My phone lit up with a text, but it was from Meghan.
Meghan:Jill still doesn’t suspect a thing.
Meghan:And I’m going to need your credit card again tomorrow.
Another smile tugged at my lips as I replied with an eyeroll emoji.
I sure as hell didn’t expect to be the guy funding Jill’s surprise thirtieth birthday party, but I let Meghan twist my arm. It didn’t take much. And when I told Meghan my idea for the ultimate surprise for Jill, she’d stared at me for a long time, like she could see right through me.
I could probably stand to be a little better about hiding my affection.
***
Friday’s morning show went much better. No cursing, and only a couple of awkward moments–which Jill saved by initiating some funny banter. They even read some of the online comments we’dreceived about Chase, and there was this whole bit about him stealing the limelight. It was good.
Everything seemed to be on track, but the board called an emergency meeting to discuss Chase’s “shit” mishap anyway.
“Whose idea was it to stick that guy in an anchor chair?” That question came from Arthur Briggs, my former mentor and the man I’d replaced as editor at theWoodvale Timesyears ago.
The other men sitting around the conference table met his question with laughter, mumbling about what a disaster yesterday’s broadcast was. They needed someone to blame, and when one of them suggested Marco was probably behind it, I took a deep breath.
“It was my idea,” I said. The chatter died down. “I’m the one who recognized the need for a fresh perspective. Chase’s first day was rough, but I stand by my decision.”
I swallowed, feeling only half as confident as those words made me sound. Every man in that room was staring at me like they regretted voting me into this spot. I could feel the weight of their scrutiny, each of them silently waiting for me to explain myself further. But I didn’t. That was all I had.
David Granger, the middle-aged accountant with a permanently furrowed brow, cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Normally when we make big moves like this, we hold a meeting first. It’s a group decision. You…. you didn’t consult with any of us on this, did you?” He glanced around the table, and the rest of the men shook their heads. “This isn’t the type of call you should be making on your own.”
“I consulted with Marco,” I said. “He greenlit the idea before we made the changes.”
“Marco was pressured into it, it seems,” Jack Olsen, another board member piped in. It felt like the rug had been pulled out from beneath my feet. How close was Marco to these men, and what else had he been telling them?
Somewhere down at the other end of the table, someone muttered the words “Silas 2.0.” The comparison made my spine stiffen.
“Graham,” Arthur said, his voice gentle but stern. “We chose you to lead us through this transitional period because of how well you integrated the hybrid content strategy under Silas. You proved you can adapt to new challenges quickly. But this—this steamrolling the team and making big picture decisions without even a discussion? I’m sure you can see how it’s taken us all by surprise, here.”
“Steamrolling?” I repeated, letting his words sink in. There was this nagging thought in the back of my mind that he might be right. I took a deep breath, pressing my palms together on the table.
I needed a better defense.
“I should have discussed this with some of you before going forward. But after observing Jill doing the work of two people for so long, which led to her on-air breakdown, I decided to intervene. Quickly. Chase’s first day was admittedly rough, but today was better. The public’s reaction has been overwhelmingly positive.”
A couple of them nodded, muttering quietly in agreement.
“I saw a need, and I acted upon it. Fast,” I continued. “It was never my intention to ‘steamroll’ anything.”
There was a brief silence and more agreeable nods, and I felt a sense of calm. But the relief was short-lived, because Jack took a deep breath and asked, “By the way, how’s your daughter liking that premier internship spot, Graham? Seems like a… valuable opportunity for her.”
It was a ‘gotcha’ question, and everyone at that table knew it. I felt the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on my shoulders.Fuck, if they only knew what I’d really been up to.
Noah Sherman was right: I was under a microscope. Every move I made was being scrutinized, and as long as I was sitting in this role, that would never change.
My gaze drifted to the glass wall that separated the conference room and the studio. I could see Olivia standing by the news desk, handing Jill a little birthday gift bag. Jill’s mouth dropped open in surprise when she saw whatever was inside, and she leaned across the news desk to give my daughter a tight hug. The sight of them sharing that moment hit me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
Maybe I needed to rethink my priorities.
chapter thirty
Jillian