news.
Lucas’s lips continued to read the speech prepared by his top-notch PR team as it streamed across the teleprompter. He may have been speaking about dissolving his management team and the steps they’d taken to ensure GermTechPharm would continue to provide high-quality medications for those with liver damage, diabetes, and many, many other conditions, but his mind was back at his sister’s bedside as she slipped away from this life.
Brianna’s cheeks bore the rash that had given the butterfly flu its misnomer. The red-and-purple splotches spread out from her nose and swooped into her hairline, mirror images, like the wings of a butterfly. Her sea-blue eyes were rimmed in red. Her lips were cracked and her throat constantly dry, which made every word spoken a chore.
Brianna had asked Lucas to take care of her husband, Tyler, and their three boys. She’d told him to keep them close and to not forget that he was loved. She must have known how easy it would be to lose that sense of belonging when she was gone, because he felt empty and alone in a world that was quickly turning against him.
Swallowing back the emotion building in his throat, Lucas wrapped up his speech. “I will be stepping down as head of GermTechPharm for the time being.”
The reporters gasped in unison, no doubt adding a great layer to their sound bite for the evening news.
He paused to take a much-needed breath, and the barracuda jumped in. “Mr. Scott, what do you have to say to consumers who have trusted your products for years?” Tossing her medium-length blond hair over her shoulder, the reporter bared her overly bleached teeth in a predatory smile.
“GermTechPharm has never sold a medication that has not been cleared by the FDA. In fact, we consistently go above and beyond the minimum requirements set forth in FDA guidelines,” replied Lucas.
The other reporters took her interruption as an open door to throw their questions in his face like buckets of salty water.
“Is it true that you were close to a breakthrough on the butterfly cure?” asked Rudy Carmolin. He was a decent fellow, the type that took a guy out for dinner and drinks instead of grilling him outside his front door first thing in the morning. Of course, in this situation, when reporters smelled blood in the water, niceties were set aside.
“The butterfly flu poses an interesting challenge, and we are always up for a challenge.”
“But you just said you dissolved your team.”
“Yes, the team that was working on a cure is no longer functioning.”
“Then who’s going to stop it?” Rudy pressed.
Let them find a new savior; I’m out. “There are several other companies working on a cure at the moment.”
“Are they close?” asked a man who had just graduated from his mom’s razor to a four-blade last week.
Normally, Lucas wouldn’t give this kid a second look, but the group waited for his answer. “I am not privy to their research and can’t answer that question.”
The barracuda had been silent for too long. Like her namesake, she’d hovered, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. “Mr. Scott, is it true your sister contracted the butterfly flu on her trip to India three months ago?”
“No further questions.” Lucas stepped away from the podium.
She wasn’t about to let him get away now. “And is it also true that she died because your team gave her an experimental drug?”
I don’t know.
Clamping his teeth shut, Lucas did the only thing he could think of: he turned his back on the microphone, on the screaming reporters, on the company he had built from the ground up, and walked away.
Once in the private hallway, Lucas yanked his tie over his head and threw it on the floor, where he proceeded to grind it into the carpet. His anger satiated for the moment, he glanced up to take a cup of ice water from his personal assistant, Juanita. Her coal-black eyes were full of concern. He’d told her he planned to step down just moments before the press conference. He’d asked her to stay on as his assistant, working from home if necessary to escape the pandemonium that was sure to follow his announcement. She’d agreed, much to his relief.
“Where will you go?” Juanita asked.
“Someplace where no one will find me.” Lucas hadn’t given it much thought. When his account lit up with Google alerts—all painting him as a mad scientist with a Superman complex—he realized that distancing himself from the company during this time would be better for the investors and for the overall image of his company. Running away, as some might term it, wasn’t his style, but his grieving and lonely heart wasn’t up for a fight. His sister had shown him true, unconditional love, and her passing left a hole he wasn’t sure could ever be filled.
“But the flu . . .” Juanita pointed down the hall to where his research lab was waiting for him to run yet another test on Butterfly241. Like so many others, Juanita looked at Lucas as if he could save the world.
With the investigation into Brianna’s death, Lucas had been placed on probation by the FDA and wasn’t allowed into his own lab. He wasn’t a hero. He couldn’t save his sister and he could barely take care of himself at the moment. He drained the cup in his hand. “It’s not my problem anymore.”
Dr. Lucas Scott handed Juanita the empty water cup and turned without another word. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing more to say.
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About the Author
Cami is a part-time author, part-time exercise consultant, part-time housekeeper, full-time wife, and overtime mother of four adorable boys. Sleep and relaxation are fond memories. She’s never been happier.
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Cozumel Escape (Destination Billionaire Romance) Page 14
