My fists unclench, the tension I didn’t even realize I was holding gone. He answered that like he belongs here. I don’t like how he steadies the room as I hide in my office. Part of me is impressed, while another is still furious this was arranged behind my back.
“Opengate doesn’t offer miracles either,” he continues. “They open doors that are closed to others. That’s what I need in a partner. Not someone who promises what they can’t deliver.”
There’s a knock at my door. Clara steps inside, then closes it behind her.
“He’s doing well,” she says, softly.
“So far…” I don’t commit. There’s still time for this to all crash down. When I heard the interview had a thirty-minute slot with the potential to extend to one hour if content allowed, sickness climbed my throat long enough to make me swallow hard.
I wanted to step in. Stop them. Not expose us to more negativity. But I gave them the rope, so I needed to allow them to tie the noose or the knot, whichever would result from this. I need to trust my people, Julian, to do the job I pay him for.
“So, your wife,” Charles says, changing subject in an obvious attempt to catch Ben off-guard. “Bex?”
“Yes, Bex was my wife.”
The past tense lands heavier than any headline.
“Look at his hand,” Clara hisses.
Ben sits back on the black leather chair. Hands draped over the armrests, his ring finger bare. The gold band sits on the opposite side.
“Maybe he’s always worn it like that,” I murmur, not convinced. I’ve been clocking his ring for weeks, musing overwhether he’d ever remove it. Again, it was a habit I wasn’t enjoying but couldn’t seem to stop—like thinking about him.
Clara leans in, and pinches my screen, zooming in on his now bare hand; a pale indentation sits where the ring once did—recently. My throat tightens. That’s not PR. That’s personal. His choice. I wonder why now. He didn’t do it for the cameras; that’s not how he operates.
“No,” she whispers, not that anyone else can hear us. “That’s new.”
Charles continues to press Ben for more details on Bex and her battle. He deflects each one, always circling back to the retreat, the services it will offer, and how that can benefit future families. He talks about his experience as an oncologist, and how he can view this from a widower’s and a professional’s perspective.
Every point lands true. There’s a difference in understanding from both sides. I know too.
“And your children?” Charles says. “They’re all on board with the retreat. You must be busy juggling all things as a single father.”
For the first time, Ben appears slightly unsettled. His gaze moves to the camera, and I notice a tension in his jaw that wasn’t there before. His kids are his weak spot. My son is my own.
“My children aren’t up for discussion,” he replies, smooth but certain. “Opengate, myself, my career, I’ll talk about. But not my kids. Their lives are theirs to tell.”
He could have used them. He didn’t. Ben drew a line he wasn’t willing to cross. I respect that. Maintaining my own privacy has always been paramount; it unsettles me how alike we are in our morals. From the little I’ve learned of him in our time working together, they align.
“Antonia Cole,” Charles says. My confidence wobbles. “Is she really as ruthless as the rumors say?”
Ben chuckles, his eyes rolling almost cartoonishly. It’s a stark contrast to the man drawing a boundary moments ago.
“Do you believe everything you read?” Ben asks. Charles smirks, the pair squaring off as if to fight. “You’ve interviewed some of the most successful men in the world. Would you ask their business partners the same question?”
“It’s a legitimate question, Doctor,” he pushes back.
“Antonia is a shrewd businesswoman. She’s successful because of her intelligence. And many patients and staff have benefited from her tenacity.”
My cheeks warm with the compliment. Clara glances over. Her lips purse as if hiding a smile, then her eyes return to the screen.
Charles sits back then, the fight leaving him. For the first time since the interview started, it’s as if he stops looking for an angle and actually listens to what he’s being told. He doesn’t interrupt. He lets Ben speak. It feels like a win.
Ben has the same ability to control a room as I do, even with the most difficult opponent. It’s uplifting to know he’s not only on my side, but able to pick up a sword too.
“Opengate wouldn’t exist without Antonia Cole. Pharmaceutical companies wouldn’t be held accountable without Opengate.” Ben holds the other man’s stare, professional but stern. “Opengate has opened treatment pathways for my own patients before we worked together. I trust Antonia and her team to know the conditions and do what’s right.”
My cell, that’s been sitting silent on my desk, lights up. Notifications pop up on the screen one after another, showing Julian’s name over and over again. Clara moves to lift it. I shake my head. I want to watch this to the end.