Page 77 of The CEO I Hate

He snorted. “Why exactly is that?”

“Because you’d be retconning the first half of the season which is almost completely filmed,” I said. “Is that what you want? To have the fans think you came in here and completely dropped the ball?”

It was like the oxygen had been sucked from the room. The others held their breaths, waiting to see if this would turn explosive, but I held firm. I knew Lyle cared about how he was perceived by the fans. I could tell that just from the interview I’d watched. So if that was the move I had to play to get him to play ball, then I would. I snatched the torn cue card from his hand, taping the halves back to the board.

“Fine,” he said, tearing another card down. “But the silo fire has to go. I have something else planned for the midseason setpiece.”

I heard a sharp sound and looked down the table to Tanya. She was already working hard on that episode. She’d been so stoked to write it, to finally get her silo fire. Even Ash stirred at that, lifting his head and letting out a confused little chuff like he could feel the tension shift. I waited for Paula or Liam to pipe up, but no one said anything. The energy of the whole damn room had been stifled the moment Lyle walked through the door.

“Again, we’ve set that up with what’s already been filmed,” I told Lyle as frustration pulsed in my temples. “It’s too late to make that kind of switch. The season is plotted. You’re welcome to make minor changes, but?—”

“Minor?” He started laughing. “Oh no. The silo fire is out.”

I turned back to the table. Really? Was no one going to say anything? Jerome, Kait, and Tanya had been rendered silent. Paula rubbed at the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. Lyle’s two cronies were scribbling notes, but Liam…He had to do something! I locked eyes with him and inclined my head toward the door.

“Let’s take five,” he said. I left the room, and he followed me out to the hall.

“What’s wrong?” he said, keeping his voice low.

What’s wrong?I wanted to shout. So many things! My biggest issue was the fact that he’d let Lyle bring Damien along as one of his toadies, but I reminded myself that wasmyissue, and I couldn’t let it become a big deal. It wasn’t like Liam could have known any better. But the fact that Lyle was steamrolling the writers’ room, resulting in Jerome, Kait, and Tanya instantly becoming shells of themselves, was a problem he should be able to recognize at a glance. So why wasn’t he doing anything about it?

“Mia—”

“Isn’t there something you can do about Lyle? He’s completely ignoring what we’ve already put in place. The silo fire? The crew’s already prepping that big scene.”

Liam rubbed at his jaw. “I…think we have to hear him out.”

“Hear him out?”

“Maybe he does have a better idea.”

I cocked my head. “Really?”

“If I put my foot down too hard right out of the gate,” Liam said, “I’m worried Lyle will storm out again, kicking off another scandal. All he has to do is stir up a little bad press, and it could tank season two. I can’t let that happen.”

“I thought you said you’d made it clear to Lyle that we weren’t going to refilm any of the episodes that were already finished. That’s four of the ten. Midseason is supposed to be next. Tanya almost has the script locked.”

“I agree that whatever he comes up with is going to have to work with what’s already filmed,” Liam said. “But the silo…hasn’t been filmed yet.”

“You’re saying you’re gonna let him scrap that?” I said, frustration and fury and a giant helping of disappointment taking up room in my chest.

“I said we’d hear him out,” Liam corrected.

“Which means you’re giving him the go-ahead to make whatever changes he wants as long as everything makes sense, right? That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

Liam huffed. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but he’s the co-head writer. If he wants to change elements, rewrite scripts, go in different directions…he has a right to pitch those ideas to the room. To challenge what you’ve got planned for the rest of the season.”

I nodded slowly, absorbing his words, trying not to take it personally.

And failing. Failing miserably. Because itwaspersonal. I’d come in when the show was floundering and gotten it back on its feet again. And now, it felt like everything I’d accomplished was being taken away. Lyle had manipulated this room once before, and he was gearing up to do it again. I huffed in frustration.

“Does that make sense?” he asked, his voice brusque. He was clearly ready to be done with this conversation.

“Yep,” I said, snapping theP.

There was a pause, then “You okay?” he asked, his voice slightly softer.

That was a question asked not by CEO Liam but bymyLiam. The one I wanted to be comforted by. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask for comfort when I was pissed at him. And truthfully, Iwaspissed.

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