Stepping out of the boardroom with Taylor close behind, Ilana was already being briefed on the chaos exploding online.
"Miss Kierson," Taylor began, quickening her pace to keep up. "I pulled the numbers this morning, and I thought you'd be interested in the scandal surrounding Theodore Reid."
"Who?" Ilana's tone was flat, her stride unbroken.
Taylor blinked, stunned by her boss's ignorance of the name that had dominated headlines for days.
"Only the latest young, acclaimed performer topping the charts," Taylor explained.
"Topping the charts? With a scandal hanging over him?" Ilana gave a dry huff, finding the irony almost funny.
"Well…" Taylor adjusted her glasses. "The scandal boosted his exposure. People who never paid attention before are streaming the songs—mostly to tear him down."
Ilana halted mid-stride, her gaze drifting absently across the rows of employees at work. "If the charts are in his favor, why is his label collapsing?"
Taylor cleared her throat, falling into pace beside Ilana. "On the surface, it's sponsorships pulling out. A few brands don't want their names tied to the scandal. Investors are nervous, too. Stock dipped nearly twelve percent this morning."
Ilana hummed, eyes scanning the office floor as they walked.
"But…" Taylor hesitated, adjusting her glasses again. "The speed of it all—it's unusual. Scandals normally drag out before numbers hit that low. This feels… accelerated. As if someone's pushing the dominoes faster than they should fall."
Ilana tilted her head slightly, lips curving in a humorless smirk. "You're suggesting an enemy?"
Taylor pressed her lips together, careful. "I'm suggesting that whoever benefits from the wreckage is already waiting in the wings."
"I do love a good challenge," Ilana said coolly, pausing mid-stride. Her gaze slid toward Taylor, sharp enough to cut through her measured tone. "But what's my gain in this?"
Taylor swallowed, tightening her grip on the tablet in her hands. Working with Ilana was always like this—like an endless interview she couldn't afford to fail even though she already got the job. Every answer had to be quick, calculated, convincing. Ilana didn't just want reports; she wanted reasoning, foresight. And Taylor gave it—because she liked it, even if it meant her nerves were in a constant state of readiness.
Still, sometimes she wondered if her boss enjoyed testing her too much.
Taylor adjusted her glasses, meeting Ilana's gaze without flinching. "Your gain, Miss Kierson, is leverage. The label is bleeding out and they know it. If you step in, even at the minimum, you control the narrative—and more importantly, the artist they're all scrambling to save. That's not charity, that's acquisition with long-term dividends."
She exhaled softly through her nose, just enough for Ilana to catch it. "And, if I may… you do like proving people wrong."
"Hmm…this is why I keep you around," Ilana turned, her tone half-impressed and half-teasing at Taylor's answer.
Taylor's lips curved into a slight smile, satisfied she won her boss's approval yet again.
"Contact the Head director," she added casually as she resumes walking. "We're meeting this afternoon."
****
The tension in the room deepened the moment Ilana entered, Taylor trailing behind with her tablet pressed neatly to her side.
The Head Director sat rigidly, the company lawyer beside him, and at the far end of the table — Theodore Reid. Young, impossibly polished even with exhaustion clinging to him, and the very center of the storm pulling Zenith Records under.
Ilana didn't falter. She took her seat opposite them, one leg crossed with deliberate poise. Taylor gave the introductions, her voice crisp and practiced.
"Miss Kierson is here to review the acquisition proposal for Zenith Records," she stated. "As you're aware, the company's market value has taken a drastic hit. This meeting is to finalize terms of transfer before further deterioration."
The Director gave a shallow nod. The lawyer cleared his throat. Papers were passed, clauses explained, numbers exchanged. Through it all, Theodore remained quiet, hands folded loosely on the table, watching Ilana with a calm curiosity that didn't quite match the chaos his name had become.
Ilana finally leaned forward, breaking the heavy rhythm of negotiation. "This label is bleeding out," she said plainly, her voice low but razor sharp. "You want it to survive, you'll let it change hands. Now."
No one argued. Within the hour, signatures inked the paper, and Zenith Records belonged to her.
Ilana snapped the folder shut, her fingers tapping once against the polished wood of the table. "A reminder, this contract is not public. Not now, not ever—at least until I decide otherwise." Her voice was even, measured, but carried the kind of weight that made the Director stiffen in his seat.
She let her gaze travel across the faces present, deliberately pausing on Theodore before sweeping over the Director and the lawyer. "The last thing we want is to hand our enemy the satisfaction of seeing us scramble. If someone's pulling strings behind this scandal, better they believe we're falling apart."
The Director adjusted his glasses nervously. "So… then my position—?"
"Unchanged." Ilana cut in, rising to her feet with effortless authority. "You remain the face of this company. The press, the public, even the investors—they answer to you." She leaned slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to make him swallow. "But remember, every decision you make now runs through me. I'm the lock on this door. Don't forget that."
The lawyer cleared his throat, fumbling with his pen again. "Understood, Miss Kierson."
Ilana passed the signed paperwork to Taylor, who slid it neatly back into her portfolio. Then she turned her gaze across the table, her eyes narrowing specifically on Theodore.
Theodore leaned back in his chair, lips twitching in something caught between amusement and curiosity. "So I'm… just supposed to keep making music while you play phantom CEO?"
Ilana leaned slightly toward Taylor without even glancing his way. "Tell me," she murmured, dry as desert air, "why exactly is he sitting here like he has something useful to contribute?"
Taylor lowered her voice, as though she could shield him from the jab. "They need his signature. And…he insisted on being present."
Finally, Ilana turned just enough to give Theodore a passing side-eye — quick, cutting, bored. Then she faced the table again, pen in hand. "Hn. Wasted space."
The room stalled. The Lawyer shifted in his seat, pretending to scribble something so he wouldn't laugh. The Head Director blinked twice, clearly caught between professionalism and secondhand embarrassment.
And Theodore?
He let out the faintest chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "At least you didn't call me dead weight." He breathed.
That earned a tight cough from the lawyer, a pinched brow from the Director, and a look from Taylor that begged Ilana not to start another fire.
Ilana turned back to him, her expression unreadable. "You do your job. I'll make sure you still have a stage to stand on."
Eyes locking on Theodore with cool finality. "Let's be clear," she said, voice slicing the tension, "I'm not buying you out of your scandal. This—" she gestured to the documents, "—is not a solution to your problem."
For the first time in the meeting, Theodore leaned forward slightly, meeting her eyes. There was no defensiveness in his expression, only a quiet acknowledgment.
"I understand," he said simply, voice steady.
Ilana studied him for a moment longer, as if testing the weight of his composure, before settling back into her chair.
"And your manager?" she asked, realizing she hadn't paid mind to the absence.
"I asked him to stay back," Theodore said evenly, as though it were the most natural thing.
"Hm. He's fired."
The Director sucked in a sharp breath. The lawyer's pen slipped and clattered against his notepad. Taylor pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath.
Theodore just blinked, then leaned back with an almost amused exhale. "You move fast."
"I don't waste time on incompetence." She scrolled through her phone as though the subject were closed.
Silence thickened. Taylor closed the folder and tucked it neatly under her arm before stepping up beside Ilana.
"Gentlemen," Ilana said crisply, extending her hand to each of them in turn. The shakes were brief, firm, more dismissal than courtesy. "We'll speak again soon."
She pivoted on her heel, heels clicking like a gavel striking down judgment as she and Taylor walked out, leaving behind an air that made it clear who the true power belonged to.
The men at the table stayed unnervingly quiet—except Theodore, who leaned back in his chair, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth as he watched Ilana walk out.
For the first time all morning, the storm didn't feel quite so heavy.