Chapter 541 Martin's Strategic Advice
Patricia looked at James, puzzled, trying to make sense of his words.
James, seeing her confusion, raised an eyebrow and clarified, "Make an example out of someone."
Her eyes suddenly brightened with understanding. "I get what you're saying," she acknowledged.
She then seemed to recall something, and her expression dimmed. "Setting an example would work best. But with the company at such a critical juncture and all of them being high-level executives, it's a delicate situation. Even if I do find replacements, if they all threaten to quit over my decisions, it'll create chaos."
She feared that instead of setting an example, it might backfire and give them even more leverage over her—a loss rather than a gain.
"You must be certain before you act," James affirmed.
Standing up, James sifted through a pile of documents on his desk and singled out a name. "He's out sick, right? As president, showing concern for your employees and extending your sympathy is only natural."
Patricia looked at the name he was pointing to—the Director of Public Relations, who had filed for sick leave with HR with no certain return date.
James then pointed to a few other names on the document, laying out a plan.
"This one's father-in-law is ill. You could send some fruit as a show of sympathy or, if necessary, hire a nurse at a premium for his care."
"This one sprained his ankle. That's even easier to manage—arrange a car service for him and an assistant to help him out personally."
"And this one's car is still in the shop. Reward him with a new company car for his troubles. If it breaks again, we'll get him a new one."
Despite the Langley Group's rough patch, they could afford a new car worth a few thousand dollars.
"If the company's finances or the other shareholders aren't on board, you can pay out of your pocket," James suggested, knowing that Mr. Langley had left Patricia with a substantial inheritance. "Squeezing out a few thousand bucks for this shouldn't be hard."
"Isn't his daughter sick? Get her into the best hospital, under the care of top doctors, and ensure she's well looked after."
James continued listing instructions, one by one.
Realizing what he was implying, Patricia's expression cleared, and she laughed. "Alan, get ready. We're going to see him first."
Alan nodded.
James said, "Just go for a visit, don't say anything, and then come back and tell me about it. I'll tell you what to do next."
"Aren't you coming with us?" Patricia said.
James covered his mouth, coughing. "I'm not in the best health for traveling. If you trust me, I can stay behind and help you with other matters."
Patricia nodded vigorously. "I trust you."
It wasn't just because Alan had recommended him; something about him reminded her of Martin, so she instinctively trusted him, believing he would never harm her.
James felt a warmth in his heart and, in a hoarse voice, said, "Be careful."
Patricia smiled. "I'm just visiting a sick person. There's no danger. But you, if you don't understand something or run into any issues, get in touch with us any time."
"Will do. I certainly will."
After the plan was clear, Patricia and Alan immediately left the house. Their first stop was the home of the Director of PR.
The sick leave slip indicated he had a persistent fever from a viral infection, going daily to the clinic in his apartment complex for IV treatments and then resting at home. According to the schedule, he should be at the clinic for his infusion right about now.
Arriving at the complex, Patricia asked the security guard where to find the clinic—it turns out there was just one nearby. Patricia and Alan headed to the clinic, stopping to buy a bouquet from a florist along the way and a basket of premium fruit from a shop next door.
As expected, the Director of PR was nowhere in sight. Patricia and Alan exchanged glances.
With a scoff, Patricia watched as Alan pulled out his phone and dialed the Director of PR. The call was swiftly answered, and a tired, cough-ridden voice came through.
"Ahem, Alan, I'm sorry, I'm still sick. I can't make it to the office. I'll be there as soon as I'm better," the Director of PR croaked.
Instead of calling him out on his lie, Alan asked, "Where are you now?"
"I'm at the clinic in my neighborhood, getting an IV," the Director of PR replied.
Alan, unable to conceal the chill in his eyes, shot Patricia a look. "The Star clinic, you mean?"
"Yes, that's the one—" the Director of PR began but stopped mid-sentence, sounding incredulous. "Wait, how do you know the name of the clinic?"
Alan's voice softened as he explained, "We knew you were ill, so Patricia and I decided to come check on you."
Panicking, the Director of PR responded, "Oh no, why did you come over? I was about to get my IV. I had stomach pains and used the restroom on the way out. Just wait for me; I'll be right there."
After hanging up, he hurried over as fast as he could. He was a middle-aged man, in his thirties or forties, of average build and height, with a crew cut and glasses. Perhaps because he had rushed, he arrived sweating and gasping for breath.
Upon seeing Patricia at the door, he cautiously asked, with his gaze flickering with guilt, "What brings you here, Patricia?"
Smiling, Patricia wasn't upset. She handed him a bouquet of flowers and a basket of fruit. "I heard from Jack that you were feeling under the weather, so I wanted to stop by and see how you're doing."
The Director of PR shifted his eyes slyly and faked a cough. "Thanks for the concern. I haven't been sick in years, and this time, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I'm sorry for inconveniencing you and the company."
Patricia chuckled, then changed the subject. "So, are you getting another shot today?"
Desperate to send them away, he nodded vigorously. "Right. I might not be able to entertain you, perhaps..."
Before he could show them the door, Patricia interjected, "Well, best get that shot then. We can chat while you do."
The Director of PR faltered.
Seeing his hesitation, Patricia encouraged him with a smile, "Go ahead. We cleared our schedule just to see you."
At that moment, the Director of PR had merely wanted to use the IV excuse to get them to leave—he never actually intended to go through with it. But now, trapped by his own lie, he couldn't back out. Without the IV, his lies would unravel, and if the labor strike turned into terminations, it would be a disastrous loss.
He steeled himself and walked into the clinic.
"Hey, what brings you here?" the doctor asked.
The Director of PR sputtered, visibly sweating and making frantic gestures at him. "I got held up this morning, so I'm a bit late. Please hook me up with that IV. I'm feeling dizzy and need to sit for a bit."
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