The Abandoned Groom Married his Ex's Enemy!

Old classmates had their memories.

Former employees had something considerably more recent.

While reunion photographs circulated through one group chat, another discussion began among people who’d actually worked under Giovanni Mercer.

These days, starting a private group chat for an informal survey took only minutes, and eventually someone created one for former Mercer Group project employees.

Before opening the discussion, the administrator laid down a few ground rules.

Keep it respectful. Share only your own experiences, and leave out confidential company information—no buying or selling anything here either. Whatever side business you’ve got going on, keep it in your private chats.

Simple enough.

Naturally, the conversation didn’t take long to get lively.

Mercer Group had employed numerous project-based assistants over the years, many of whom had moved on once their assignments ended. Among them was Gerald, an old college classmate of Giovanni’s who had later worked under him, putting him in the unusual position of knowing the man before and after he became CEO.

Someone asked the obvious question.

What’s Giovanni Mercer actually like as a boss?

Gerald answered almost immediately.

Aloof.

Several laughing reactions appeared.

Then he added:

Quiet. Detached sometimes. He won’t praise you every five minutes, if that’s what you’re asking.

Then why does everyone say they’d work for him again?

Who said we want to work for him again?

The laughing reactions multiplied.

A moment later, Gerald relented.

Kidding aside, he listens. Actually listens. You can disagree with him. Doesn’t mean he’ll agree with you, but he’ll give you the chance to explain why you think he’s wrong.

Another former employee joined in.

He also makes decisions.

Gerald replied:

And takes responsibility for them.

Someone challenged him.

Proof?

This time, Gerald took longer to answer.

Can’t give details. Confidentiality. But there was a decision once that didn’t work the way he expected.

Another message followed.

He could’ve blamed the team. He didn’t. He acknowledged that he’d approved it, asked what we needed to fix it, and let us get on with fixing it.

A former assistant chimed in.

That’s what I liked. If he gives you responsibility, he actually lets you do your job.

You lost me, buddy.

Ever had a helicopter boss?

Unfortunately.

Exactly. Some managers give you a job and then spend the entire time hovering because they don’t trust anyone except themselves. Giovanni wasn’t like that. If the job was yours, he expected you to handle it.

Gerald responded:

And God help you if you didn’t.

The conversation dissolved into laughter again.

That particular warning prompted several stories from people who had apparently learned the lesson firsthand.

One former project coordinator remembered arriving at a review meeting without figures Giovanni had specifically requested.

He didn’t yell at me. Somehow that would’ve been better.

What did he do?

Asked why I was there if I wasn’t ready to answer questions about my own report.

A laughing reaction appeared.

Ouch.

Exactly. I never went into another meeting unprepared.

Another employee remembered making an error in a cost projection and spending half the night preparing for what he was certain would be his termination.

Instead, Giovanni had gone through the figures with him, identified where the assumption had gone wrong, and sent him back to correct it.

Didn’t even threaten to fire you?

No. He asked if I understood the mistake.

And?

I said yes.

Then what?

He told me not to make him pay for the same lesson twice.

Gerald immediately reacted.

That sounds like him.

Different projects had apparently produced remarkably similar experiences.

Giovanni could be intimidating, particularly to anyone who arrived unprepared, but intimidation never seemed to be the point. He expected people to know their jobs because he’d hired them to do those jobs in the first place. If they disagreed with him, they could say so. If they made a mistake, they were expected to correct it.

What former employees seemed to remember most was that the same standard applied upward.

When the mistake belonged to Giovanni, the responsibility did too.

Eventually, Gerald sent another message.

Actually, most people here probably don’t know this about him.

The conversation slowed.

Giovanni and I were on the same swimming team in college. During one championship final, he was doing well enough that he probably would’ve placed if the swimmer in the next lane hadn’t gone under.

Someone immediately asked:

Went under?

Lost consciousness.

Gerald continued.

Giovanni left his lane, pulled him out, and started CPR.

The responses came almost immediately.

During the championship?!

Did the swimmer survive?

Gerald hadn’t answered yet when another name appeared in the chat.

The account belonged to another former Mercer employee who had attended college with them and apparently remembered the incident very well.

Yes. Gerald survived.

The chat went quiet.

Then:

Wait.

Was GERALD the swimmer?

Gerald finally responded.

Unfortunately for my dignity, yes.

The reactions exploded.

You left out the most important part!

I was telling you about Giovanni, not me.

His former college classmate chimed in again.

He’s telling the truth, by the way. Giovanni was in the next lane. The moment Gerald went under and didn’t come back up, he abandoned the race, pulled him out, and stayed with him until the medics took over.

That quieted the chat considerably.

After a moment, Gerald continued.

Giovanni never talked about losing that championship. It nearly affected his scholarship, but if you ask him about it, he’ll probably tell you there wasn’t any decision to make.

His old teammate replied:

That’s exactly what he said afterward.

Then:

Someone needed help. So he helped.

For once, nobody had a joke ready.

The silence lasted until one of the former assistants posted.

Since we’re sharing things, I have one.

Her next message took considerably longer to appear.

My mother had cancer while I was working at Mercer. Near the end, our insurance stopped covering everything, and the hospital balance was getting beyond what my family could manage.

The chat remained unusually quiet.

Sir Giovanni found out. I still don’t know how. He arranged financial assistance so we could stop worrying about whether we could afford to keep her comfortable.

Someone responded carefully.

Company assistance?

No. From him.

Another message appeared.

Was it a loan, or did he give you the money?

He called it a loan. I could pay it back when I was able, in whatever amount I could manage.

Gerald replied:

That’s a very generous definition of a loan.

A username called jaxon25 appeared beneath his.

No interest and no deadline? That’s practically a gift from above.

The former assistant paused before answering.

Maybe. But calling it a loan mattered to me.

That quieted the joking.

I didn’t have to feel like I was begging my boss for money. More importantly, my mother didn’t spend her remaining days worrying that being sick was going to leave the rest of us buried in debt.

Several reactions appeared beneath the message.

Then Gerald asked:

Did Giovanni ever tell you why he offered to help?

No.

Did you ask?

Once. He said I had enough to worry about and changed the subject.

Gerald didn’t respond immediately.

He’d known Giovanni before Mercer Group, back when they were college students and Ysabella Mercer was still alive. He also remembered what came afterward.

Most people hadn’t realized how serious her illness had become until there was frighteningly little time left to do anything about it.

Gerald had never asked Giovanni how much that had affected him. Some questions even old friends knew better than to ask.

Still, he could guess fairly well.

His next message was considerably simpler.

That sounds like him.

The former assistant continued.

After my mother passed, I asked when he wanted me to start paying him back.

Someone replied:

And?

He asked whether I was financially stable yet.

Were you?

Not really.

Then what happened?

He told me we’d talk about the loan when I was.

A pause followed before her final message appeared.

My contract ended before he ever brought it up again.

For several seconds, nobody said anything.

Gerald found himself thinking about Ysabella again.

Maybe Giovanni couldn’t change what had happened to his own mother. He couldn’t go back and recognize sooner that an illness was becoming something far more dangerous.

But years later, when someone else’s mother was sick, and one of his employees was frightened about money on top of everything else, he’d been in a position to remove at least one of those worries.

Apparently, he had.

Gerald didn’t put any of that into the chat.

It wasn’t his story to tell.