Riley stepped in beside her, voice bright but protective.
"Morning, Katherine. Quite the surprise, Monnshine dropped isn’t it? Right before our launch."
Katherine’s expression shifted, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features before she smoothed it away.
"Yes, unfortunate timing. Very unfortunate. Martin will handle it, of course. He always does. We can’t let a rival’s cheap tactics derail what we’ve built."
She gave Fiona one last appraising look and left.
"Moonshine’s pre-order numbers are already double what we projected for our event teaser."
"Three more influencers just pulled out — all citing ’prior commitnts’ that magically align with Moonshine’s launch party."
"The board wants hourly updates. They’re saying if we lose montum now, the entire inclusivity campaign could tank."
"Martin’s been on calls since dawn. He’s furious. Soone’s head is going to roll if we don’t find a way to counter this fast."
The ergency eting for what to do next had been scheduled for 2 p.m. in the main boardroom, and the entire floor was already buzzing about it. Departnt heads were pulling together last-minute slides. The PR team looked like they hadn’t slept. Even the usually unflappable events coordinator was pacing near the windows, phone pressed to her ear, voice rising with every new setback.
Fiona went to her desk and tried to focus on the final mock-ups for her section of the event presentation, but her hands trembled slightly on the mouse. She couldn’t help but worry.
The resignation letter in her bag suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. How was she supposed to hand it over when the whole company was in full crisis mode? Martin would already be stretched thin, dealing with the Moonshine threat. Dropping her notice now especially with the whispers could make everything explode in ways she wasn’t ready for.
Riley dropped into the chair beside her during a brief lull, looking equally frazzled. She pushed a fresh coffee toward Fiona.
"This is insane," Riley muttered, rubbing her temples. "I’ve taken six calls already this morning from partners asking if we’re still on track. One supplier even hinted they might prioritize Moonshine’s rush order over ours. The events team is scrambling to find replacent influencers on zero notice. And did you hear? The board is demanding a full damage assessnt by end of day. If our social sentint keeps dropping, investors might start asking questions about the rger tiline."
Fiona nodded, wrapping her fingers around the warm cup even though her stomach was too unsettled for caffeine.
"I heard the whispers on the way in. It feels... personal. Like they knew exactly when to strike."
Riley leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"So people are saying there’s a leak. Soone inside Voss fed them our event dates and key ssaging. Others think it’s just cutthroat business — Moonshine has always been aggressive. Either way, today is going to be brutal. Martin called the leadership team . I walked past his office earlier... he looked ready to throw his laptop. Katherine was in there with him, playing the supportive fiancée, but even she looked tense."
By lunchti the chaos had only intensified. The cafeteria was half-empty because no one had ti to sit. People ate at their desks while scrolling through competitor analytics and firing off rapid emails. Fiona barely touched the light salad she’d packed. Instead, she spent the hour staring at the sealed envelope in her bag, rehearsing silent versions of the conversation she still needed to have.
By afternoon the entire 38th floor began migrating toward the elevators for the ergency eting. Fiona joined the crowd, heart pounding. Katherine was already near the front of the group, standing with perfect posture, occasionally murmuring sothing to a senior marketing director. When her eyes t Fiona’s in the crowded elevator, she offered a small smile.
The main boardroom was packed when they arrived. Chairs had been pulled in from adjacent rooms. Martin stood at the head of the long glass table, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, jaw set in a hard line. His usual commanding presence felt sharper today, edged with barely contained frustration. He didn’t look directly at Fiona when she slipped into a seat near the back, but she could feel the weight of his attention anyway — that familiar pull mixed with sothing heavier.
The eting kicked off without pleasantries.
Marketing presented the grim numbers first: Moonshine’s Lumina Glow campaign was already trending higher than anything Voss had posted in the last month. Influencer pull-outs were climbing. Pre-event ticket sales for the inclusivity gala had slowed to a trickle. Then PR outlined the dia fallout — headlines questioning whether Voss was still the leader in inclusive beauty or if a younger, bolder rival was about to eclipse them.
Voices overlapped as departnt heads pitched frantic counter-strategies: last-minute influencer outreach, revised ssaging that emphasized Voss’s heritage, even a possible ergency teaser drop of their own. Suggestions flew back and forth — so practical, others desperate.
Then Katherine stood up.
She had been sitting quietly beside Martin, playing the picture-perfect fiancée, but now she cleared her throat and stepped forward with elegant authority, as if she belonged at the head of the table.
"Before we keep throwing ideas around," she said, her voice smooth but carrying a sharp edge, "I think we need to address the elephant in the room. Timing like this doesn’t happen by accident. Moonshine dropped their entire campaign the exact day Fiona was mysteriously absent with a ’family ergency.’ She’s been one of the key creatives on our inclusivity event. She knows every detail the tiline, the ssaging, the influencer list. And suddenly, the day she disappears, our biggest rival launches a near-identical inclusive glow collection that undercuts everything we’ve been building?"
A few heads turned toward Fiona. Whispers rippled through the room.
Katherine continued, her gaze landing directly on Fiona for a beat too long.
"I’m not accusing anyone. I’m just saying... it’s curious. Fiona, you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. We’ve all noticed. If there’s anything you need to share — any reason why Moonshine might have had such perfect inside information — now would be the ti. We’re a family here at Voss. We protect our own. But we can’t afford leaks or divided loyalties right before the biggest event of the year."
The room went dead silent.
Fiona felt the blood drain from her face. She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself, her mind racing. Katherine wasn’t just throwing shade — she was openly implying Fiona had sabotaged the event. That her absence yesterday had sohow given Moonshine the ammunition they needed. That Fiona herself might be the leak.
Martin’s eyes locked on Fiona. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw tightened visibly, the muscle ticking once.
Before Fiona could respond, Martin spoke, his voice low and firm, cutting through the silence like a blade.
"Katherine," he said, turning slightly toward her, "that’s enough."
The room froze.
He continued, his tone asured but carrying unmistakable authority.
"We don’t throw accusations around without proof. Not in this company. Not in this eting. Fiona has been a dedicated mber of this team for years. She’s contributed more to the inclusivity event than almost anyone else in this room. Her absence yesterday was for a family ergency — sothing I’ve already verified through HR. If we start pointing fingers based on timing and speculation, we’re no better than the rumors we’re fighting. We focus on facts and solutions. Not assumptions."
Katherine’s perfect smile faltered for a split second, surprise flashing in her eyes before she masked it.
"I was only trying to protect the company," she said softly, placing a hand lightly on Martin’s arm. "You’ve worked so hard—"
"I know," Martin cut in, his voice gentler with her but still firm. "And I appreciate your concern. But protecting the company ans protecting our people too — unless there’s actual evidence. Right now, there isn’t. So let’s get back to the plan."
His gaze flicked briefly to Fiona again — not accusatory, but protective, almost shielding. For a heartbeat, it felt like the old Martin, the one who had pulled her close in the broken elevator, the one who still looked at her like she mattered.
Fiona’s chest tightened. She didn’t know whether to feel grateful or terrified.
The eting dragged on for another hour after that, but the energy had shifted. Suggestions were more guarded. People glanced at Fiona when they spoke about "internal security" and "loyalty checks." Martin steered the conversation back to actionable plans — revised social strategy, ergency teaser content, damage-control press releases — but the damage from Katherine’s words lingered in the air like smoke.
When the eting finally wrapped, the room emptied in a rush of determined chatter and hurried plans. Martin remained at the front, speaking in low, intense tones with the head of PR and the events director.
Fiona lingered near the door, waiting for the crowd to thin. Her palms were damp. This was supposed to be the mont. She would approach him, ask for five private minutes, and hand over the letter.
But as the last few people filed out, Katherine stepped smoothly to Martin’s side again, placing a hand on his arm with casual familiarity.
"Darling, you handled that perfectly," she murmured, voice carrying just enough to reach Fiona. "We’ll get through this. Together."
Martin gave a curt nod, but his eyes flicked briefly toward the back of the room — toward Fiona ...
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