Chapter 35: The Pink Tsunami

Los Angeles — Friday, 8:46 AM

The office was quieter than usual. The kind of quiet that came before either a fire drill… or a scandal.

Katherine walked in, latte in hand, and immediately noticed the stares.

Not the usual “Oh God, what did she wear today” stares. No. These were different.

Frozen. Confused. Disbelieving.

Even the intern with the tragic mustache didn’t offer his daily “Hey Miss Brown!” wave.

Instead, Monica was already pacing in front of her glass office like a stockbroker mid-crash, whisper-yelling into her phone.

Katherine glanced around. Her heart thudded.

Something was off.

Really off.

"Good morning, I guess?" she muttered, walking toward her desk — only to find a sleek, cream-colored envelope resting on top of her keyboard.

It wasn’t addressed. Just her name, printed in small, serif font on thick cardstock.

She opened it.

And read.

Then reread.

Then blinked and read again.

---

Effective immediately, Katherine Brown is appointed Interim Creative Lead, Los Angeles Division.

Her coffee slipped from her hand and hit the carpet with a thud. Thankfully, the lid stayed on.

"Oh. My. God," she whispered, eyes wide.

Monica’s door slammed open behind her.

"You have GOT to be kidding me," she hissed, marching forward like a storm in heels.

Katherine instinctively stepped back.

Monica waved the exact same envelope in the air. "This is a joke, right? RIGHT?! Who in their right mind would —"

She stopped.

Because Mr. Ellison — head of Los Angeles Branch operations — had just walked in.

And he looked like someone had told him his car had been stolen by a unicorn.

He held up a copy of the exact same letter. “Did you know about this?”

Katherine slowly shook her head. “Not until... now.”

Behind her, someone whispered, “Holy sh —”

Monica rounded on Mr. Ellison. "This is outrageous. She’s been here for, what, few weeks? And you think she’s qualified to lead the entire creative department?"

“I didn’t approve this," he snapped, “This came directly from Mason’s office.”

Silence.

Katherine blinked again, still holding the letter like it might vanish.

And then…

She smiled.

---

Later — 10:03 AM

Katherine stood on the rooftop of the building, wind in her curls, trying not to scream from the overwhelming cocktail of shock, amusement, and adrenaline rushing through her.

She pulled out her phone.

Flipped it to selfie mode.

And hit Record.

"Okay. So. This is real. Apparently, I’m leading now? Like, creative LEAD leading. And I just watched Monica nearly faint. Honestly, 10/10 drama. You would’ve loved it."

She paused, grinned wider.

"I can’t believe you did this, Sebastian. You absolute lunatic."

She blew a kiss at the screen, then ended the recording.

Sent.

---

New York — 1:08 PM (EST)

Sebastian stood by the window, one hand in his pocket, sipping black coffee as the chaos of Wall Street buzzed outside.

His phone lit up.

1 New Video Message from Katherine.

He tapped it.

The video played.

And the moment she blew that kiss and said his name, something inside him snapped — not with rage this time, but a kind of wild satisfaction.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"Lunatic, huh?"

He turned toward his desk.

Opened his laptop.

And started drafting his next restructuring order — this time for the global branding team.

---

Los Angeles — 11:12 AM

Katherine stood at the front of the glass-walled meeting room, staring down at a long mahogany table filled with the most uncomfortable-looking creatives she had ever seen.

Some refused to meet her eyes.

Some did — but with expressions that clearly said: Why you?

She took a breath. Then another.

She could do this. Probably. Maybe.

"Alright," she began, clapping her hands once. It echoed too loud. "Let’s get started."

Silence.

Even the air conditioning hummed in protest.

“So,” she said, pacing slowly, “we’ve been a little... tight lately. Stiff. Our campaigns have become too predictable. Too beige. Too safe.”

She stopped at the end of the table.

“So I’m going to ask you something insane,” she said, grinning, trying to soften the nerves building in her stomach. “For the next week — no beige. No safe. Go wild. Surprise me.”

Still nothing.

A hand cautiously rose.

It was Dave, the art director. Mid-thirties. Permanent flannel. Trust issues.

"Are you serious? After the inflatable flamingo incident?"

A few nervous chuckles broke the tension.

Katherine smiled wider. “Especially after that.”

Another voice chimed in. "But… Monica?"

Katherine leaned in, lowering her voice like a secret. “Leave Monica to me.”

And for the first time since she stepped into that meeting room, someone actually smiled.

---

New York — 2:16 PM (EST)

The conference room at Mason Equity Group was on fire. Figuratively.

Twelve members of the Board of Directors sat in sharp suits, their voices rising over each other like angry violins in a collapsing orchestra.

“She’s a junior!”

“L.A. isn’t a playground, it’s a branch with $92 million revenue last quarter!”

“He promoted her without consultation! It’s a violation of protocol!”

“He’s lost it!”

Only one chair remained empty.

Until the tall, perfectly dressed figure of Sebastian Mason entered, without a hint of urgency.

He placed his phone on the polished table and took his seat at the head.

The room fell quiet — but only for a breath.

“Sebastian,” barked Mr. Holloway, head of finance, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Sebastian slowly adjusted his cufflinks.

“Rewriting the rules,” he said simply.

Twelve jaws clenched.

“Without board approval?”

He smirked. “I never said I’d ask for it.”

Mrs. Vance, PR chief, leaned forward. “You’re destabilizing the entire L.A. team for what? Some —some — chaotic artist with a big mouth and no management experience?”

Sebastian arched one brow. “Katherine Brown is the only person in that building with the balls to light a creative fire under our dying campaigns.”

Holloway snapped, “And when it all burns to ash, who takes the fall?”

Sebastian leaned back, calm as a hurricane’s eye.

“I do.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

Then Sebastian stood. “Meeting adjourned. Unless one of you has something better to contribute.”

No one spoke.

He took his phone, turned on his heel, and walked out — lips twitching into a quiet, dangerous smile.

---

Los Angeles — 6:47 PM

The office was slowly emptying out. Just a few exhausted warriors remained behind — coffee in one hand, mouse in the other, backs slouched in defeat. Katherine sat at what she now jokingly called her “throne”: the giant inflatable flamingo she had refused to remove, despite repeated warnings from Mr. Ellison.

She had just finished the final adjustments to the upcoming pitch and was about to pack up when her phone lit up with a notification.

Courier: Package for Ms. Brown. Left at reception.

Her brows lifted.

She headed down, and the moment she saw it — her breath hitched.

A large black box. Matte. Tied with a minimalist, wine-colored ribbon.

So Sebastian.

She opened it right then and there.

Inside was… a miniature model of the Los Angeles office. Crafted in exquisite detail. But more than that — in one of the corner rooms sat a tiny figurine of Katherine herself, red coffee cup in hand, oversized headphones, and a grin wide enough to split her face. Next to her, of course — the ridiculous pink flamingo.

Tucked inside was a handwritten note:

"If they want to play safe — let them. You were made for chaos that creates miracles."

— S.M.

Katherine let out an unfiltered laugh — the kind that startled the receptionist. Then she pulled out her phone, framed the flamingo and her new desk-toy kingdom, and started recording.

“Okay, Mason… I don’t know what the hell this is —actually no, I do. This is psychotic. And completely perfect. I’m keeping it in the office. Let everyone see what madness looks like when it wins.”

She ended the clip with a wink and a kiss blown to the camera.

Then sent it to Sebastian.

---

New York — 9:04 PM (EST)

Sebastian was still at his office on the 29th floor, sleeves rolled up, papers organized with surgical precision.

He tapped on the notification.

The moment the video opened — Katherine’s face filled the screen. Laughing. Radiating.

He watched in silence. And then… he smiled.

Not the usual cold tilt of the mouth. A real one. Warm, wide, dangerous.

But before the moment could settle, his second phone buzzed.

“Sebastian, the board called an emergency vote. Eight of the twelve already signed the petition. They’re moving to remove you. Tomorrow morning.”

There was silence on the line.

A pause.

Then Sebastian slowly exhaled.

“They want war?”

He rose from his chair. Took off his jacket. Loosened his cuffs.

“Fine. They’ll get one.”

---

9:47 PM — Mason International Private Server

Twelve tiny squares lit up on the screen. Twelve board members, some red-faced, some furious, others nervously adjusting their glasses. One by one, they voiced their discontent. The new Los Angeles structure. The lack of approval. The appointment of that girl as acting lead.

Sebastian appeared last.

“This is the last time you treat this company like it belongs more to you than it does to me.”

“You don’t have the authority to make unilateral decisions —” Mrs. Vance began.

He cut her off.

“I do. I built this company from nothing. I pulled it out of the dirt while you were trading third-rate bonds in thrift-store suits. And I let you sit at my table because I believed in partnership.”

He leaned forward.

“But you forgot who I am.”

He tapped a key.

Suddenly, the screen changed — dossiers appeared. On every board member. Financial discrepancies. Backdoor deals. Deleted emails. Photographs.

Complete silence.

Frozen, stunned faces.

“You want to take me down?” he said softly, almost kindly.

“Then remember: if I fall — I’m taking you all with me.”

And just like that — he exited the call.

---

Later that night — Somewhere between New York and L.A.

The laptop chimed.

Katherine, wrapped in a hoodie and sipping from a giant mug, tapped Accept. The screen lit up — and there he was.

Sebastian Mason.

Hair tousled, a hint of a shadow on his jaw, wearing a faded black T-shirt. Not the CEO of a global empire tonight — just a man looking at the woman who’d turned his world on its head.

“You look like trouble,” he said with a crooked smile.

“I am trouble,” she shot back. “You started it.”

He laughed — genuinely, warmly.

“I saw the video. The way you handled the team… The flamingos, the chaos, the speech,” he said, eyes glinting. “It was a mess. But it was your mess. And I couldn’t stop watching.”

Katherine grinned. “And here I thought I’d be fired by sundown.”

Sebastian leaned closer to the camera, lowering his voice just a little.

“Fired? No. Promoted, maybe. But don’t get greedy — you’re still only running the L.A. branch.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks, boss.”

A beat.

Then he added, voice softer:

“I mean it. You brought something into that office today that no one else could. Energy. Guts. Life. They didn’t expect you to survive — let alone lead.”

Katherine blinked. Her throat tightened.

“And now,” Sebastian continued, “I owe you something.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

He smirked. “Open the email I just sent.”

She clicked. Gasped.

Inside was a plane ticket. First class. One-way. To New York.

“And?” she asked, breathless.

“There’s a suite waiting,” he said. “And a weekend I plan to steal from the rest of the world. No boardrooms. No flamingos. Just you and me.”

Katherine didn’t speak for a second. Then smiled through the tears building in her eyes.

“Sebastian…”

“I’m not done,” he said, leaning back. “The board tried to push me out today. They called an emergency vote.”

Her heart dropped. “What? Are you okay?”

He smiled. A dangerous one this time.

“They thought I’d stay quiet. That I’d play by their rules. But I reminded them — I am the rules.”

Her breath caught.

“And what happens now?”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Now, Katherine, the company changes. Starting Monday… it becomes something they never saw coming.”

She stared at him — her hurricane of a heart finally still.

“You scare me sometimes,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Good. Because I’m just getting started.”

And across the screen, as the night wrapped around them like a secret, two souls — one wild, one ruthless — smiled at the storm they’d become.

---