Chapter 51: Power Suit, Public Gaze

The second Katherine stepped into the building, she knew something was off.

It wasn’t the too-cold blast of AC in the lobby. Or the cheery “Good morning, Miss Brown!” from the intern she didn’t remember hiring.

No. It was the way everyone turned to look.

Like a wave.

Like she was the opening act.

Or the scandal.

Her heels clicked across the polished floor as she made her way toward the elevator, each step echoing louder than it should have. A security guard nodded. Two assistants whispered. Someone tried to pretend they were looking at their phone — but Katherine could feel their gaze.

She adjusted the strap of her powder-blue bag and kept walking. Chin up. Smile ready. Boss mode on.

Still, as the elevator doors slid shut behind her, she muttered under her breath:

“Okay. What the hell.”

---

On the 23rd floor, the air was no better.

Her assistant, Sophie, met her at her office door with a sheepish smile and… was that a printed tabloid in hand?

Katherine narrowed her eyes. “You better be holding that for shredding.”

Sophie's cheeks turned pink. “It’s for… context.”

Katherine snatched it from her. The headline was loud. Obnoxious.

“THE CEO AND THE SPARK: WHO IS MISS BROWN REALLY?”

Page 6: See the barefoot brunch dance that broke the internet.

She stared at the photo. Her own flushed face. Her laugh frozen mid-air. Her hand in Sebastian’s. Her bare foot clearly on the pavement.

“Oh. Perfect,” she deadpanned. “They caught my good side. You know — the one with no shoes and questionable judgment.”

Riley tried not to laugh. “There’s also a meme version. Circulating fast.”

“Of course there is.”

---

By 9:06 a.m., Katherine had her laptop open, her coffee reheated, and her team gathered around the long conference table in the glass-walled boardroom.

The Monday sync. Normally casual. Efficient. Friendly.

Today?

Tense.

She felt it before anyone spoke — the hesitation, the stiffness in posture, the way eyes darted between her and the giant window behind her, as if unsure where to look.

Someone cleared their throat. Someone else scribbled in a notebook like they were auditioning for Broadway.

Katherine folded her hands calmly. “Alright. Let’s jump in.”

Silence.

Then finally — Aisha, her usually confident marketing assistant, spoke up, voice too-light:

“So… how’s your morning been, Katherine?”

The question hung in the air. Weighted.

Katherine smiled, sweet as sugar laced with arsenic.

“Productive. Yours?”

Aisha blinked. “Oh. Uh, fine.”

Ben, the most talented guy from operations, chuckled under his breath. “Saw the brunch video. Didn’t know we were hiring celebrities now.”

There it was.

Katherine turned slowly. “We’re not.”

Ben held up his hands in mock surrender. “Just saying — PR is eating it up. Social engagement’s gone wild. You and Mason are trending.”

Another teammate added with a smirk, “I mean… Miss Brown, right? Has a ring to it.”

More laughter.

Not cruel. But close enough to sting.

Katherine leaned forward, voice dropping a degree. “If anyone here would like to discuss my personal life instead of this quarter’s projections, I suggest you clear your calendar — and maybe your desk.”

The room fell silent.

She didn’t blink.

Then — just as tension peaked — she smiled. Cool. Controlled.

“Great. Now that we’re aligned, Ben, walk us through the staffing issue at the Culver branch.”

Ben gulped, sat straighter. “Right. Yes. Of course.”

---

By the end of the meeting, Katherine had done what Katherine always did — lead.

Clear decisions. Delegated tasks. Two deadlines moved forward.

No one said “Miss Brown” again.

But as she stepped out into the hallway, still crisp in her wrap blouse and heels, she found Sophie waiting nervously by her office door.

“There’s someone here to see you,” she said.

Katherine raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me it’s not my ex. Or a fashion blogger.”

Sophie half-grimaced. “It’s… PR. From corporate.”

Katherine sighed. “Of course it is.”

---

The woman waiting in her office was all angles and polish — sleek ponytail, structured blazer, tablet already open and glowing with thumbnails from some presentation Katherine had no intention of watching.

"Miss Brown," she said, standing. "I'm Talia from Corporate PR. I won't take much of your time."

Katherine smiled coolly, closing the door behind her. "You already are."

Talia didn’t flinch. "I’ll get to the point, then."

She tapped her tablet, spinning it toward Katherine.

On screen: mockups. Drafts of campaigns. Her face. Her name.

One tagline read:

‘Modern Leadership. Human Connection. Brown Means Business.’

Katherine blinked. “That is… disturbingly catchy.”

Talia smiled like a wolf in heels.

“You’re resonating. The brunch photos. The sidewalk moment. The CEO romance — it’s gold. You and Mr. Mason are already on people’s radar. We just want to guide the narrative.”

Katherine crossed her arms. “Guide it where?”

“To something inspirational. Aspirational. Something we can use in campaigns — equity, innovation, heart. You’re the perfect case study. A leader who loves boldly.”

That last part landed like a slap.

Katherine stayed still for a beat, then quietly said, “This is my life, not a brand deck.”

Talia didn’t even blink. “It’s both now.”

---

As soon as the door shut behind her, Katherine stood motionless in the center of the room, heart thudding in her throat.

She didn’t know if she wanted to throw something or scream.

Instead — she grabbed her phone.

Sebastian.

She hit call.

One ring. Two. Three —

“Mason.”

His voice, slightly muffled. Background noise — a rolling suitcase, an announcement overhead.

Katherine exhaled, her voice sharp but steady. “Where are you?”

“A terminal. Gate 47. Vegas branch check-in, remember?”

She didn’t answer at first. Just stared at the mockup still burned into her brain. Her name in bold font. Her face beside his.

“I just got pitched as a campaign,” she finally said.

Sebastian didn’t ask who. Didn’t need to.

He sighed, low and tired. “Let me guess. Talia?”

“She had slides.”

“I bet she did.”

A pause. The sound of a boarding call in the background.

“They’re building a version of us,” Katherine said. “And they want me to say yes.”

Sebastian was quiet. Then:

“What do you want?”

“I want…”

She stopped. The words sat bitter on her tongue.

“I want to be good at my job. I want people to respect me. Not watch me like I’m the finale of some corporate rom-com.”

Sebastian’s voice softened. “They already respect you. And if they don’t, they’ll learn to. Because you don’t just exist in this company — you lead it.”

Katherine swallowed.

“I don’t want to be reduced to someone’s ‘spirited woman,’” she said, quietly. “Not even yours.”

A beat.

“Then don’t be,” he said. “Don’t let them. Say no.”

She looked out her window. L.A. shimmered under the noon sun.

“And what if it makes things harder for you?”

Sebastian laughed — that dry, familiar sound she was already addicted to.

“Katherine Brown,” he said, “I once watched you argue a room full of men out of a twelve-million-dollar mistake. You think I’m scared of PR?”

---

Fifteen minutes later, Katherine walked back into her office, spine straight, heels deliberate.

Talia from PR was still there, tapping away on her tablet like the decision had already been made.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Katherine said lightly, setting her phone down with a soft click.

Talia looked up. “Have you had a moment to think?”

“I have.”

Katherine circled behind her desk, slow, deliberate. “And here’s what I’ve decided.”

She paused.

“You can use my name. My image. My story. But on my terms.”

Talia blinked. “Which means…?”

Katherine sat, laced her fingers together, and smiled — calm, composed, absolutely in charge.

“It means I’ll approve every word that comes out under my name. No ‘spirited woman’ tropes. No rom-com fairy tales. No glittery feminism with no actual power behind it.”

Talia tilted her head. “That may slow us down.”

Katherine shrugged. “Then walk faster.”

Silence.

Then — the tiniest smile from Talia. Not warm, but… respectful.

“Understood.”

As the PR exec left, Katherine finally allowed herself a full exhale. She turned her chair toward the window, cityscape sprawling before her like an open challenge.

Her phone buzzed.

Sebastian:

Whatever you told them — I bet it was hot. 🔥

Katherine grinned. Typed back:

You’re not wrong. Now go save Vegas. And don’t flirt with anyone who wears a badge. 😏

A pause.

Sebastian:

Only if she’s you.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered long after the screen went dark.

Outside her office, the usual Monday chaos returned — calls ringing, people hurrying, someone spilling coffee in a rush to the elevator.

Inside, Katherine Brown leaned back in her chair, finished her (finally warm) coffee, and thought:

Let them watch. I’m not afraid of the spotlight.

---