"Not to complain," she adds, as if she senses the direction of my thoughts. "To congratulate us. He told me Legacy PR was the first firm he’s worked with in years that didn’t flinch under public pressure."
Carey’s smile deepens, barely.
Gabriella sits back. "He’s giving us his accounts."
The words hang there.
I blink. "His accounts?"
"Luka’s," Gabriella says, "and the rest. Randolph represents more than Popovich. He’s part of a larger agency network, and that network is now funneling clients in our direction."
This is the kind of pipeline agents build careers on. Gabriella watches my face for a reaction, probably expecting gratitude or excitement, but I give her neither. I couldn’t fake it even if I wanted to.
"This is the type of business expansion investors like to see," she says. "This is the kind of outcome that justifies our fees. It’s the kind of outcome that raises our valuation."
Carey leans forward slightly, elbows on the table as if she’s settling in to watch something entertaining.
"And it’s why," Gabriella adds, "I’m assigning Randolph’s accounts to you."
My breath catches, not because it’s a dream come true, but because I can already see the trap hidden inside the gift.
"You’ll oversee the relationship," Gabriella says, "with full support. This is a high-profile portfolio. If you manage it the way you handled Popovich, there’s a promotion path here for you, Natalia. I’ve already approved accounting to reimburse your entire trip. It was well worth it."
A promotion.
A raise.
A title that would have made my stomach flip with pride a month ago.
I stare at Gabriella for a moment, waiting for my body to do what it used to do—buzz with adrenaline, accept the offering, latch onto the goal.
Instead, I hear Luka’s voice in my head.
Feelings are leverage.
And then Carey’s text, glowing on my phone like a bruise.
I don’t normally condone sleeping with the client to advance your career.
The room feels smaller now when this place used to feel like a fortress. I fold my hands on the table so they don’t shake.
"You mean solutions like the one you used on Luka," I say quietly.
Gabriella’s brow lifts slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean tactics that break the trust between us and our client," I answer, voice steady. "Tactics the client explicitly asked us not to use."
Carey’s smile turns sharp. "Oh, we’re doing this."
Gabriella’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. "You’re framing this as betrayal."
"It was," I say.
Carey laughs softly as if I’ve said something cute. "It got us results."
I look at Carey. "He asked me not to tell anyone. He made me promise. You took that information and used it without his consent."
Carey’s expression doesn’t change. "We took a narrative and redirected it before it destroyed him."
