CHAPTER SEVEN

Lily's POV

My second day as CEO was not any better than the first. It started with a crisis before I'd even finished my coffee.

"Miss Rose?" Janet poked her head into my office at 7:47 AM. "The CFO needs to see you immediately. Something about quarterly projections and—I'm not sure I understood correctly—a potential audit?"

I nearly choked on my latte. "Potential audit? Already?"

"Apparently it's routine, but Mr. Hartley is concerned about... timing," Janet said. 

Of course, he was. Nothing said "confidence in new leadership" like an immediate audit.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in a conference room with five executives whose combined experience probably summed up to two hundred years, trying desperately not to look as lost as I felt.

"The issue, Miss Rose," said Bruno Sterling, our CFO, "is that we're required to submit quarterly projections to the board by Friday. These projections inform our investors about expected growth, guide our strategic planning, and—"

"And if they're inaccurate, we lose credibility," I finished. I'd stayed up until 3 AM reading about corporate financial reporting. "I understand. What specifically do you need from me?"

The executives exchanged glances. Clearly, they'd expected me to panic or defer to them entirely.

"We need your approval on the numbers. But you should understand what you're approving." Hartley said, slowly.

"Then explain it to me. In plain English, not corporate jargon."

For the next two hours, I received the most intense education I'd ever had. Sterling and his team walked me through everything – revenue streams, expense categories, market projections, and risk assessments. 

My head spun with acronyms: EBITDA, ROI, and P&L statements. 

But I willed myself to focus.

I pointed to a line item, "This division here. Art acquisitions and gallery management. It shows declining returns for three consecutive quarters. Why?"

Bruno blinked. "That's... actually a good question. The division head claims it's market volatility, but – “

"But you don't believe him?"

"I think the division is being mismanaged," Hartley admitted. "But it was Mr. Thompson's pet project, so no one wanted to – "

"Richard's dead," I said bluntly. "And I'm not sentimental about business divisions I know nothing about. Yet. Arrange a meeting with the division head. I need to know why we're losing money on something that should be profitable."

I could have sworn Bruno Sterling smiled, for the first time since I'd met him, "Yes, Miss Rose."

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of meetings. Department heads paraded through my office, each with their own agenda. 

Each was testing whether I was the pushover they assumed.

Marketing wanted budget increases. IT wanted to overhaul the entire system. HR wanted to discuss "cultural initiatives" that sounded expensive and vague.

While I approved some requests, I denied others, and asked for more information on most. 

It probably wasn't the best leadership, but at least I wasn't just rubber-stamping everything.

By noon, my brain felt like it had been through a blender.

"Janet, please tell me I have a lunch break."

"You have a working lunch with the executive strategy team," she said apologetically. "But I ordered from that Italian place you mentioned liking. It should arrive in fifteen minutes."

I could have kissed her. "Janet, you're a lifesaver."

"Just doing my job, Miss Rose."

The strategy meeting was actually productive. 

The team, minus Alexander, of course, seemed less hostile than the board had been. 

They asked real questions about my vision for the company, listened when I admitted what I didn't know, and offered genuine guidance instead of condescension.

And then I began to think, maybe I could actually do this.

By four PM, I was beyond exhausted. I'd been running on coffee and adrenaline since 6 AM, and I could barely push it anymore. 

"Janet, do I have any more meetings today?"

"Just one. Marcus Chen scheduled your meeting with Grand Palms Hotels for 5 PM. Their CEO agreed to meet you personally."

Right. The forty-million-dollar client who wanted to jump ship. No pressure.

"Do I have time to prepare?" I asked her, 

"Yes, you have forty-five minutes. I pulled together all the relevant files, contract history, and recent communications. They're on your desk."

Once again, I could have kissed her. I spent the next forty-five minutes speed-reading everything. I absorbed everything I could about Grand Palms Hotels, our business relationship, and the concerns they'd raised about leadership instability.

At 4:55, Janet walked me down to Conference Room B, where Marcus Chen waited nervously.

"Miss Rose, thank you for doing this. I should warn you, Duke Carter, the CEO is known for being... direct."

"Direct I can handle," I said, with more confidence than I felt. "Let's do this."

Duke Carter was a bulldog of a man in his sixties. He had steel-gray hair and eyes that assessed me like I was a balance sheet that didn't add up.

"Miss Rose." He didn't even bother to offer his hand. "I'll be frank. When I heard Richard Thompson died and left his company to someone with zero business experience, my first instinct was to terminate our contract immediately."

"But you didn't," I said calmly. "You agreed to this meeting. Why?"

My question seemed to surprise him. "Curiosity, mostly. I wanted to see what kind of person could convince Richard Thompson to do something so... unprecedented."

"I didn't convince him of anything. I didn't even know him." I said as I met his gaze, "Mr. Carter, I won't pretend I have years of corporate experience or an MBA from Harvard. What I have is respect for what Richard built, determination not to let his employees down, and enough common sense to surround myself with people who know more than I do. If that's not enough for you, I understand. But I hope you'll give me a chance to prove that Richard's faith wasn't misplaced."

For a long moment, nobody said anything Marcus looked like he might pass out any minute.

Finally, Carter's stern expression cracked into something that might have been a smile.

"Richard was always unconventional. I suppose his final decision was no different." He stood and extended his hand this time. "I'll honor our contract for now, Miss Rose. But I'll be watching. One quarter of disappointing results, and we're done."

"Fair enough," I said as I shook his hand firmly. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

After Carter left, Marcus looked at me with awe

"That was... I don't know what that was, but it worked. I'll be honest, I didn't think that would actually work,”

“Well, there you go,” I said, feeling like I could pass out any moment.

By the time I left the office at 6:30, every muscle in my body ached. I needed an immediate spa treatment.

Janet tried to insist I take the company car, but I vehemently refused.

Instead, I took the bus, earning strange looks from other passengers who recognized the expensive blazer Sophia had loaned me.

My apartment building looked especially shabby after a day at Thompson Enterprises. 

The elevator was faulty again so I climbed five flights of stairs in heels that were the weapon fashioned against my feet.

Safely inside my apartment, I kicked off my heels, stripped off the blazer, and collapsed onto my bed, still in my work clothes. 

My phone buzzed. A text from Sophia: How was day 2? Still surviving?

Barely, I typed back. But I kept a 40 million dollar client, so that's something.

Look at you, already talking in millions! My little CEO is growing up so fast.

I smiled despite my exhaustion. At least, no matter what, I had Sophia in my corner.

But as I lay there, staring at my water-stained ceiling, my mind drifted to Alexander. I'd managed to avoid him all day, but I knew that couldn't last. Eventually, we'd have to actually work together.

The thought brought dread and anticipation.

I rolled over, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror across the room. I looked every bit exhausted, overwhelmed, and completely out of my depth.

But I was also determined.

"You can do this," I whispered to my reflection. "You have to."

Because failure wasn't an option. Not with all the people counting on me. Not with Richard's legacy at stake.

And definitely not with Alexander Thompson waiting for me to prove him right.

I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come quickly. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new crises, new reasons to doubt myself.

But at least tonight, I'd survived.