Chapter 4

When Wanda slammed the proposal onto the conference table, I was hiding in the pantry, on the phone with my private banker.

"Mr. Carroll, your father just froze your Zurich account..."

"Hold on a second." I peeked through the glass door. Wanda's back was as tense as a bowstring. "I've got a situation here."

Ellery, the planning director, looked like he'd just swallowed spoiled milk. "Star Ads has been around for ten years, and this is the first time a client switched project leads at the last minute! Wanda, what exactly did you say to Mr. Bell yesterday?"

"I told him their model looked like a seal that got its head slammed in a door," Wanda replied, her voice chillingly calm. "Looking at it now, that's exactly what it looks like."

A collective gasp rippled through the office.

I nearly choked on my coffee.

Wanda's insults always hit the mark.

"Mr. Bell is our biggest client!" Ellery's bald head flushed red. "Now he's taking his five-million-dollar budget to a competitor. Are you going to own up to this?"

The finance girl suddenly shrieked, "Wait! The contract penalty clause..."

Everyone turned to the projection screen.

The contract, blown up fifty times on the screen, made it painfully clear: if we screwed up, we had to cover every cent Mr. Bell lost.

Five million dollars.

Her knuckles went white as Wanda dug her fingers into the edge of the table.

Suddenly, I remembered the email I'd gotten in the middle of the night.

The owner of our rival, Fresh Ads, was at the same yacht party as me just last month.

"Meeting's over!" Ellery barked.

He jabbed a finger at Wanda on his way out the door. "I want a solution on my desk by tomorrow, or you're out."

I glanced down at the group photo from the yacht party in my phone gallery.

Quietly, I took Fresh Ads' boss, Rusty Motley, off my block list.

*****

The men's room was the ultimate gossip hub.

I sat in the farthest stall, listening to two sales guys chatting as they washed their hands.

"Heard Wanda's team is getting axed?" one asked.

"Serves her right! Always walking around with her nose in the air. She even had the guts to tick off Mr. Bell..."

The toilet flushed, making them clam up instantly.

I strolled out of the stall, catching their ghostly faces in the mirror.

"Don't stop on my account," I said.

I pumped some soap into my hands. "I'm just picking up some office survival skills."

They bolted faster than a pair of spooked rabbits.

Flicking the water from my hands, I called up Rusty.

"Mr. Carroll?" Rusty's voice jumped about eight octaves. "What, uh, brings you to call me..."

"Heard you swiped Star Ads' big account?" I said, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder as I slowly grabbed a tissue to dry my hands. "Not bad. Got some guts."

"Just a small fry!" he said, practically groveling. "If you're interested, I can transfer the contract to your group right now."

"No need." I stared at the Star Ads logo on the tissue. "I'm just wondering—how much of a kickback did you give Mr. Bell?"

There was a dead silence on the other end for three full seconds.

"One million in cash, plus use of a villa in Bali," Rusty finally whispered. "You want a piece of the action, too, Mr. Carroll?"

I hesitated with my finger over the record button. Rusty was so dumb it almost made me feel guilty.

"Send me the transfer records by noon tomorrow," I said, straightening my collar in the mirror. "And by the way, every word you just said is getting sent to Star Ads' legal team."

As I hung up, I heard a phone hit the floor in one of the stalls.

*****

Wanda was asleep at her desk, head resting on her arms.

The blue light from her monitor cast soft shadows across her lashes, her right hand still resting on the mouse.

I gently and quietly draped my jacket over her shoulders.

Her screen was crowded with pages and pages of legal documents.

"Don't push yourself," I whispered to no one in particular. "Everything will be fine tomorrow."

Her lashes gave a sudden flutter.

I froze in place, waiting until I was sure she was still asleep.

Only then did I dare to reach out and gently move the strand of hair hanging by her lips.

Her desk drawer wasn't fully closed, and I caught a glimpse of a hospital bill sticking out.

Almost without realizing it, I pulled it out. The string of zeros at the end of the amount made my temples throb.

My phone buzzed suddenly.

It was a text from Andrew: [The chairman wants you back at headquarters immediately.]

I glanced at the dark circles under Wanda's eyes and shot back: [Tell him I'm busy tending to my pigs.]

*****

The next morning, Wanda was like a leopard ready to pounce at the meeting.

"According to Article 40 of the Anti-Unfair Competition Law..." Wanda started, her voice steady and sharp.

Just as she started speaking, the conference room door flew open.

Grover squeezed in, grinning from ear to ear, wrinkles everywhere. "Misunderstanding! It's all just a misunderstanding! We're sticking with Star Ads!"

The whole room went nuts.

Wanda's pen bled a spot of ink onto the paper.

"Oh, and..." Grover wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Fresh Ads just got reported for tax issues. Rusty is now cooperating with the investigation."

Everyone's eyes snapped to me.

I was too busy tearing into a sandwich, grease running down my fingers.

"What are you all staring at?" I mumbled, my mouth still full.

"I'm just from the countryside. I don't get any of this," I said, feigning ignorance.

Wanda narrowed her eyes at me.

*****

During lunch break, I cornered Andrew in the fire escape.

"Was that you?" I asked, waving my phone at him. "Rusty's offshore accounts suddenly getting investigated?"

He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses. "The chairman is very interested in your... poverty alleviation project."

"Tell him to mind his own business," I said, lowering my voice. "I'll take care of Wanda myself."

"Afraid not," Andrew replied, suddenly turning his tablet toward me. "Board wants you to handle the whole ad business merger—including Star Ads' acquisition review."

Wanda's profile popped up on the screen, a glaring red "Needs Optimization" stamped in the corner.

I grabbed his tie. "Touch her and you'll answer to me."

Andrew's expression didn't flicker. "Your father says—either you show up at headquarters tomorrow, or you can watch your team leader get the boot."

The fire door gave a sudden creak.

Wanda froze in the doorway, coffee cup in hand, her eyes landing on my hand clutching Andrew's tie.

"Sorry for interrupting." She took a half-step back, blinking. "Don't mind me."