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Chapter 9: Controlled Chaos (Emphasis on “Chaos”)
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2025-06-21 04:20:28If Mason Equity Group had a weather system, today was a tropical storm warning with 40% chance of glitter.
Because Katherine Brown had returned to her full, unapologetic self. She entered the office at 8:59 AM sharp, armed with a triple-shot oat milk cappuccino and the energy of a caffeinated raccoon. Her blazer was neon yellow. Like, highlighter-level yellow. The kind that made walls flinch. Her earrings were lightning bolts. Her heels clicked like declarations of war. “Morning, sunshines!” she sang, spinning once by the elevators. Cara visibly recoiled. “Oh no. You’ve had three shots again.” “Four,” Katherine corrected. “One was emotional support.” At her desk, she slapped down a stack of sticky notes, opened a G****e Doc titled "Genius Ideas That Might Get Me Fired," and started typing like her keyboard owed her money. Marketing was alive. Electric. Slightly scared. And across the room, inside his glass fortress of solitude, Sebastian Mason blinked once, then twice, watching her as if trying to determine whether she was a fever dream or an actual employee on payroll. She was humming something. Loudly. Possibly Britney Spears. “She’s back,” mumbled Jenkins, passing by. “God help us,” said Cara. --- By noon, Katherine had: Rewritten two taglines in rhyme. Installed a lava lamp next to the water cooler. Declared Tuesday “No-Spreadsheet Day” (not legally binding). Referred to Jenkins as “Data Daddy” in an email. It was barely lunchtime and the team was half-terrified, half-thrilled. And Sebastian? He hadn’t said a word. Not a single scolding comment. No dry remark. No eyebrow arch of death. He even — and this shook Cara to her core — passed by the creative team and didn’t flinch when Katherine called a chart “sexy.” Something had shifted. --- At 3:45 PM, Katherine burst into the hallway with an armful of printouts and a dangerous look in her eye. “Sebastian!” she called. Silence. “Sebasssstian,” she sang, dragging out the syllables like it was a pet name. “I need your eyeballs.” A door creaked open. He appeared in the hallway with the grace of someone deeply regretting life choices. “Yes?” “Pitch idea,” she said, shoving papers into his hands. “It’s bold. It’s risky. It might terrify our investors.” He flipped through it. Then looked up. “...You named this campaign ‘Profit is Sexy’?” “I’m telling you — numbers never looked hotter.” Pause. He glanced again at the materials. “Your ROI graph is in the shape of a heart.” “Exactly. Emotional analytics. Very 2025.” He blinked slowly. “You put eyelashes on the bar chart.” “She’s flirty.” There was a moment. He didn’t sigh. He didn’t lecture. He just handed the papers back and said: “Fix the typo on page two.” She gawked. “That’s it?” He shrugged. “Your chaos has... pattern.” Katherine narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Was that a compliment?” “Statistical observation.” “Compliment with a tie.” “I’m taking my coffee break.” He turned and walked away. But she saw it. The corner of his mouth. It twitched. --- At 5:20 PM, Katherine sat cross-legged in her office chair, eyes dancing over a brainstorm doc while humming “Toxic.” Cara tiptoed over. “You okay?” “I’m glorious.” Katherine beamed. “I just pitched a campaign that used the phrase ‘fiscal foreplay’ and didn’t get fired.” Cara winced. “That’s... progress?” “I think I’m taming the beast.” “He’s literally standing behind you.” Katherine froze. Swiveled. Sebastian was there. Holding a mug. Looking unamused. She grinned. “Beast?” He arched a brow. “Fiscal foreplay?” “You read the whole doc?” He didn’t answer. She winked. “Don’t pretend it didn’t turn your spreadsheets into poetry.” He walked away. But slower. Almost... lingering. --- At 6:01 PM, the office had mostly emptied. The lighting was softer. The sounds gentler. Katherine walked past his glass office with a casual air. Just walking. Not looking. He was inside, sleeves rolled up, glasses on. Reviewing something on his screen. She stopped. Knocked once. He looked up. “Yes?” “Tomorrow,” she said. “There’s a pitch. Bold. Borderline illegal. Requires confidence, glitter, and possibly a unicorn.” His lips twitched. “Will HR approve?” “Nope.” A beat. He nodded once. “Send me the deck.” She blinked. “Seriously?” “I’ve survived worse.” “Name one.” He tilted his head. “Your presentation last Tuesday.” She clutched her heart. “Wounded!” Another pause. And then, softly — like an afterthought: “You’re doing well, Miss Brown.” It wasn’t flowery. It wasn’t loud. But it was real. Katherine blinked. Then recovered with a grin. “I know.” She walked away — faster this time, because that sentence had made her brain short-circuit a little. Behind her, Sebastian returned to his screen. But something — something small — had changed. He wasn’t dreading tomorrow. He was... curious. ---
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