Chapter 3

I opened my computer. In the folder were eight versions of the proposal, labeled from V1 to V8.

Each one represented a complete overhaul, and every single one had been revised with painstaking care.

I opened V8, the latest version. The client's feedback was dense with annotations, packed tightly across every margin.

I started going through the comments one by one. Then I stopped, because I realized there was a problem.

Back in version V6, Charles had made it clear in his feedback that the primary color scheme needed to be deep blue, following a high-end, business-oriented direction.

I made the changes accordingly.

But by the time I got to V7, Richard's revision notes said the client wanted to switch to warm tones instead, something more approachable and friendly.

I found it odd at the time, but I didn't press the matter. After all, clients changing their minds is hardly out of the ordinary.

Then came V8, and the direction shifted yet again, this time back to a dark palette, though not deep blue, but charcoal gray.

Across every iteration, the creative direction kept swinging from one extreme to another.

Back then, I simply put it down to an indecisive client.

But now, I've pulled up all eight rounds of feedback, laid them out side by side, and started comparing.

That was when I froze because Charles' direct feedback after V6 was all there in the group chat, plain as day.

His exact words: [V6 is on the right track. Build on this and refine the details.]

So why did V7 suddenly pivot to warm tones?

That revision didn't come from Charles in the group. It came from Richard, sent to me privately.

He told me, "The client reached out to me offline. They want to change direction."

At the time, I had no reason to be suspicious. He was my direct supervisor. But now, I can't help but question it.

I scrolled further back through the chat logs.

Between V3 and V4, there had been another major directional shift, and again, Richard had relayed it privately.

Charles' words in the group didn't match what Richard had passed on to me.

I kept going. Between V2 and V3, there was another one. Again, Richard communicated the changes in private, and again, the group feedback contradicted what he had told me.

That made three times. Across eight versions, he changed the direction on three separate occasions, and every single time, he drove another wedge between the client and me.

My hands started to shake, not out of fear, but from the anger that came from being treated like a pawn for three months.

I looked up toward Richard's office. The door was shut, and through the glass partition I could see him on the phone with a perfectly calm look on his face.

I stayed where I was.

The thought circled in my mind more than once, and I told myself to keep calm, that I couldn't just jump to a conclusion based on two messages in a chat log.

Maybe Charles really had changed his mind in private, and what he said in the group just didn't match what he had told Richard directly.

Then again, that kind of behavior wouldn't be unusual for a client, saying one thing while actually wanting the opposite.

But twice in a row? And both times, the message conveniently came through Richard?

I bit my lip. There was no point dwelling on it now. I needed to finish this proposal.

Tomorrow I would have to sit there and take whatever Fordwell Group threw at me, so tonight I had to at least come up with something.