I came home three days early because I wanted to catch the people who worked for me when they thought I wasn't watching

Annie spent three days in the VIP wing of Mount Sinai Hospital.

I paid for everything out of my personal account. I brought in the top prosthetists on the East Coast. I didn't just want a replacement; I ordered the most advanced, bionic, neuro-linked prosthetic leg money could buy. It was constructed from titanium and carbon fiber, customized perfectly to her anatomy.

While she recovered, I went to war at my own company.

I fired the efficiency consultants. I ripped up the employee handbook. I instituted a new policy across the entire Graves International global network:

Immediate Medical Care: Any employee requiring essential medical equipment or care receives it on day one. No probationary periods. No red tape.

The Annie Carter Educational Grant: A fully funded scholarship program for any entry-level employee wishing to pursue higher education in STEM fields, complete with flexible working hours.

Managerial Empathy Training: Middle management performance bonuses were now tied directly to anonymous employee satisfaction and wellness reports.

When I brought the new policy documents to Annie’s hospital room, she was sitting up in bed, looking at her shiny new titanium leg with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

She read the papers, her hands trembling. She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. “Mr. Graves... this is going to change thousands of lives.”

“No, Annie,” I said, pulling up a chair next to her bed. “You changed thousands of lives. You showed me what happens when a leader signs a paper without looking at the faces it affects.”

I reached into my briefcase and pulled out one more document.

“I have a proposition for you,” I said. “Evelyn Vance is gone. But I don't want to hire another HR director. I want to hire a Chief of Estate Operations and Technology. Someone who understands the software, the hardware, and the people.”

Annie stared at me. “Sir, I’m an eighteen-year-old maid.”

“You’re a brilliant engineer who fixed my multi-million dollar server grid with a wrench and a flashlight while standing on a broken leg,” I corrected with a smile. “I’ll pay for the rest of your degree. You can take classes during the day. But I want you running my estate.”