Clyde spent the past few days making phone calls, his voice steady even though frustration burned quietly beneath the surface. He contacted every name that mattered: influential figures, directors, and medical board members, arranging a dinner to repair the damage Dean had caused by skipping that important meeting.
By the time he arrived at the restaurant, the place was already filled with soft chatter and clinking glasses. Clyde put on his usual polite smile, though his temples throbbed from the noise. He greeted each guest personally, shaking hands, offering drinks, and apologising on Dean's behalf.
Clyde's charm did its job as always. He poured wine, raised toasts, and coaxed out a few smiles. Then he scheduled another appointment for the medical board before the night was over. Everything was handled, at least, on the surface.
