TANGLED WITH MR BLACKWOOD

The morning after the venue walk-through carried a different kind of weight.

It wasn't nerves anymore—not the shaky-kneed kind Lexi used to feel. But there was still a flutter in her stomach as she stepped off the elevator and onto Floor 18, holding her tea in both hands. Her curls were pulled into a soft updo, her makeup subtle but professional, and her heels struck the tile like punctuation marks.

She had pulled off something remarkable. She knew it. But knowing and believing were two different muscles, and hers were still learning to flex. The air in the office felt lighter, calmer—but charged.

This time, people didn't glance at her with suspicion. They looked up from their desks. Some nodded. One intern from Finance even stood to adjust the hallway chair she always passed.

Lexi returned the nods with a composed blink, her tea still warm between her palms. Maya waited at her desk, ready and practically buzzing.

"There she is," Maya announced like a red carpet host. "The goddess returns."

Lexi chuckled softly. "You're being dramatic."

"You're being iconic," Maya whispered. "And the floor knows it. I saw someone trip just trying to walk past your energy."

Lexi took her seat, smoothing the hem of her blouse. "It was just a gala."

"It was the Blackwood gala," Maya replied, dragging her chair closer. "And you bodied it. Lex, I mean it. You didn't just survive—you took the space."

Lexi gave a small smile, her gaze drifting out the glass wall. For the first time, she didn't feel like she was clinging to her seat at the table. She had carved her initials into it.

But not everyone felt that way.

Camille sat several desks away, cloaked in her usual elegance. A tailored ivory blouse. Blood-red lipstick. Her movements were slow today. Too slow. Her expression was unreadable, her stare sharp.

Lexi didn't glance her way. She didn't need to.

Camille had seen the board meeting the day before—Lexi commanding the room as she gave a breakdown of the event, each slide crisp, each statistic tight. She'd watched as Ethan Blackwood nodded with subtle pride. She'd seen the way he leaned back in his seat and let Lexi speak, his pen still.

And it had burned.

Camille had trained for this life. Networked for it. Sacrificed for it. And Lexi had waltzed in with her expressive eyes, her mid-tier resume, and her stupid calm voice—and now everyone bowed.

Enough.

Camille opened her inbox and clicked a saved contact.

Nathan Greer.

Old money. Old morals. Old ideas. But still one of the most influential voices behind the company's investor board. The kind of man who frowned at change and whispered about optics.

She composed a message with precision.

 Nathan,

Would love a moment to discuss a few observations regarding the team's recent assignments. Just flagging early patterns.

Camille .

He responded within ten minutes. One line.

Meet me in the 16th floor lounge. Noon.

Camille smiled. Carefully reapplied her lipstick.

Then walked.

The lounge was dim and chilled, the kind of place where no one asked questions and everyone kept receipts.

Camille arrived early and crossed her legs with elegant ease. Nathan entered two minutes later, his tie still tight, tablet under one arm.

"Camille," he said, flat-toned. "What's this about?"

"Just something I thought you might want to be aware of," she said lightly. "Lexi Thompson."

He didn't blink.

"She's good. I'll admit it. But her growth here? Unusually fast. The gala? It was assigned... rather conveniently."

Nathan's mouth tightened. "Are you implying favoritism?"

Camille tilted her head. "I'm implying that leadership optics matter. Especially if someone is being elevated for reasons unrelated to merit."

He gave a cool nod. "I'll keep that in mind."

Which meant: This will be talked about.

Camille left feeling smug.

But what she didn't know was that Nathan forwarded her message within the hour.

To Ava.

With the subject line: Concerns.

Ava read it once. Then again.

Her pulse spiked. Her jaw clenched.

Camille had crossed the line. Not just rivalry now—this was a formal attempt to discredit Lexi by accusing her of being favored by the CEO.

And worse? She took it to a board advisor.

Ava didn't hesitate.

She forwarded the message to Ethan with only one sentence:

> She's trying to start a fire. Just thought you'd want to know.

Ethan read it in silence, sitting behind his sleek desk. He didn't slam anything. He didn't curse.

He simply picked up his phone.

"Book the glass boardroom," he told his assistant. "Now."

By mid-afternoon, the room was set. Ava was already seated. HR and Legal were present.

Camille walked in like she was about to receive a raise.

She wore navy. Hair freshly set. Her heels tapped with confidence.

Ethan didn't look up immediately.

He signed something. Sipped from a glass.

Then lifted his head.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Camille smiled. "I assumed this was a leadership sync."

Ava leaned forward. "Earlier today, you had a private meeting with Mr. Greer, where you raised concerns about Lexi Thompson's position on the gala."

Camille tilted her head innocently. "I simply pointed out the speed of her rise. And the need to uphold fairness."

"You suggested she was being advanced due to inappropriate favoritism," Ethan said, his voice low and icy.

"I never said that directly."

"You didn't have to."

HR slid a paper toward Camille.

Termination notice.

Her eyes widened. "Wait. You're firing me?"

Ethan finally stood. "You attempted to defame a staff member without cause. You spread implications to an investor. That is not feedback, Camille. That is sabotage."

Camille's voice faltered. "You can't do this."

"I can," Ethan said coldly. "And I just did."

The news moved quickly.

Camille didn't return to her desk. Her things were boxed quietly. HR escorted her out before whispers had finished forming.

Maya stood beside Lexi, watching the commotion unfold from across the floor.

"That's it," Maya murmured. "She's out."

Lexi blinked. "What?"

"Camille. HR swooped in like hawks. No drama, no noise. Just… finished."

Lexi turned fully now, stunned. "I didn't even know anything was wrong."

"Exactly," Maya whispered. "You didn't even have to throw a punch. You just stood. And she folded."

Lexi looked down at her screen. At the tiny blinking cursor. At her own calm reflection in the black gloss of her desktop.

She hadn't fought.

She hadn't clawed.

She had simply shown up. Every day. And let her work speak louder than gossip.

That evening, as golden dusk draped the city in soft heat, Lexi walked home with slow steps and a full heart.

She passed by the quiet bookstore she used to hide in on anxious days. The café where she first spilled coffee on a stranger. The corner where Maya first said, "Don't shrink."

She thought of her mother. Of how proud she'd be.

She thought of Ethan's stare from the mezzanine the day before. Still lingering in her chest like static.

And most of all—she thought about the woman she had become.

A woman who didn't chase validation.

She embodied it.

And the world had no choice but to notice.