The Chef
Copyright© 2025 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 23: Life Changing Events
The following week, I think it was Thursday, I heard from Lisa. The company wanted to talk to Becca.
Since the agents’ visit, things had been quiet for the three of us. We were lost in our routine. Every couple of days, Sophie would bring over a few items—primarily clothes in case she stayed the night. While her stays mainly had been on Fridays and Saturdays, they occasionally extended to weekdays, depending on the weather and our mood. For instance, last Tuesday, it poured, so we didn’t want Sophie or Lucie driving in it, so she stayed the night.
However, that Thursday, Sophie had to take Lucie to the vet and left early, prompting Becca to call it a day as well. Lisa’s call came at just the right moment. I spoke to her briefly to get the news, then put her on speaker so Becca could join the discussion.
After some back and forth, explaining everything to Becca that Lisa had already told me, she informed us that the meeting was scheduled for the following Monday morning at the company headquarters.
“Do I need to wear the restraints?” Becca joked.
I could hear Lisa smiling on the phone as she replied, “Um—no. That bitch has been gone for a while,” clearly referring to Miranda Caldwell.
“But you might want to wear a nice suit, hosiery, and shoes,” Lisa added. “Given the nature of the meeting and the fact you’re now a shareholder, you want to show up looking like you mean business.”
Still chuckling, she continued, “In fact, wear those Louboutin stilettos.”
Becca’s grin widened. “Okay, I can do that. I’ll wear that pretty suit from the second FBI transport. It’s still chilly enough to pair with the coat.”
Becca then asked, “Do I need to decide at that moment?”
“No,” Lisa assured her. “You’ll have time. You’re a shareholder. There’s nothing they can do about it. You could do nothing and remain one. They’re wooing you—so I don’t see them in any position to offer ultimatums.”
She then provided her final words of wisdom before we hung up: “Just don’t let them intimidate you.”
She added with a laugh, “Your heels are longer than their dicks.”
After the call, we discussed the opportunity and wondered if it would change our lives. However, we decided not to get ahead of ourselves or bring Sophie into it just yet. We wanted to fully understand everything, including the details of the offer, before sharing any news.
That Monday, Becca took the day off. Sophie stayed the night, so Lucie could be with us the next day. I walked Lucie early that morning while the girls got ready—Sophie for the museum and Becca for the meeting with my company, or instead, what was really her company now.
It was amusing to watch Sophie put Becca into her transport restraints, only for them to realize she wouldn’t be going to the museum. But they stayed on Becca since she needed to wear them when we went out anyway.
After the girls shared a quick kiss, Sophie headed out, and Becca and I set off. The drive was uneventful, and we stopped along the way to remove Becca’s restraints.
As we entered, the security guard. The older gentleman, greeted us with a warm smile, directed at Becca, and led us to the same room we’d used the previous time. This time, though, Becca wouldn’t be hobbling around in transport restraints and six-inch stilettos.
As we stepped into the room, Mr. Thompson was already seated at the glass conference table. He stood up to extend his hand, greeting both of us warmly before we took our seats. Lisa was also present but didn’t stand, clearly unhappy with her choice of footwear—one flat and a bulky boot. She despised flats; they made her size nine feet feel enormous.
On the big screen were several unfamiliar faces, each appearing in their own little box, dialed into the meeting. As Mr. Thompson began to speak, it became clear that these strangers were the other shareholders. They were there to meet Becca and discuss the package the company was offering her, which, as I understood it, required a vote.
I found it odd that the shareholders needed to vote on a package for a fellow shareholder. Still, the details of the offer clarified everything later.
As Becca sat at the table, she crossed her legs, showcasing her five-inch heels. The male shareholders seemed thoroughly entertained, almost reducing her to just a pretty face in their eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder if they would take her seriously once the meeting began.
But their demeanor shifted as they realized she was more than just eye candy; she wasn’t the pushover they had initially thought. Becca was accustomed to addressing those in power—especially from her time at her previous job, where she often had to navigate conversations with demanding figures like Margaret.
Thoughts raced through my mind—usually, I was the calm one, but today, Becca exuded an undeniable confidence. While she could easily slip into a ditzy blonde persona, from where I sat, she projected the presence of a woman you didn’t want to underestimate, commanding respect with every word.
It was a powerful transformation, and I couldn’t help but admire how she took control of the room, making it clear she was there to make her mark—and she would do so without hesitation.
I found myself counting the zeros and trying to decipher the number of commas. It hit me—it was seven zeros. Seven. And two commas. I glanced over at Becca, who was doing the same thing, her face betraying no emotion. It was a moment of gravity, and I couldn’t help but wonder how she would respond to such a significant proposal.
Mr. Thompson explained the total value of her shares was lower than the buyout package being presented. Yet, they recognized the need to incentivize Becca’s decision. Therefore, the shareholders were prepared to offer her a substantial bump above the market value, not only to acknowledge her contribution but also to facilitate a smooth transition. This generous offer was intended to demonstrate their commitment to her future and to ensure that she felt valued as she moved on from the company.
The explanation to Becca was essentially that the other shareholders didn’t want anyone new involved who might shake things up. They offered her a 20 percent bump to encourage her to walk away. Lisa would tell us later that the shareholders were at odds with each other, and Becca could be a potential game-changer in important votes—like the layoffs—which made them uneasy. Despite this situation, it showed that Becca’s worth in the company was still in the millions, even without the package.
We also learned from Lisa that the shareholders had considered a smaller offer, which they would present only if they believed Becca might entertain it. However, based on her demeanor during the meeting, Mr. Thompson decided to go with the larger offer.
Becca thanked Mr. Thompson and the shareholders for their generosity, then, to their chagrin, she indicated that she would decide within the month. That was it. They didn’t push the matter further, simply expressing their appreciation for her consideration. As Lisa had pointed out, they were in no position to pressure her or even discuss timelines; they knew they were at her mercy.
Interestingly, they announced that the next shareholder meeting, where layoffs would be decided, would be moved to June. This change clearly demonstrated their desire to avoid having Becca’s vote influence the outcome, a strategic move that underscored their awareness of her potential power in the situation. It was a delicate dance, revealing just how much they were willing to adjust to accommodate her.
“And that’s when it happened.” As Sophie and I sat in the waiting room, I continued to explain things to her.
“You were just sitting there?” she asked with incredulity in her voice.
“Yeah, just at the stop sign. Still in the parking lot. And then he just plowed into us—t-boned us on the passenger side. I couldn’t even react,” I replied, doing my best to keep my composure despite the rush of memories.
“What happened after that?” Sophie pressed. “I looked over and saw Becca was conscious but struggling to breathe. People ran up and opened my side, asking if we were okay and that 911 had been called. They told us not to move.”
“I got here and was okay,” I said. “They checked me out and said I’d be bruised for a while and my body would hurt from the airbags. That’s when you arrived.”
“Yeah,” she said. “The hospital called me. I was listed as an emergency contact for both you and Becca.”
She paused, then asked, “They told me you had me listed as a family member in your phones.”
I nodded, looking her in the eye. “You are.”
“And they took Becca into surgery as soon as she got here?” Sophie asked, her voice laced with concern.
“Yeah,” I replied.
We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Sophie held my hand, resting her head on my shoulder while hugging my arm. The warmth of her presence was comforting amidst the anxiety.
As I squeezed her hand gently, a doctor stepped out.
“You’re Ms. Bounds’ family?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, both of us,” I replied, my heart racing.
“Well,” the doctor began, “she’s stable. We’ve managed the internal bleeding and addressed the collapsed lung with a chest tube, which will help remove any trapped air and facilitate re-expansion of the lung. She’ll be here for a few days for monitoring to ensure there are no infections and to assess lung function. Expect a recovery period of about a month before she returns to her baseline activity. It’s essential that she gets plenty of bed rest and avoids stress for the next few weeks. Absolutely no strenuous exercise, aside from gentle walking to promote circulation.”
We both nodded, relief washing over us. I then asked, “So, she’ll be fine?”
“Yes,” the doctor confirmed. “She will have a scar from the chest tube insertion and the surgical procedure. Patients who undergo this type of intervention may experience shortness of breath, which can persist for several months or longer. However, both she and the baby are stable and will be fine.”
“Baby?!” I exclaimed, the word hitting me like a freight train.
“Yes,” the doctor replied. “She’s pregnant.”
The doctor informed us we could see her but mentioned we’d need to wear masks and take other precautions during our visit, at least for the next few days.
We followed the staff who got us dressed, and then to her room, where we settled in beside her. In the quiet, Sophie broke the silence.
“We’re going to be parents,” she said softly. “We’ll need to seriously talk about leaving and getting a bigger place.”
She mentioned how she had been saving money and could help with the down payment for a larger home.
I then told her about all the zeros and commas from the earlier meeting, reassuring her that money wouldn’t be an issue. We talked about what it all meant for us—the future we envisioned together. Most importantly, we acknowledged that we were now a family, bound together.
We were there with Becca for a while, Sophie resting her head gently on Becca’s bed. Suddenly, I noticed my parents peering in through the window.
Sophie stood up and said, “I called them. They gave me your phone when I arrived. They were also listed as emergency contacts.”
She placed her hand on my face, her expression sincere. “They needed to know their son was in an accident alongside their future daughter-in-law.”
With a gentle smile, she continued, “It’s time to tell them everything. They need to know about their grandchild.”
Her words hung in the air, a blend of encouragement and weighted responsibility. I knew she was right; it was time to share the truth.
I stepped out of the room, removed my mask, and hugged my parents tightly before leading them downstairs to find a quiet corner in the cafeteria. Knowing my mother, I wanted a public place to talk, somewhere where we could speak freely but still be surrounded by people.
I told them about the accident, reassuring them that Becca would be okay and that I was alright. My mother’s expression shifted as she began to question the details.
“Who is that woman?” she asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “Why was she placing her hand on your face? Why was she resting next to Becca?”
Then she mentioned the article and the reason for her call the other day. “She looks like one of the women in the article. I think I recognized her from some of the photos.”
I got us all some coffee and then told them everything. Everything. I ended with the news that they were going to be grandparents.
My parents, being conservative, fell silent. I had anticipated their reaction; I knew they would disapprove. But at that moment, I didn’t care. I loved them, but I also loved the two women upstairs—one of whom was carrying our first child. Just as my mother seemed ready to speak, to express her disappointment and how this wasn’t how she had raised me, my dad interjected.
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