Chapter seventeen
Ben
From Tragedy to Triumph: Who is Antonia Cole?
The headline sits bold across my screen. Eamon’s email arrived minutes ago.Thought you should see this.
He might be retired, but still has one eye on all things hospital-related. His subject line had me worried before I’d even clicked the attachment.
Cole lost her only child, Mikey, to cancer at three years old. Her marriage shortly after. This unimaginable loss left her throwing herself into defending those who could not defend themselves. Mikey was denied treatment due to not meeting blood marker criteria on a clinical trial. That stipulation ended his life.
In the years that followed, Opengate Limited grew into a multi-million-pound powerhouse from a grieving mother’s mission.
As scrutiny mounts, critics are asking: has Antonia Cole blurred the line between advocacy and profit?
Has she lost her moral compass?
Is Opengate built on compassion or control?
I read it again.
Then once more.
There’s nothing incorrect in the article, but there is a whole load of assumptions. That’s the clever part. It’s the implication that poisons it. Every line questioning Antonia’s integrity. Her purpose behind Opengate. As if the loss of her child was a stepping stone to her career?and ultimately, her wealth?not the relentless hours spent chasing a cause she believed in.
It’s the time-old tale of someone doing well for themselves by helping others, then once they do ‘too’ well in others’ eyes, they become the enemy.
I return to the paragraph about her son. Mikey.
From the little time I’ve spent with Antonia, I know she keeps her professional and private lives separate. Before I accepted the funding for the retreat from Opengate, my research showed nothing regarding her son who passed. No marketing campaign. No funding ploy. Nothing.
No ‘why she does what she does’ interview.
Opengate was built from hard work, dedication, and learning to work the system. This article degrades all of it. They’re weaponizing her grief for a reaction.
My jaw tightens.
If someone wrote this about me. About the retreat. About Bex. If they suggested what I’m trying to build was some elaboratemonument to my own grief, that I was using personal loss as leverage to get what I wanted, I’d be furious. Devastated even.
Liam would read it.
Ollie would hear about it at school.
Grief is hard enough without it being dissected in the public eye. Without those who’ve never lived it, wading in with their opinions. The article isn’t questioning Antonia’s business model; it’s attacking her. Her son is becoming a fact to be proved. Her emotions defended.
And I’m furious on her behalf.
I imagine her reading this today with her morning coffee. Clara rushing around, trying to protect the woman who claims she doesn’t need protecting.
Antonia won’t react. But she’ll absorb it. There’s no way she couldn’t. Even a woman made of steel couldn’t stop the fracture from this.
Julian was right. As much as I hate to say it. We need to control the narrative. Or at least, provide our own.
The public knowing Opengate is quietly funding the retreat is not enough to save what the protesters are determined to destroy. Not when headlines like this circulate. Not when the mob grows with every podcast.
If this is going to be handled publicly, it needs to be done right. Grief will be dragged into the spotlight, whoever steps up. It may as well be mine.
And the retreat will potentially get good PR in the process. Win. Win.