It started with a ping. Then another. Then twelve more.
Sienna was elbow-deep in calendar chaos, trying to squeeze Julian into three overlapping client calls and a late-afternoon meeting with his lawyer, when her phone lit up like it was catching fire.
Subject: URGENT
From: CommsTeam@BlakeCo
CEO JULIAN BLAKE TRENDS ON X — FOR ALL THE WRONG REASONS.
She blinked.
Then opened the link.
Her breath caught.
The top tweet read:
"CEO Julian Blake calls creatives 'replaceable cogs' in leaked pitch meeting. Wow. So much for valuing talent."
Beneath it, a blurry video. Grainy. Zoomed in. But definitely Julian's voice.
And it didn't sound good.
Not at all.
Sienna's eyes scanned the replies.
"Is this who runs one of the biggest creative firms in the city?"
"Arrogant and out of touch."
"I guess we know how Blake & Co. treats their people."
#BlakeAndCancel
#CEOWithNoSoul
Oh. God.
⸻
Julian's office door was closed.
Not a good sign.
Sienna knocked once. Didn't wait.
He looked up from his phone — jaw clenched, eyes sharp.
"You saw it," he said.
She nodded. "You're trending. And not the fun kind."
He tossed the phone onto the desk with a hollow thud. "Someone recorded a closed-door meeting. That comment was out of context. We were talking about AI displacement, not devaluing people."
Sienna held back a sigh. "The internet doesn't care about context."
"I care about fact."
"Well," she said carefully, "right now, facts are losing."
Julian stood and began pacing. Controlled. Focused. Furious.
"We have a board review in two weeks. Nylo is finalizing their brand partnership. And this is the headline?"
Sienna hesitated. "Do you want me to—?"
"Call Laura in PR. Get her on the line now. And get me the raw footage from that meeting. I want to see who was recording."
She nodded and turned to go, but he stopped her again.
"And Cole?"
She looked back.
His tone was low. Frustrated. But… trusting.
"Stay close today."
⸻
Ten minutes later, the war room was assembled.
The PR head — Laura Mendes, always sharp in red lipstick and a dark blazer — walked in like she'd already rewritten the future. Behind her were two assistants, a crisis manager, and a junior publicist who looked like she might pass out.
Sienna took her usual spot by Julian's side, iPad in hand, pulse racing.
"We need a statement, Julian," Laura said. "Now."
"I'm not apologizing for something I didn't say."
"You didn't say creatives were disposable?"
"I said positions can be replaced. Not people. I was referring to automation strategy."
"Well, they didn't hear it that way."
Julian rubbed his jaw. "Then we make them listen."
"That's not how the court of public opinion works," Laura said. "They've already made up their minds. The only thing that shifts a headline now is narrative control."
Sienna leaned in slightly. "What if we own the conversation before they weaponize it further?"
Everyone looked at her.
She flushed but continued. "We take Julian's actual quote — the full one — and build a video around it. Not a statement. Not text. A live address. Authentic. Straight to camera. One minute. No edits."
Julian raised a brow. "And risk making it worse?"
"Or," she countered, "you show people the version of you that isn't behind a boardroom table. They need to see more than the CEO. They need to see the human."
Laura studied Sienna for a beat. Then nodded slowly. "It's risky. But… she has a point."
Julian's eyes met Sienna's.
Something shifted. Just slightly.
"I trust her," he said.
Her chest tightened.
⸻
An hour later, the camera crew was setting up in Julian's office. Not a studio. No script. Just a seat, a mic, and a carefully unbuttoned collar.
"You sure about this?" Sienna asked, adjusting the light behind him.
Julian glanced at her. "You're the one who suggested it."
"I know. I just didn't think you'd actually listen."
He smirked faintly. "You'll learn I only ignore bad ideas."
She moved closer, fixing the lapel of his jacket. Their hands brushed.
He stilled.
So did she.
For a moment, the chaos outside faded.
Sienna stepped back quickly. "You're good to go."
Julian exhaled, glanced at the lens, and nodded.
The red light blinked on.
And then… the CEO disappeared.
In his place sat a man. Tired. Honest. Steady.
"I want to address the clip circulating from a private internal meeting," he began. "Yes — those words came from my mouth. But what's missing is everything that came before and after."
He paused. No notes. No teleprompter.
"In that meeting, I was discussing how artificial intelligence is changing the industry — and the need for companies to adapt. I said roles will evolve. I never said people are replaceable. In fact, the core of Blake & Co. has always been — and will always be — the creatives. The thinkers. The storytellers."
His voice softened.
"I built this company because I believe in the value of ideas. And I believe in the people who bring them to life. That hasn't changed. It never will."
He looked directly into the lens.
"And I hope you'll give me the chance to prove it."
Cut.
⸻
An hour later, the video hit Blake & Co.'s official social platforms.
Within twenty minutes, the backlash slowed. Retweets shifted tone.
"Okay… this is the most human I've ever seen a CEO be."
"Respect. He owned it."
"Might just be PR, but it worked."
And then—
A call came in.
Nylo.
Sienna watched Julian take it. Silent. Listening.
Then—he smiled.
Tiny. Almost invisible.
But real.
He ended the call and looked at her. "They're staying."
She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Crisis averted."
"For now," he said. "You did well."
Their eyes held. Something electric passed between them.
"You did better," she said softly.
"I had the right support."
Sienna turned away, suddenly flustered. "Anyway. I'll… update the board with the metrics."
But before she could leave the room, Julian said quietly, "Cole."
She froze.
"I meant it. I trust you."
Her heart thumped loud enough to echo in her ears.
She turned, nodded once. "I know."
And walked out.
Because she couldn't let herself look at him any longer.
Not when the line between boss and something else had never felt so thin. Fff