“Daniel?”
“Yeah?”
“I hope you find somewhere better.”
He smiled faintly.
“So do I.”
Then he left.
Victoria returned to her office.
She closed the door.
For twenty minutes she attempted to continue working.
She answered two emails.
Rejected a procurement request.
Joined half of a financial call.
She heard almost none of it.
Through the glass wall she could see Daniel’s empty desk.
The photograph was gone.
The old mug gone.
The two notebooks gone.
What remained was a clean monitor, keyboard, and the small indentation in the carpet where his chair had sat.
It irritated her.
Not emotionally, she told herself.
Operationally.
Daniel was important during disruptions.
Losing him on a Monday morning created unnecessary instability.
That was why she kept looking at the desk.
At 10:03, Marcus entered without knocking.
Victoria looked up.
“You usually knock.”
“Usually.”
He placed the Ellis file on her desk.
“What?”
“We need authorization for Riverbend.”
“I already declined it.”
“Yes.”
Marcus stayed standing.
“You should read page fourteen.”
Her expression cooled.
“Marcus.”
“Please.”
Something in his voice made her open the document.
Page fourteen.
Continuity and discharge assurance.
Victoria read.
Then reread.
Failure by Hayes Medical Logistics to complete an accepted medically necessary discharge delivery within the same service day, when approved network resources remained reasonably available, could trigger breach review.
The clause included penalties.
More importantly, repeated violations allowed Saint Catherine Health Network to reopen its preferred-vendor agreement.
That agreement was worth $18.4 million annually.
Victoria sat back.
“Why wasn’t this flagged?”
“It was coded wrong when the order transferred.”
“Daniel caught it.”
“Yes.”
She looked at the emergency courier price.
“Six hundred seventy-five dollars.”
“Yes.”
“And our contractual exposure?”
“Direct service penalty is modest.”
Marcus paused.
“The account exposure isn’t.”
Victoria closed her eyes for one second.
Daniel had been right.
Operationally.
Not merely morally.
“Authorize it.”
Marcus did not move.
“I already did.”
Her eyes opened.
“You what?”
“Under the emergency continuity exception.”
“That requires senior operations approval.”
“I’m senior operations.”
She stared.
Marcus continued.
“Daniel wrote the procedure three years ago.”
Of course he had.
Victoria leaned back.
“When will it arrive?”
“Before four.”
“Good.”
Marcus started toward the door.
“Marcus.”
He stopped.
“Did he know?”
“Know what?”
“The contract exposure.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he lead with that?”
“He tried.”
That hurt because it was true.
Victoria remembered cutting him off.
She looked at the file.