I sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask Drew if she has any rookies she wants to promote shit, or you could just decline politely. Suggest a charity component. If they agree, we revisit.”
Next is a fashion brand partnership for winter apparel. That one is good. Clean, on trend, and already predicted to sell out.
“Approve,” I say. “But adjust the phrasing in section four. We do not say cozy couture. Ever.”
Jonah makes a note. “Understood.”
Then we get to the big one. A holiday charity collab proposal with a national toy brand. Great on paper. Messy in execution. No clear distribution timeline. Bad PR risk if they fall behind.
I take a moment before proposing, “We take it. But only if they let us oversee logistics. I will not have a repeat of last year’s teddy bear shortage meltdown.”
Jonah winces. “Parents still send me angry emails.”
“They should,” I say. “That was traumatic.”
His team agrees.
We move on to renewal contracts, partnership analytics, and brand sentiment scores. I make cuts. I tighten language. I shift timelines. The room watches me like I am performing surgery. I fucking love it.
When we finish, Jonah sits back, exhausted. “You know, sometimes I think you are the only person keeping this company on trend.”
I offer a small smile. “Then do not mess up the toy deal.”
He laughs, salutes me with his coffee, and then leads his team out.
Once Partnerships clears out, I barely have time to inhale before the next wave arrives.
News and Editorial pops in next with Elena Voss at the helm. Sharp update, sharper eyes, one headline tweak from me, then they are gone.
Digital and Streaming follow. Dev Mehra mumbles about analytics; I reorganize their Q1 strategy in under five minutes, and he bows as if I performed an exorcism.
Marketing and Creative Strategy breezes through with color palettes and campaign drafts. Three approvals, one kill, two minor reworks, and they scurry out before the glitter settles.
Finance and Investor Relations enters like someone dimmed the lights. Charles Davenport hands me projections and watches for weakness. I give him none. He leaves mildly annoyed, which is my baseline preference.
Legal and Compliance come in with contract language and risk summaries. I sign off on everything except a clause that sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen. Marina nods once and disappears.
HR and Talent stop by to remind me humans exist. I approve their staffing adjustments, politely ignore their concerns about “employee emotional climate,” and wave them out.
Events and Live Productions updates me on holiday broadcasts, which I condense into three actionable notes and a single “no, absolutely not.”
Finally, IT and Infrastructure materialize. Owen grunts something about servers and cyber hygiene. I authorize upgrades, and he vanishes like smoke.
By noon, every department is handled. Fast. Efficient. Clean. Dad would be proud.
I stand ready to head to the office when I see them.
Three shareholders. Old money faces, old world entitlement. Standing outside my father’s office like wolves waiting for a weak deer.
My stomach drops.
“Miss Fairfax,” Herman Muldoon tries to make his sneer look like a smile.Epic fail. “We hoped to meet with your father regarding end-of-quarter adjustments.”
My pulse kicks into my throat; a meeting now is impossible.
I fold my arms, voice even. “He’s not available.”
“Then we will wait,” Scott Smith is already reaching for the door.
