Early the next morning I ordered Theresa to fly to Nashville and meet me in a private hospital conference room.

When she arrived, clutching her corporate tablet, I laid my phone on the table and played all three blocked voicemails without a word.

As the last one ended, Theresa went pale, and tears started down her face.

“Mr.

Callahan, I swear I thought she was trying to pull you back into a toxic settlement,” she stammered.

“You told me explicitly that you wanted zero personal distractions during the acquisition.”

“She was carrying my son, Theresa,” I said, with a calm that frightened us both.