3. Cassandra
3
CASSANDRA
C assandra sat at her sleek desk in her office high above the bustling streets of New York City. The early morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating her long blonde hair and casting a warm glow on her blue eyes. As the CEO of Wynter Media, she was used to navigating the fast-paced world of fashion with sophistication and skill. But today felt different. Today had an undercurrent of tension she couldn’t shake.
Just weeks ago, Cassandra had attended the annual fashion conference where she’d encountered Nadine James, the ambitious young CEO of Pulse Media. At first, she’d thought little of Nadine’s startup, dismissing it as another craze in an already saturated industry. But after meeting Nadine, Cassandra was beginning to reconsider her original assessment.
Then there had been that sexually charged moment on the terrace after too much wine. As much as Cassandra had wanted to take her and fuck her there and then on the terrace, it wasn’t her style to take advantage when someone had been drinking. And she had certainly drank enough herself, that she didn’t think her own performance would be at its finest.
Nadine James would wait till the time was right.
The phone rang, and she grabbed it, ready to address what she thought would be another mundane issue. Instead, it was Vivienne Blackwood, the esteemed and formidable CEO of Vivid Black Fashion Empire.
“Cassandra, I’ve got some troubling news.” Vivienne’s voice was clipped, and Cassandra felt a knot tighten in her stomach.
“What is it?” Cassandra asked, forcing herself to sound calm and collected despite her racing heartbeat.
“I’ve just heard on the grapevine that Purdey’s have switched over and signed a deal with a company called… Pulse Media. Apparently some Nadine James of Pulse is offering a fresh new approach,” Vivienne continued, her tone dripping with barely concealed disbelief.
“Purdey’s? Fuck. Is this for real? They have been with Wynter Media forever. They are one of our biggest clients. How on earth are you hearing this before me?”
“Everyone knows, Cassandra. My call is purely out of courtesy and respect for you.”
Cassandra’s irritation morphed into something sharper. How did it come to this? She’d underestimated Pulse Media and Nadine’s strategy, and that was starting to look like a dangerous miscalculation.
“Thank you for letting me know, Vivienne,” she said tersely, her thoughts already racing through what this could mean for Wynter.
After hanging up, she stared out the window, the city sprawling beneath her like an endless runway. Why was everything changing so fast? She brought her attention back to her computer and, out of curiosity and annoyance, she pulled up TikTok. As she scrolled through Pulse Media’s page, her eyebrows lifted in surprise. Their follower count was enormous—far greater than Wynter Media’s on Facebook, a platform they’d dominated for over three times as long as Pulse Media had existed.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. Each video felt like a punch, filled with dazzling edits and catchy trends that clearly captivated online audiences. No doubt Purdey’s would be on there soon.
A growing sense of envy gnawed at her. What was it about these viral clips that so effortlessly spun into internet fame? It was almost as if their marketing was driving their fashion, and not the other way around, like how Cassandra had built her business from the bottom button up.
“Mia! Get in here!” she called, her voice echoing in the polished office.
Her young intern, a bright-eyed college student, rushed in, laptop in hand and a concerned look plastered on her face.
“Yes, Ms. Wynter?” Mia replied, always eager to help.
“Can you explain this TikTok madness to me?” Cassandra gestured toward the screen. “I don’t understand this hashtag thing. What’s with #FYP? Does it mean ‘Fashion Youth Page’ or something?”
Mia burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand as she struggled to regain her composure. “No, Ms. Wynter. It means ‘For You Page.’ It’s where users get recommended videos.”
Cassandra furrowed her brows in confusion. “For You Page? What does that even mean?”
“It’s just a place where TikTok curates content for each person based on what they like,” Mia explained, still smiling. “It’s like magic, really. The more people engage with certain videos, the more similar videos show up on their page.”
“Magic,” she repeated, her tone laced with skepticism. But deep down, she felt an unsettling mixture of intrigue and frustration.
As Mia walked out of the room, Cassandra sat back in her chair, a sense of determination settling in. If she wanted to keep Wynter Media at the top, she had to adapt. The winds of change were not just blowing—they were a storm, and New York City was not known for its efficient evacuation techniques. She was ready to weather the storm.
Cassandra wasn’t about to let a startup like Pulse Media sweep her off her feet. She would find a way to outshine Nadine and remind the world why Wynter Media was a lasting name known for elegance and style.
With a resigned sigh, she pulled up TikTok again, promising herself that today, she would learn something new.
It was time for Cassandra to shake things up. She called for a surprise conference for the Wynter Media staff, her heart racing with the anticipation of sharing what she’d discovered. Her team filed into the room, some with curious expressions, others with glances of mild dread. The projector whirred to life, and Cassandra pulled up Pulse Media’s TikTok page. Bright colors and catchy trends flashed across the screen, showcasing a mix of fashion and fun.
“Who in this room has TikTok?” Cassandra asked, surveying her team. Reluctant hands slowly raised, followed by sheepish smiles.
“We’re all addicted to scrolling through those reels!” one brave soul piped up. Laughter rippled through the room.
“Yes, yes, what you all have is real too,” Cassandra said, trying to maintain her annoyance while the chuckles continued.
There was a pause, and then someone chimed in, “They’re called reels now, Ms. Wynter- the short videos on TikTok.”
“Reels?” Cassandra echoed, slightly frustrated. “So why aren’t we making reels?”
One of the social media experts, a smart but often timid woman named Lily, answered, “We’re focusing on Facebook, Ms. Wynter like you directed us to. Our audience there really engages with our posts.”
At that moment, all eyes turned to her as Cassandra raised an eyebrow. The awkward silence spread like a blanket over the room. “How many of you actually watch reels on Facebook?” she asked pointedly.
Only one hand in the far corner of the room went up. It belonged to May, the company’s oldest employee—the one they kept on staff out of respect for her years of loyalty and as a reminder of Wynter Media’s humble beginnings. She smiled, blissfully unaware of the eyes rolling around her.
Cassandra took a deep breath and stepped closer to her team, her voice picking up a note of urgency. “We cannot be blown out of the water with our marketing by a competitor like Pulse Media. If we want to stay relevant, we must adapt and innovate. I need an immediate action plan delivered by Monday. TikTok is the next wave, and we need to catch it before it washes over us.”
A buzz of nervous energy filled the room. It was a challenge, but her team knew Cassandra well. When she set a deadline, she expected results.
Once the meeting ended, Cassandra asked for the marketing team to stay, her resolve sharpening. “Listen up,” she said, her tone firm. “Whoever is responsible for creating a viral reel with over a million views will receive a bonus of a thousand dollars. And this incentive will continue until our TikTok account reaches a million followers!”
Excited chatter erupted in the office as her team members exchanged ecstatic glances. The buzz of creativity began to crackle in the air. Cassandra felt a rush of satisfaction at igniting their enthusiasm, but deep down, she knew that she had to change her leadership style to match the evolving industry.
She had to give her employees more freedom. She realized she’d been too controlling, too dismissive of ideas that didn’t conform to her vision. An epiphany hit her—creativity thrived in an environment where people could let their imaginations flourish without fear of rejection.
“Alright, everyone,” Cassandra continued, her voice softer but still carrying her excitement. “I want you all to think outside the box. Don’t be afraid to pitch wild ideas. Let’s make reel-making an adventure, something fun and engaging. I want to see what you come up with!”
The enthusiasm in the room was palpable now. Cassandra’s shift in attitude seemed to unlock something, allowing her team to feel empowered rather than constrained.
As her team bustled about with newfound energy, Cassandra couldn’t help but smile. Maybe today was the day Wynter Media would take its first real step into the world of TikTok and reels. At the very least, it would be the day Cassandra started embracing her team’s creativity. She was energized for the challenge ahead, excited to see where this new direction would lead.
The excitement lasted as she worked through paperwork and emails efficiently for a few hours. Eventually, stressful thoughts bubbled back to the surface. Pulse Media had stolen Wynter’s longest-standing client, Purdey’s, and Cassandra was fuming.
“She thinks this is a game,” Cassandra muttered under her breath, twirling a pen between her fingers as she stared at the various contracts spread across her desk. “I should have taken the little bitch down while I had the chance.”
The bold, colorful designs on the paperwork were no comfort to her inner turmoil. This felt personal.
After a few furious minutes of shuffling papers, Cassandra decided she wouldn’t let her emotions fester any longer. She pulled out her phone, determined to confront Nadine about the betrayal. A quick search for Nadine’s contact information led her to an online directory, and Cassandra clicked the number with irritation.
The phone rang, and every ring echoed the tension in her chest. “Come on, pick up,” she urged, tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the desk.
“Nadine James,” The voice on the other end was familiar, smooth yet tinged with an edgy confidence.
“Nadine,” Cassandra replied curtly, her frustration bubbling over. “It’s Cassandra Wynter, from Wynter Media. We need to talk.”
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise.” Nadine shot back, her tone playful but firm.
Cassandra’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “Not really. As I’m sure you are aware, we don’t go round taking other companies clients behind their backs. Shall we talk about the Purdey’s contract, Nadine? What exactly were you thinking?” Cassandra’s voice was laced with venom. She was more angry than she perhaps had ever been.
Their intimate moment on the terrace was absolutely forgotten.
“What I think,” Nadine retorted, “is that your clients are free to choose who they want to work with. I didn’t steal anyone; they left you. Maybe you should focus on why they chose us instead.”
Cassandra inhaled sharply, the edge of Nadine’s words cutting deeper than she’d expected. There was a fire in her voice, something that both irritated and intrigued her. “This isn’t just business for me, you know,” she said coldly.
“It isn’t for me, either, Cassandra,” Nadine replied, her tone softening just a bit. “I thought we could have collaborated, but now?—”
“Wait,” Cassandra interrupted. “I never got your email inviting me to meet up after the conference. Why didn’t you follow up?”
“I sent an email the next day,” Nadine said, a hint of confusion in her voice. “You didn’t get it?”
Embarrassment washed over Cassandra. “Let me check.” She fiddled with her computer as Nadine held the line. With a few clicks, she found it. There it was, nestled deep in her junk mail folder, marked as spam.
“Oh no,” she breathed, biting her lip. “It’s in my junk folder.”
Nadine laughed, the sound rich and full of life. “See? Miscommunication happens. Maybe you should have just given me your number?”
She probably should have. Maybe if she had gotten back to Nadine as she had promised, Nadine wouldn’t have come after her top client.
“Listen, how about we start fresh?” she proposed, her mind shifting gears quickly. “Let’s grab lunch. Just you and me.”
“I’d like that,” Nadine replied, a flare of warmth evident in her voice.
“Let’s say Friday? How does noon sound?” Cassandra directed.
“Perfect,” Nadine confirmed.
“That’s settled, then.”
Cassandra ended the call and tapped her immaculately manicured nails on her desk. Something about this woman was completely under her skin. And she didn’t know what she was going to do about it.