Chapter 2 - The Closed Door
Z
The air in my office suddenly felt terribly thin. Adrian Kane did not visit middle-management creative directors in their offices. He summoned them. His presence in my doorway was the corporate equivalent of finding a snow leopard in your kitchen—magnificent, dangerous, and entirely out of place.
He closed the door behind him. The satisfying click of the latch echoed through the small space, and I instantly knew that outside, a minimum of twelve text threads had just been created.
"Mr. Kane," I started, my mind racing through the Bellamy presentation to find whatever fatal flaw I had missed. "If this is about the regional adaptation budget for Chicago—"
"It isn't about Chicago," he interrupted smoothly. He moved to the small window overlooking the avenue, slipping one hand into his pocket. He looked like a man who owned the city, which, in many ways, he did. "The Bellamy board was thoroughly impressed. You secured the account. But that is not why I am here."
I swallowed hard. "If it’s about Mia again, I can only reiterate my apologies. It was a complete lapse in professional judgment."
Adrian turned to face me. The gray-blue of his eyes caught the afternoon light, sharp and unreadable. "Stop apologizing. Your daughter is charming, and I haven't built a block tower in three decades. I am here to discuss Marcus Vance."
Marcus Vance. Vice President of Strategy. The man who had pretended to study his shoes in the hallway earlier.
"Marcus?" I asked, confused. "He had nothing to do with the Bellamy creative."
"Exactly," Adrian said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying the weight of a warning. "Which is why he is currently in his office drafting a memo to the executive committee suggesting that your campaign was merely an execution of his broader strategic vision. He intends to present himself as the architect of today’s success."
Anger flashed hot in my chest. "He didn't write a single word of that pitch. My team worked through the weekend for a month."
"I know that. You know that." Adrian took a slow step closer. "But Marcus understands corporate optics. And he noticed something else today. He noticed my willingness to accommodate your personal situation. In the viper's nest of this agency, leniency is easily weaponized as favoritism."
I felt the blood drain from my face. "He's going to use my daughter against me to steal the credit?"
"He will try," Adrian corrected softly. "I am telling you this so you can prepare. Document every email, every timestamp of your team's creative process. When the strike comes, I want you to have an arsenal ready."
I stared at him, bewildered by the intervention. "Why are you telling me this? You're the CEO. You could just shut Marcus down."
May you like
Adrian looked at me for a long moment. "Because you are Ethan's widow. And because I don't build on playgrounds, nor do I let my best people get pushed off the swings."
Before I could ask how he knew Ethan, he turned and opened the door, stepping back into the chaos of the agency as if nothing had happened.
