5. The Board Room Strikes Back
5
THE BOARD ROOM STRIKES BACK
ALEX
Another gray Seattle morning, another chance to question my sanity for hiring Mackenzie Gallo.
It’s been a week since we hired the consultant, and already, Drake Enterprises is seeing change.
I stand at my office window, watching rain streak the glass while the board members file into the conference room. The autumn weather matches their mood - dark and threatening.
"The numbers from the retention interviews are in." Emma drops a report on my desk. "Ms. Gallo's strategy is... working."
I raise an eyebrow. "That sounds painful for you to admit."
"It is." She taps her tablet. "But thirty percent of the developers who were planning to leave have withdrawn their resignations. After one day of interviews."
One day. I think about the file I'd studied before the Innovatech takeover, the one showing Ms. Gallo's retention statistics. The one the board had ignored.
"And the latest post from our friend @MizzByteMyAlgos?"
Emma's expression sours. "Gone viral. Again. Their takedown of tech company wellness initiatives is everywhere. The meditation cushion thing especially-"
"Alexander." Gerald Matthews appears in my doorway, jaw tight. "A word?"
Emma escapes, leaving me to deal with what promises to be the first of many board confrontations about my newest hire.
"The woman is a liability," Gerald starts.
"The woman has a name." I keep my voice level. "And she's already saved us millions in retention costs."
"She's unpredictable. Dangerous." He moves to the window, his reflection ghosting against the rain-streaked glass. "Just like your mother was dangerous to your father's company."
My hands clench.
Gerald knows exactly which buttons to push.
Dickhead was on my father's board too, watched our family company implode when my mother chose her new life over her responsibilities.
“I’m not aware that Ms. Gallo is anything like my mother, Ger.”
"No?" He turns. "A strong-willed woman with her own agenda, pushing for changes that could destabilize everything we've built? Sounds familiar to me."
"Let me be clear." I step into Gerald's space, using my height advantage. "My personal history isn't relevant to this discussion. What is relevant is that we're hemorrhaging talent, and Ms. Gallo is stopping the bleeding."
"For now." Gerald doesn't back down, but his throat bobs. "Until she decides to use everything she learns against us. Like that damned blogger is doing."
I circle my desk, letting him stew in the silence. Twenty years of building Drake Enterprises has taught me when to push and when to let anxiety do the work for me.
"The board meeting starts in ten minutes," I say, straightening my cuffs. "I assume you'd like to voice your concerns there?"
"This discussion isn't over, Alexander."
"It never is with you, Gerald."
He leaves, and I give myself thirty seconds to breathe. Just thirty. Because that's all the time a CEO can afford to waste on doubt.
My intercom buzzes. "Mr. Drake? Ms. Gallo is here with the preliminary interview data."
Perfect timing. I straighten my tie - a dark green silk that feels smooth beneath my fingertips. “Send her in."
She enters like she owns the place, which would be annoying if it weren't exactly what I hired her for. Her curly hair is in a tight bun today, the strands stretched tight. Her suit today is charcoal gray, and she's wearing heels that put her almost at shoulder height to me.
She looks…nice. So far, she always looks nice.
I remind myself that I didn’t rehire Mackenzie Gallo for her looks.
I straighten my tie.
But then again not hiring Ms. Gallo for her looks doesn’t mean I don’t notice them.
"The data you wanted." She sets a tablet on my desk. "Though I suspect you already know what it shows."
"Do I?"
"You didn't just happen to have my retention statistics memorized at the gala." She meets my gaze, challenge clear in her brown eyes. "You'd studied them. Before the takeover."
Smart. Dangerous, but smart.
"I do my homework, Ms. Gallo." I pick up the tablet. "Just like you do yours."
"And what homework would that be?"
"The kind that told you exactly when and where to stage your champagne protest for maximum impact. "
Her lips curve. Not quite a smile. "You think that was staged?"
"I think nothing you do is accidental." I round my desk, letting power shift like a physical thing between us. "Including accepting this job."
"Are you accusing me of having ulterior motives, Mr. Drake?"
"Would you respect me if I didn't?"
That gets a real smile. Before she can respond, my phone buzzes. The board is waiting.
"Shall we?" I gesture to the door. "The firing squad awaits."
"After you." She steps back. "I'd hate to be accused of any more surprise attacks."
The boardroom falls silent as we enter. Ten pairs of eyes track our movement - mine to the head of the table, hers to the seat directly opposite. Like a chess match, with human pieces.
"The numbers," I say, taking control before Gerald can start. "Ms. Gallo?"
She pulls up her presentation with efficient clicks. No flourishes, no unnecessary movement. Just data, clean and devastating.
"Thirty percent retention increase in twenty-four hours." Her voice carries to every corner. "Projected savings of twelve million in recruitment and training costs. But you don't care about that."
Barbara Cho bristles. "Of course we-"
"You care about the Davidson account." Ms. Gallo cuts in. "The one that's worth fifty million and was about to walk because they don't trust our ability to keep talent. They've agreed to extend their contract. Would you like to know why?"
I lean back, watching her work. This is what I'd had a peek at before - not just the numbers, but the steel beneath them.
"Because," she continues, "one of their key concerns was our treatment of the Innovatech integration. They saw it as a preview of how we'd handle their projects. Their developers. Their future."
"And now?" Gerald's voice could freeze vodka.
"Now they see a company willing to adapt. To listen." She pulls up another slide. "A company worth investing in."
"Pretty words." Gerald glances at me. "But words don't drive profit."
"No?" I tap my own tablet. "Davidson just doubled their initial contract proposal. This morning."
The room erupts in murmurs. Ms. Gallo's expression doesn't change, but something flashes in her eyes. Triumph, maybe. Or calculation.
"This is all very impressive," Barbara says, "but-"
My phone lights up with a notification. Then everyone else's does too.
"Speaking of corporate adaptability," Gerald reads from his screen, "our friend @MizzByteMyAlgos has some thoughts."
I watch Ms. Gallo as Gerald reads the post aloud. Something about tech companies using performative changes to mask deeper issues. Her face stays professional, bored even.
"If we could focus on actual business," Ms. Gallo cuts in, "instead of social media gossip..."
"This isn't gossip," Gerald snaps. "This blogger has insider knowledge. They knew about the meditation cushions."
"You mean the meditation cushions visible through our entirely glass walls?" Her tone could dry ice. "What incredible corporate espionage."
I hide my amusement behind my coffee cup.
The blogger's becoming a problem, but watching Ms. Gallo verbally eviscerate my board almost makes up for it.
"The point," I say, redirecting, "is that Ms. Gallo's methods are working. The board's concerns about her appointment have been addressed. Unless anyone has actual data to counter her results? "
Silence. The kind that costs millions to create.
"Then I believe we're done here." I stand, buttoning my jacket. "Ms. Gallo, my office. We need to discuss the next phase."
She follows me out, heels clicking against marble. The sound reminds me of a timer counting down, though to what, I'm not sure.
"They're afraid of me," she says once we're in my office.
"They should be." I pour two coffees, sliding one across my desk to her. "You're dismantling their entire worldview about corporate culture."
"And you're not afraid?"
"Ms. Gallo," I meet her eyes over my cup, "I didn't build this company by playing it safe. The board thinks protecting Drake Enterprises means keeping things the same. I know better."
"Do you?" She takes the coffee but doesn't drink. "Because that anonymous blogger isn't wrong about tech company facades."
"No," I agree, watching her. "They're not. Which makes me wonder how they get their information."
Something flickers in her expression. Gone before I can read it.
"Maybe they're just paying attention." She sets the coffee down, untouched. "Now, about that next phase?"
I let her change the subject. For now. Because she's right - I didn't get here by playing it safe.
I got here by knowing when to wait.
"The next phase," I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking, "involves our holiday party planning committee."
Her eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. “You're joking."
"The annual Drake Enterprises Christmas Gala is our biggest cultural event." I enjoy the way her eyes narrow at my phrasing. "Five thousand employees, plus Seattle's entire tech leadership."
"And you want me involved because... "
"Because last year's event had all the warmth of a cryptocurrency crash." I stand, moving to the window. The Seattle rain's turned to early snow - October's way of reminding us winter's coming. "I want something different."
"Different." She tests the word. "Like your Davidson contract different, or your mandatory meditation different?"
"Like someone who turned a champagne disaster into a watershed moment different."
She stands too, reflection ghosting against the glass beside mine. "You're playing a longer game here, Mr. Drake. Care to share what it is?"
I turn to face her. In heels, she's tall enough that I don't have to look down much to meet her eyes. "Would you believe me if I did?"
"No." Her honesty surprises a laugh from me. "But I'd appreciate the effort."
"The tech industry's changing, Ms. Gallo. The old ways - the ones Gerald and Barbara cling to - they're dying. Companies that don't adapt-"
"End up as cautionary tales on tech blogs?"
"Something like that." I study her face, searching for... something. "The question is: are you here to help us adapt, or to document our failure?"
"Maybe I'm here because you offered me a job when you should have called security." She moves toward the door, pause. "Or maybe I'm here because sometimes the best way to change things is from the inside."
"Is that what you believe?"
"I believe," she says, hand on the doorknob, "that you didn't get where you are by asking questions you don't want answered."
She leaves before I can respond. Smart woman.
My phone buzzes - another notification from @MizzByteMyAlgos :
"brEAKING: When tech bros talk about 'adapting,' check your stock options. Change is coming to Silicon Valley North, and not everyone's gonna survive the disruption. #TechTakeover #WatchThisSpace"
I close the notification, thinking about Ms. Gallo's untouched coffee, about the way she'd tensed at Gerald's mention of the blogger.
The snow falls harder outside my window, coating Seattle in white. Perfect weather for secrets.
I pick up my phone, dialing my assistant Emma. "Bring me Ms. Gallo's employee file. The complete one, not the sanitized version HR keeps."
"Sir?" Emma's hesitation carries through the line. "That file is... extensive."
"Good." I watch another flurry of snow blur the Seattle skyline. “I’d like to know exactly who I hired."