Chapter 10: The Tie That Ruined Everything (in the Best Way)

By the time Katherine arrived at the Mason Equity Group that morning, something was already... off.

She could feel it in the air.

Not in the bad way, like when the coffee machine breaks or Jenkins wears sandals again.

No, this was different.

The office buzzed — but it wasn’t the usual pre-meeting panic.

It was quieter. Charged.

Like the universe was holding its breath.

And Katherine Brown — queen of organized chaos — strutted in like she owned the damn cosmos.

She wore a blazer the color of wild cherries and lipstick to match.

Her heels clicked like promises.

Her earrings said: don’t test me today, I’ve got graphs.

She waved a coffee cup at Cara.

“Today is the day.”

Cara blinked. “The day for what?”

“Victory. Or flames. Either way, we go down fabulous.”

Behind her, someone muttered: “Dear God.”

The boardroom was already prepped.

Rows of chairs, polished table, intimidating screen.

The kind of room where empires were made or burned to ash.

And at the head of the table: ten chairs that would soon be filled with shareholders, directors, and one woman with a face like she bit lemons for breakfast — Chairwoman Talbot.

Katherine looked at the room and grinned.

“This’ll be fun.”

Jenkins dropped his tablet.

At precisely 9:58 AM, Sebastian Mason entered the boardroom.

The room stilled. The air restructured itself.

He moved with that deliberate, quiet intensity that made people think twice before breathing too loud.

But Katherine?

She didn’t freeze because of his presence.

She froze because of his tie.

It wasn’t black.

It wasn’t gray.

It was navy.

Dark. Silky. Just enough shine to make a statement.

A subtle, deliberate departure from his grayscale armor.

Her brain short-circuited for half a second.

And then he smiled at her.

Not a big smile. Not even a full one.

But enough.

Like he was in on a joke she hadn’t told yet.

“Good morning, Miss Brown,” he said, taking the seat beside her.

“You’re wearing color,” she whispered, scandalized.

He nodded solemnly. “Bold choices for bold presentations.”

“I feel violated. And also... proud.”

Ten minutes in, and the room was already on edge.

Katherine stood at the front, slide clicker in hand, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

The PowerPoint opened with a soft chime and a title that read:

“Let’s Make Money Look Sexy.”

Chairwoman Talbot blinked.

One of the investors actually coughed into his water.

Katherine grinned.

“Welcome, everyone. What you’re about to see today may change how you think about financial growth, brand positioning, and the deep, spiritual power of a well-timed GIF.”

She clicked.

Slide 1: A Venn diagram with three circles — “Profit,” “Passion,” “Pizzazz.”

The overlap was labeled: “Magic.”

Talbot made a noise like a dying printer.

Sebastian sat, arms crossed, watching with that unreadable expression of his.

Except now… it was different.

He wasn’t correcting her.

Wasn’t sighing. Wasn’t subtly tapping notes into his tablet.

He was just… watching.

And then — leaning forward.

Interested.

Amused?

Impressed?

Slide 5 featured a chart with dancing dollar signs.

Slide 7 was animated. It involved a cat meme.

Slide 9 said, in large bold font: “We’re not here to blend in. We’re here to stand out, cash in, and sparkle doing it.”

“Miss Brown,” interrupted one of the directors finally, “Are you suggesting we use humor and... emotion in our investor-facing campaign?”

“I’m suggesting we stop being a Wall Street ghost and start being a brand that breathes,” Katherine replied.

Her tone? Firm. Sharp. Full of purpose.

“But yes. Also humor.”

There was a stunned silence.

And then a second voice:

“What does Mr. Mason think?”

All heads turned.

Katherine held her breath.

This was the moment he’d rein her in. Bring out the realism. Do damage control.

But he didn’t.

Sebastian slowly stood.

He smoothed his jacket.

And then — with terrifying calm — said:

“I think she’s right.”

A chair creaked.

Talbot stared.

Someone whispered “what.”

Sebastian’s voice was even. Measured. Controlled.

“But more importantly,” he continued, “I think Miss Brown’s vision may finally do what our last three campaigns failed to — engage.”

Katherine’s eyebrows nearly launched off her face.

He sat back down, folded his hands, and said nothing more.

The rest of the presentation blurred past like a surreal dream.

Questions came. She answered. Some with stats, some with sass.

The room buzzed with conflict, confusion — and undeniable curiosity.

When she finished, the applause was hesitant.

But it was there.

Outside the boardroom, as the door clicked shut behind them, Katherine turned to Sebastian with wide eyes.

“You—what—did you hit your head this morning?”

He smirked. “No. But I did consider the value of strategic risk.”

“You didn’t criticize me once.”

“I didn’t need to.”

“You wore navy.”

“It’s still technically neutral.”

She blinked. “You backed me up.”

“You were right.”

“But... why?”

He didn’t answer right away.

And then, after a long pause, he looked at her — really looked.

And said quietly, “Because something’s changed.”

She didn’t speak.

Didn’t know what to say.

So she laughed.

Awkward. Light. A shield, like always.

“Well, don’t get used to it. Next time, I might pitch glitter-infused investor reports.”

“I’d approve the prototype,” he said.

And then he walked away.

She stood there a moment longer.

And for the first time in a long time...

She didn’t know if she was running the show anymore.

Because if Sebastian Mason was starting to believe in her…

Then maybe she had to start believing in herself too.