“Losing Titan would mean scaling back,” I countered. “Smaller teams, maybe fewer experimental projects.”
“Or different experimental projects,” Tabitha’s voice was full of practical optimism. “Projects we can control from start to finish.”
The fan blades cut through the afternoon light, castingshifting shadows across the wall. My sharp edge of panic had receded into manageable worry. The kind I could work with.
“Oliver’s going to want concrete alternatives. He won’t retire on good intentions and creative freedom.”
“Then we find him alternatives,” Tabitha pulled her phone from her pocket, fingers already moving across the screen. “I’ll start pulling together client lists, revenue projections. Maybe reach out to some of the studios we’ve collaborated with. See what partnerships might look like.”
The efficiency in her voice was comforting in a way that I understood at my core. Much like me, Tabitha in problem-solving mode could reorganize entire projects in less time than it took to get dry-cleaning done.
My phone buzzed against the sofa and I picked it up to read a text from Casey asking about the afternoon’s plans. The afternoon. Right. The world hadn’t stopped because Finn needed to.
“How long do we usually block out the crying closet?” I asked, responding to Casey to meet me in a few minutes.
“Depends. You went as long as two hours when the Henderson project was imploding,” Tabitha didn’t look up from her phone. “Finn’s been in there about forty minutes.”
Forty minutes. Long enough for the medication to start working, for his nervous system to begin unwinding from whatever cascade had overwhelmed it. Not long enough for him to feel completely human again.
I stood, restless energy needing somewhere to go. Through my office windows, the mountains caught the afternoon light, snow-capped peaks looking deceptively peaceful. Like they weren’t presiding over multiple crises simultaneously.
“I should check on the creative floor,” I decided. “Make sure Casey doesn’t need anything urgent.”
“I’ll handle client calls from here where I can keep an eye out for Sleeping Beauty,” Tabitha pulled her laptop onto her lap. “And I’ll draft some talking points for Oliver. Nothing definitive, justoptions to consider.”
The creative floor felt different in the afternoon as I swiped my card and entered, softer somehow, less urgent than the morning’s energy. A handful of people worked at scattered workstations. Focused quiet that meant deadlines were manageable, projects on track.
Casey emerged from his office as I passed, coffee mug in hand and expression shifting to concern the moment he spotted me.
“Everything okay? Finn seemed a bit off when you went to lunch.”
“Migraine. He’s resting in the crying closet. Should be fine in an hour or so.”
“Ah,” Casey nodded. “Let me know if you need anything. I can keep the floor quiet, route any calls elsewhere.”
This was why I loved my team. They looked out for each other, no questions asked. Our industry skewed high for neurodivergence, and Casey had worked with enough creatives to recognize when someone needed accommodation without making it a thing.
My eyes moved to Jordan’s office. The door was closed, but I didn’t want to take chances. I motioned for Casey to follow me back out to the lobby.
“Talk to me,” he turned once the doors had closed. This wasn’t our first lobby meeting.
“What was that I walked up on this morning?” I crossed my arms, trying to look casual, keeping one eye on Jordan’s door. “The energy seemed… really odd.”
“Jordan was asking Finn about his long-term plans around staying in the area,” Casey took a sip of his coffee. “He mentioned things happening with the company and you having a lot on your plate.”
“He’s really keen on the Titan opportunity,” I admitted, shifting my attention fully to Casey.
“It’s a little weird,” Casey glanced over at Jordan’s office this time.
“I asked Jason to audit our security protocols after Titan called. He found some odd queries into Sherlock, usually late at night, along with a couple of private repositories that don’t belong to me or Oliver. I didn’t think anything of it since we let the team work when they need to, but something’s not right.”
“You think Jordan’s up to something?” We both watched Jordan exit his office and move in the direction of the kitchenette across the floor. Casey motioned to the stairwell and I followed him.
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions,” I continued once the door had shut. “But can you keep an eye on his system activities? Loop Jason in to help you.”
“Anything you need, boss.” I thanked him and headed down the stairs.
Back in my office the rest of the afternoon unfolded in predictable layers. I answered emails, reviewed project timelines, had a brief call with a potential client that felt surreal after the morning’s depressing revelations. Normal business continuing while Finn recovered behind closed doors and Tabitha quietly built us a roadmap away from corporate acquisition while casually sitting on my sofa.
