Chapter 4

CARRIE

A few minutes later I sat in the conference room and said, “I want all the ad copy drafts in my inbox by the close of business tomorrow. I glanced up from my laptop and looked at the faces of my team members.

“Melissa,” I continued while I looked back at my computer screen, “I need a revised version of the Langford pitch deck. Cut it down to ten slides, and make sure we open with their projected social impact. Not the numbers, they want sentiment first.”

Melissa nodded, already typing furiously into her tablet. “Got it boss.”

“And Joel,” I added, “you’ll coordinate with Hani on the influencer shortlist for Carmichael. I want a draft strategy plan before lunch break tomorrow. Names, numbers, and proposed campaign duration.”

“Will do,” Joel replied, flipping to a fresh page in his notepad. His handwriting was a mess, but he always delivered.

I turned slightly to face Tyler, who’d been quiet through most of the meeting. “Tyler, I’m trusting you with media buying projections for both campaigns. Start running models on three, six, and twelve-month options. I need cost breakdowns for digital versus traditional placements as soon as possible.”

Tyler raised his brows slightly but nodded. “I'll start pulling historical data right after this.”

“Perfect.” I paused to make sure no one looked confused or hesitant. Everyone seemed alert, which I appreciated. I hated having to repeat myself. “If anything’s unclear, you know where to find me.” I reminded them again.

With that, I gave a small, satisfied nod and glanced back down at my laptop screen. “That’s all. You can all go back to your offices.”

The chairs scraped and wheeled backward, followed by murmured thank-yous and the shuffle of departing footsteps. I didn’t look up again; I was already pulling up the Q4 performance sheet I’d started updating earlier. The rest of the memo to COO wasn’t going to write itself.

My hands moved automatically over the keyboard, fingers flying from one formula to the next. I was deep in the rhythm: just me, my screen, and the comforting click-clack of work being accomplished. I wanted to finish with the performance sheet before going to see Shane.

The room emptied slowly. I heard the soft thud of the door closing behind the last team member, and then, silence.

I was alone.

I liked this part of the day—the brief, focused calm right after the meetings ended and before the afternoon wave of emails came rushing in. It was like standing in the eye of a storm. Everything had a hush to it.

I was polishing off the final paragraph of the memo when the door creaked open again.

“I knew you’d be here,” a voice said.

I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. I already knew.

Nathaniel.

I looked up anyway, slowly and deliberately, just to make it clear that I wasn’t even pretending to be surprised.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with too much familiarity, as though he owned the place.

“I checked your office,” he added, his tone casual.

I stared at him, unimpressed. “What do you want, Nathaniel?”

He walked toward the table but didn’t sit. Instead, he leaned on the back of the chair directly across from me, hands braced like he was trying to keep himself grounded or stop himself from lunging at me.

“I know what you are planning,” he said coldly.

“You’re going to have to be more specific. I do a lot of things.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You are planning to convince Shane to call off the SharpLens merger with your fake and unreasonable report.”

‘How did this son of a bitch find out?’ I thought to myself. And I said to him, “then why are you worried,” I looked straight into his eyes, I didn't want him to see any sign of my surprise. “Uncle Nathaniel.”

“You realize you're about to jeopardize months of work?”

“Don’t you think it's better than signing a deal with a firm drowning in lawsuits and undisclosed liabilities,” I replied smoothly, eyes on my screen.

His face darkened. “Don’t get yourself into trouble, Carrie. Forget about stopping this merger .”

“I don't have any power to stop it. I'm only going to tell the CEO what I found out,” I replied, looking up. “You know, the person who makes executive decisions.”

His nostrils flared. “You think marrying Shane gives you license to meddle in a strategy you don’t understand?”

I gave a soft, humorless laugh. “What I understand is numbers, transparency, and the danger of partnering with a company whose CFO is under investigation in three states. If that’s ‘meddling,’ then you’re right, Mr. Blackwood I’m guilty.”

“Be careful, don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Are you threatening me, Mr. Blackwood?” I gave him a pointed look.

Nathaniel's voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. “You keep inserting yourself into board-level decisions, and you’ll regret ever marrying into this family.”

That made me pause. I tilted my head and met his eyes without blinking.

“What are you going to do to me?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Consider it a reminder of how quickly things can turn.”

“Well, here’s a reminder for you,” I replied, just as quietly. “I’m not afraid of you, Nathaniel. I see through your smoke and mirrors. You think I don’t know why you pushed for SharpLens? Because you’re in bed with their ghost investors? Or is it just about the bonuses you’d get for ‘pulling off’ a merger?”

He stood there, stunned for a second too long.

“You’re desperate,” I continued. “You’re cornered. And that’s why you’re lashing out at me. Because I caught you.”

His voice came back sharp and venomous. “You don’t know how this world works.”

“And you don’t know how much I’m willing to burn to protect what’s right.”

His eyes flared, just a fraction before he turned abruptly toward the door.

I squared my shoulders, and reached for the plastic folder lying in front of me. I slipped it under my arm, picked up my laptop and left the conference room. I headed toward Shane’s office. My heels clicked against the polished floor, each step sharpening my resolve.

When I entered his office, he was glued to his computer screen, focused. But he looked up the moment I stepped in.

“Do you have a moment?” I asked. I kept my voice cool, controlled.

“Sure,” he replied, gesturing toward the seat across from him. “Come over.”

I crossed the space and placed the folder on his desk. Then I sat.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He waited for me to talk.

“I don’t think the SharpLens Media merger is a good move,” I said bluntly.

His posture shifted. Arms folded across his chest. “Not a good move?” he echoed. “How?”

I leaned forward. “Because something doesn’t add up. Nathaniel’s been overly aggressive about this deal. It made me suspicious, so I looked closer.”

I slid the folder toward him. “There are things you should see.”

Shane opened the folder with mild curiosity. I could tell he wasn’t expecting anything groundbreaking.

“There are debts buried under asset reallocations, inflated revenue forecasts…” I began. “They’re bleeding internally, Shane. But they’re dressing it up with sleek branding and projections that don’t hold water.”

He frowned and looked up at me, then back at the pages.

“And the worst part,” I continued, “Nathaniel’s wife’s sister, JoAnn Caldwell owns a significant stake in the company. No disclosure. No transparency. He’s pushing this merger for a personal payoff. I can bet my life on that.”

That got his attention. He sat straighter. “JoAnn? A shareholder?”

I nodded. “A major one.”

He flipped through the report with more intent now, the tension in his brow deepening as the numbers told the story I’d already pieced together. When he reached the last page, he closed the folder slowly and gave me a blank look, unreadable.

“I’ll look into it,” he said flatly.

That was it.

I sat there for a moment longer, waiting for something. Anything. A flicker of appreciation.

But there was nothing.

I swallowed hard and stood. “See you later at home, Shane,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Yeah, later,” he muttered, eyes already back on his screen.

I stood up and dragged my feet outside. The door clicked shut behind me, and I heard footsteps. I turned, it was Nathaniel again. He stood a few meters away from me and gave me a very chilling look that sent shivers down my spine.