TANGLED WITH MR BLACKWOOD

Lexi walked back to her desk with a steady pace and a storm in her chest. Her polished heels met the tiled floor with quiet resolve, the voices of Camille and Vanessa still echoing faintly in her mind.

> "She can't even walk past Mr. Blackwood without looking like a deer in heels."

Let them talk.

She didn't owe them explanations — only results.

As she settled into her chair, her team was already regrouping. Maya slid a folder toward her, eyes flicking sideways as if to say, I heard them too. Lexi gave a small smile, one that said I'm good, even if she wasn't.

Across the room, Camille stood with arms folded, observing like a hawk but saying nothing. Professional, poised — just not friendly. Vanessa, on the other hand, leaned against her desk with a smirk tugging at her glossed lips, clearly relishing the chance to get under Lexi's skin.

But Lexi didn't bite.

Instead, she opened her laptop and clicked into the shared project drive.

Time to get to work.

---

Tuesday | 9:04 AM – 6:47 PM

The next two days moved like a blur caught in fast-forward.

Lexi took the reins of her squad — Maya, Jared, Nina, and Tosin — and set up their shared action board. The conference room became their war room. Sticky notes, mood boards, printouts of venues, vendor quotes, budget estimates — it all sprawled across the glass wall like the blueprint of a battlefield.

"Okay," Lexi said, marker in hand. "Three themes. Keep it modern, timeless, and bold. Blackwood doesn't do cliché."

Maya pointed to a minimalist crystal and obsidian theme. "This could work for the high-net crowd."

Jared yawned. "You say that like you're not the one who suggested chandeliers shaped like upside-down wine glasses."

Everyone laughed, even Lexi — tension briefly broken.

They worked past coffee breaks and through background noise. Nina called vendors. Tosin triple-checked permits. Maya handled scheduling tweaks. Lexi refined concepts with a scalpel-like precision. Her team wasn't just showing up — they were locked in.

Camille passed by once or twice, her heels clicking with practiced grace. She never interrupted, never offered help — just glanced in, unreadable.

Vanessa popped her head in around noon. "Lexi, you forgot to cross-check last year's gala sponsors. You might want to fix that."

"I already did," Lexi replied without looking up.

"Oh. Great," Vanessa said, lips pursed, and walked off.

Wednesday | 10:12 PM

The office was nearly empty. Lexi was still there — hair tied in a low bun, blazer tossed over a chair, sleeves rolled up. Her face glowed blue from the screen as she clicked between spreadsheets, fine-tuning the budget forecast Mr. Blackwood had demanded.

No fluff. No delays.

Her eyes stung from staring too long. She leaned back and exhaled deeply.

Her concepts were locked — three solid, visually impactful ideas. The venue shortlist was tight, carefully selected with contingencies. The budget margin had been trimmed and optimized.

And still, a quiet question lingered beneath her calm.

Would it meet his standard?

Not fear. Just the sharp edge of wanting to get it right.

The building had gone still. Most lights were off, save for the soft hum from desk lamps and the glow of streetlights outside. Lexi stood, stretching her back with a quiet groan, then walked over to the whiteboard. She reviewed the pinned mood boards one more time — tracing the lines, adjusting a misplaced sticky note, recalibrating the feel of a table layout. Every detail mattered. Every choice had to reflect the precision Blackwood expected. And as silence pressed in, she found peace in the rhythm of it.

Her phone buzzed. Maya had sent her a meme of a cat typing furiously on a laptop with the caption:

 "Me pretending I understand corporate finance at 11 PM."

Lexi snorted quietly.

Maya: "You've got this, Lex. Seriously."

Lexi: "Hope so."

She closed her laptop at 12:03 AM. Packed everything. Her reflection in the darkened window caught her eye — tired but proud.

 "I'm not crashing. Not now."

Thursday | 10:18 AM – 10:58 AM

The floor buzzed more than usual that morning. Word had gotten around — Lexi Thompson had a solo update with the CEO.

The Blackwood Gala team glanced at her more than once. Some with curiosity. Others, with the sharpness of silent judgment.

She passed by Camille's desk on the way to the elevators. Camille didn't smile — didn't even try. Instead, she arched a brow and said lightly,

> "Big day. Let's hope all that note-taking pays off."

Lexi didn't flinch. "It will."

Camille's lips curved — not a smile, exactly. More like amusement laced with doubt.

Then she turned back to her screen like Lexi had never spoken.

Vanessa, nearby, muttered something under her breath with an eye-roll, but Lexi didn't bother catching it.

Maya gave her a thumbs-up and mouthed, You've got this.

Lexi wore a soft gray blouse tucked into high-waisted slacks, her makeup subtle, her mindset sharp. Everything she needed was in the folder she held — concepts, numbers, answers.

She passed the meeting rooms. Past the glass partitions. Past the whispers.

And into the elevator.

No team this time. No backup.

Just her and the work.

10:59 AM | Mr. Blackwood's Office – Top Floor

The elevator chimed as it opened into the executive floor, cold and quiet and intimidating. Lexi walked across the polished marble, every step echoing louder than it should.

She reached the tall black doors.

Knocked once.

Then pushed them open.

> She had d

one the work.

She had the numbers.

Now, it was time to face Mr. Blackwood.