I Can’t Go, Millionaire Crys—Single Dad Mechanic Takes Her To The Hospital And Everything Changes
A Mechanic in the Boardroom
The emergency room was crowded. However, Eliza’s condition, and perhaps her expensive clothes, got her immediate attention.
Jake found himself pacing the waiting room, wondering why he was still there. He should be at the garage.
He had appointments and bills to pay. He had a life that didn’t include worrying about millionaire CEOs with appendicitis.
Yet he stayed. An hour later, a nurse approached him.
“Mr. Matthews? Ms. Harrington is asking for you.” Jake followed the nurse to a small recovery room.
Eliza lay in a hospital bed, looking smaller somehow without her power suit and commanding presence. “They’re prepping me for surgery,” she said without preamble.
“Ruptured appendix. Could have killed me if I’d waited any longer.” She paused, meeting his eyes. “Thank you.”
Jake shrugged. “Anyone would have done the same.”
“No,” Eliza said firmly. “They wouldn’t have.”
“Most people in this city would have walked right past me, especially knowing who I am.” “I didn’t know who you were,” Jake admitted.
“Exactly.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips.
“That’s why I need to ask you a favor. A big one.” Jake raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
“The meeting—it’s at Westbrook Tower in 40 minutes. I need someone to go in my place to ask for a postponement.” “Not a cancellation,” she clarified.
“They’ll walk if it’s canceled. Just buy me some time.” Jake laughed, then realized she was serious.
“You want me, a mechanic with grease under his nails, to walk into a boardroom full of suits and represent you?” “Yes,” Eliza said simply.
“Because you’ll tell the truth. And because I trust you.” “You don’t even know me,” Jake countered.
“I know enough.” Her green eyes held his.
“You stopped for a stranger in distress. You put my needs above your own.” “That tells me everything important about your character.”
Jake ran a hand through his hair. “This is crazy.” “Welcome to my world,” Eliza replied.
Eliza reached for her purse and pulled out a business card and a small key. “My assistant, Marcus, will meet you in the lobby. Show him this card.”
“The key is to my briefcase in the Ferrari. There’s a tablet inside with the presentation.” She gave him final instructions.
“Just tell them I’m in emergency surgery and need 24 hours.” Jake took the card and key, feeling as though he’d stepped into someone else’s life.
“And if they say no?” Eliza’s expression hardened.
“Then 2,000 people lose their livelihoods. This happens because venture capitalists can’t wait one day for a woman having emergency surgery.” Put that way, Jake couldn’t refuse.
“I’ll do my best,” Jake promised. “That’s all I ask,” she replied.
As Jake turned to leave, Eliza called after him. “Jake? The Ferrari keys are in my coat pocket. Take it.”
He stared at her. “You want me to drive your Ferrari?”
“It’s faster than your truck,” she said practically. “And it might help with credibility when you arrive.”
Driving the Ferrari was like nothing Jake had ever experienced. The engine responded to the lightest touch.
The leather seat cradled him like a lover. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine a different life.
He imagined a life where he wasn’t constantly worried about money. He pictured Lily having new shoes whenever she needed them.
He saw his garage thriving instead of barely surviving. Then reality intruded as he pulled up to Westbrook Tower.
The tower was a gleaming monolith of glass and steel that seemed to touch the clouds. The valet’s eyes widened at the sight of Jake.
Jake was in his work clothes and boots, emerging from Eliza’s Ferrari. “I’m here for the Harrington meeting,” Jake said, trying to project confidence.
As promised, Marcus was waiting in the lobby. He was a slim man with wire-rimmed glasses who looked Jake up and down with horror.
“Miss Harrington sent you?” he asked incredulously. Jake handed him the business card.
“She’s in emergency surgery. Ruptured appendix.” “She asked me to request a 24-hour postponement.”
Marcus’ professional demeanor reasserted itself. “I see. Well, this is unexpected, but if Eliza trusts you…”
He gestured toward the elevator. “Follow me, Mr. Matthews.” “Jake Matthews,” Jake corrected.
The elevator whisked them to the 50th floor. A reception area led to a massive boardroom.
Through the glass walls, Jake could see a dozen people in expensive suits. They were checking watches and scrolling through phones.
“Wait here,” Marcus instructed, entering the room alone. Jake watched as Marcus spoke to the group, gesturing occasionally in his direction.
Several heads turned to stare at him. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to outright disdain.
After what felt like an eternity, Marcus emerged. “They want to hear it from you,” he said quietly. “Directly.”
Jake swallowed hard. “What do I say?”
“The truth,” Marcus replied, echoing Eliza’s words. “Just the truth.”
Heart pounding, Jake entered the boardroom. The conversation died immediately as all eyes turned to him.
“Gentlemen, ladies,” Jake began, his voice steadier than he expected. “My name is Jake Matthews.”
“Eliza Harrington is currently in emergency surgery for a ruptured appendix.” “She asked me to come here and request a 24-hour postponement of this meeting.”
A silver-haired man at the head of the table leaned forward. “And you are?”
“I’m a mechanic. I own Matthews Garage on Elm Street.” “Ms. Harrington collapsed outside my shop this morning.”
Murmurs rippled through the room. The silver-haired man, clearly the leader, studied Jake with cold eyes.
“Mr. Matthews, do you know what this meeting is about?” Jake shook his head.
“No, sir. I just know that Ms. Harrington said 2,000 jobs depend on it.” “Indeed.” The man steepled his fingers.
“We’re here to discuss the acquisition of Harrington Tech Solutions by Westbrook Industries.” “A deal worth billions that Ms. Harrington has been fighting for months.”
Jake frowned. “Fighting for… or against?”
The question seemed to surprise the man. “Against initially, but market pressures have forced her hand.”
“Today was to be the final negotiation before signing.” Something didn’t add up for Jake.
Why would Eliza be so desperate to attend a meeting to sell her company when she’d been fighting against it? Jake thought of the determination in her eyes.
He remembered the way she’d said 2,000 people lose their jobs. “Sir,” Jake said slowly.
“I don’t know much about business, but I know people. And I know that Eliza Harrington was willing to risk her life to be here today.” “Not to surrender, but to fight for those 2,000 employees.”
The room fell silent. The silver-haired man’s expression was unreadable.
“You seem very certain of Ms. Harrington’s intentions for someone who just met her this morning.” Jake met his gaze steadily.
“Sometimes you learn more about a person in a moment of crisis than in years of casual acquaintance.” A woman at the far end of the table suddenly laughed.
“He’s got you there, Richard.” She turned to Jake.
“I’m Victoria Westbrook. This is my father, Richard Westbrook.” “And you’re right. Eliza wasn’t coming here to surrender.”
“She was coming with a counter-offer.” Richard Westbrook’s jaw tightened.
“Victoria…” he warned. “No, Dad. I’m tired of the games.”
Victoria stood, addressing the room. “Eliza Harrington built her company from nothing.”
“She’s created more innovation in 5 years than Westbrook has in 20.” “We shouldn’t be acquiring her. We should be partnering with her.”
Jake watched the power dynamics shift in the room. He felt like an observer in a play he didn’t fully understand.
Richard Westbrook’s expression darkened. “This is hardly the time or place.”
“Actually,” Jake interrupted, surprising himself with his boldness. “It seems like exactly the time and place.”
“Ms. Harrington risked her life to be here today.” “The least you can do is wait 24 hours to hear what she has to say.”
The room fell silent again. Then unexpectedly, Richard Westbrook smiled—a small, tight smile, but genuine nonetheless.
“You’re either very brave or very foolish, Mr. Matthews.” He glanced around the table.
“All in favor of postponing until tomorrow afternoon?” Hands rose around the table.
Victoria Westbrook’s was the first up. Her eyes twinkled with something like approval as she looked at Jake.
“Motion carried,” Richard announced. “We reconvene tomorrow at 2 p.m.”
“Please extend our well-wishes to Ms. Harrington for a speedy recovery.” The meeting dispersed.
