Chapter 34: Strategic Chaos

Los Angeles — Wednesday, 9:04 AM

"Okay, team!" Katherine clapped her hands twice, loud enough to make three people flinch and one nearly spill their coffee.

She stood in the middle of the open-concept creative floor, a giant poster rolled under one arm and a unicorn mug full of tea in the other. Around her — silent desks, grey faces, and an oddly cold atmosphere where even the live plants looked... fake.

"Let’s talk energy, people! Let’s talk ideas! Let’s talk —why the hell are there still no moodboards on these walls?"

No one moved. One woman — Emily, Head of Visual Assets — blinked slowly, then turned back to her screen like Katherine was a hallucination. A guy in headphones raised a single finger without turning — not now.

Katherine bit her lip.

Not today, L.A. Not today.

"Alright. Guess what?" she smacked the rolled-up poster onto a table. "We're doing a mini rebranding session. Right now. You, me, and this wall — yes, the one with the fire escape plan taped to it."

Monica, the creative director, muttered from behind her:

"Miss Brown, this isn’t really how we —"

"Exactly," Katherine smiled. "Which is precisely why we’re changing it."

---

Meanwhile — New York, 12:14 PM

"— this is unacceptable, Mason!"

"You’re destabilizing the company’s image —"

"You showed up to a board meeting in sneakers and handed out stickers!"

Sebastian Mason lounged back in his chair, calmly sipping coffee from a mug that read "More Chaos, Less Bullshit." He wore dark jeans, no tie, and instead of a sleek leather briefcase, his desk was covered in colorful markers, blank name tags, and stickers labeled "Creative Beast" and "No Idea Is a Bad Idea (Except That One)."

The board of directors was furious. And he loved every second of it.

"Mr. Reynolds," he addressed the oldest member of the board, "do you remember our Q4 campaign last year?"

"Of course —"

"Did it trend?"

"Well, no —"

"Did people care?"

"...No."

"Exactly. Because you treated it like a PowerPoint funeral. Now, we’re trying something radical: joy."

He stood up, peeled a sticker from the table, and slapped it onto the front of his blazer.

“Inspired by Katherine,” he thought.

And for the first time in months, he smiled like the chaos was exactly where he belonged.

---

Los Angeles — Wednesday, 11:02 AM

"Is that a... is that a flamingo?"

Monica's voice had the tone of someone who had just witnessed a crime.

Katherine grinned like a guilty six-year-old standing next to a shattered vase. "Technically, it’s Sir Flamington the Third, and he’s a team morale officer."

In the far corner of the creative floor, a giant inflatable flamingo now stood in all its pink, unapologetic glory. One of its wings had a sticky note taped to it: “Creativity Lives Here.”

"You can’t be serious," Monica said, arms crossed so tightly they looked fused.

Katherine sipped from her unicorn mug with theatrical calm. "Dead serious. I did some studies — okay, fine, I read a blog post at 3 a.m. — but apparently bold color stimuli increase ideation. Plus, he’s adorable."

"This is not how we do things at Mason Equity, Miss Brown."

"Well, maybe that’s the problem."

That was it.

Monica’s jaw tensed. "The branch director wants to speak with you. Now."

"Perfect. I have thoughts," Katherine chirped, grabbing her notebook full of stickers, wild font experiments, and a sketch of a bear in sunglasses.

---

New York — 3:24 PM

"Mr. Mason, we’re calling for an emergency vote."

"Go ahead," Sebastian replied, entirely unfazed.

The boardroom was practically vibrating with tension. A massive screen projected phrases like “Leadership Crisis”, “Shareholder Confidence”, and “Executive Conduct Concerns.”

Sebastian, meanwhile, leaned against the glass window behind him, arms folded, watching them like a professor humoring students who hadn’t read the book.

"We have the majority. You’re outvoted."

A smirk flickered across his face. "Really? Are you sure about that?"

Silence. Then murmurs. Then chaos.

Because as it turned out, Sebastian had done something far more dangerous than show up in sneakers. He had dug.

Over the past 72 hours, he'd quietly launched his own internal audit — nothing illegal, nothing public… just enough to collect leverage. Financial inconsistencies. Conflicts of interest. One member with a suspicious Bahamas trip logged as "business development."

He hadn’t even needed to threaten them. Just a few carefully-worded reminders — anonymously delivered, of course.

By now, at least three of the board members were sweating.

"You want a vote?" he said, stepping forward. "Let’s vote on whether we continue to be boring relics of the early 2000s, or whether we lead this market like it actually belongs to us."

No one moved.

Sebastian reached into his pocket and slapped another sticker onto the conference table.

“Chaos. With Purpose.”

The room was silent.

He walked out with a grin.

---

Los Angeles — Wednesday, 11:36 AM

Katherine sat in a leather chair that was clearly designed to make its occupant feel small. Across from her, Mr. Ellison — regional branch director of Mason Equity LA — had clasped his hands so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

"This isn’t a playground, Miss Brown," he said, voice sharp, measured, and merciless. "This is a billion-dollar company, not a kindergarten where you parade around inflatable poultry and throw impromptu moodboard parties."

Katherine opened her mouth, then closed it. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks.

"Your methods are disruptive. Unprofessional. And frankly — embarrassing."

Sir Flamington was probably already deflated by now. She imagined Monica gleefully stabbing it with a letter opener.

"I was just trying to inspire some creativity," Katherine said, more quietly than usual. "The team is dead inside. They needed a push."

"And what they need is structure. Order. Not chaos."

If only he knew.

If only he knew who she messaged every night. Who sent her videos of himself holding her gummy bear stash hostage. Who kissed her forehead over Zoom just last Sunday. If only he knew who had taught her that sometimes, chaos is strategy.

But she couldn’t say any of that. Couldn’t say his name.

Because that name would set the whole damn building on fire.

Instead, she swallowed it down, straightened her spine, and said:

"I understand."

"You’ll remove the flamingo."

"Yes."

"You’ll consult with Monica before any more… theatrics."

"Yes, sir."

He dismissed her with a nod that felt like a blade.

And for the first time since arriving in LA, Katherine Brown felt… small.

---

New York — 3:48 PM

Sebastian scrolled through encrypted documents on his tablet, line by line, name by name. The information was clean, layered, dangerous. He didn’t need to destroy anyone — just keep them guessing. That was power.

Then, his phone buzzed.

Katherine: "Well. I got officially scolded. Flamingo is dead. Long live the flamingo. ☠️🦩"

Katherine: "Apparently I’m a disgrace to the Mason brand. If only they knew who’s been secretly feeding this chaos."

Katherine: "Don’t worry. I’ll behave. For now."

Sebastian read the texts once. Then again.

And something in him boiled.

He could see her face while she typed that. Could hear her bright voice trying to cover the tremble.

Disgrace?

To his brand?

The audacity.

He set the tablet down, jaw clenched, fingers twitching.

Then he stood up, pulled out his phone, and started typing back. Slowly. Deliberately.

Sebastian: "You’re not the disgrace. They are. I’m handling it."

Pause. Another message.

Sebastian: "Keep being you. And if anyone breathes wrong in your direction again — they’ll be unemployed before they finish their next sentence."

---

Los Angeles — Wednesday, 12:24 PM

Katherine stood by the now-vacant corner where Sir Flamington had proudly reigned less than an hour ago. The flamingo was deflated, folded in half like a sad pink towel, and shoved into a storage bin with the label “non-essential assets.”

Monica had watched her do it without saying a word.

Katherine knelt to tape shut the box, but her phone buzzed before she could stand. A message.

Two of them.

From him.

Her breath caught.

Sebastian: "You’re not the disgrace. They are. I’m handling it."

A second one followed almost instantly.

Sebastian: "Keep being you. And if anyone breathes wrong in your direction again — they’ll be unemployed before they finish their next sentence."

She stared at the screen, heat prickling behind her eyes — the kind of warmth that wasn't from anger or shame, but from being seen. Protected.

Katherine blinked quickly and let out a soft, shaky laugh.

"Jesus, Seb," she whispered. "You’re going to start a war."

She straightened up and opened Slack, typing something in the team chat:

Katherine: "Moodboards back up, team. Sir Flamington may have died, but the spirit of the beast lives on."

A pause.

And someone bring me glitter. I’m not done yet.

---

New York — Wednesday, 5:17 PM

The boardroom was colder than usual — not in temperature, but in tone.

Sebastian entered alone, dressed in an all-black suit, no tie, sleeves rolled up just enough to signal: I didn’t come here to play nice.

Ten members of the board sat around the table, each with tablets, coffee, and barely concealed disdain.

"Mr. Mason," began Mr. Reynolds, "we’ve reviewed your recent behavior and would like to formally propose an emergency motion to evaluate your continued role as acting CEO —"

"You’re welcome to vote," Sebastian cut in smoothly, "but before you do, I suggest reviewing the files I shared with each of you twenty minutes ago."

A few heads turned.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Screens unlocked.

And then — silence.

Ten different files. Ten different stories. None of them illegal. But all of them compromising.

Reynolds froze mid-scroll.

"How did you —"

Sebastian smiled, folding his hands.

"I built this company from the ground up. I know every floorboard, every firewall, every skeleton in every closet."

He leaned forward.

"You want to talk chaos? You haven’t even seen Act One."

Silence.

Then one by one, tablets closed. No vote. No protest.

Just fear, wrapped in polished politeness.

He stood and headed toward the door, tossing over his shoulder:

"Meeting adjourned."

---

New York — Later That Evening

Sebastian sat at his desk, lights dimmed, city stretching behind him like a battlefield he’d already conquered. His fingers hovered over a document on his screen: “Internal Structural Recommendations — LA Division.”

He clicked Edit.

Step One: Restructure creative oversight.

Step Two: Reassign Monica to international project coordination.

Step Three: Promote K. Brown to interim creative lead, L.A. office.

He typed one final note under Justification:

Because she sees what they’re too scared to even imagine.

He hit "Save."

Then, he picked up his phone and sent one final message.

Sebastian: "Hope you’re not done with the glitter yet."

---