4. Gray
Chapter four
Gray
The hallway feels unusually quiet as I walk toward the front door, my mind preoccupied. I’m still trying to process how Avery—that Avery—ended up here.
When I saw her again this morning, I barely recognized her. On top of that, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her the other night at the restaurant. Mind you, it was dark in there. But still.
That awkward lanky teenager from years ago, Jake's little sister has turned into… well, a damn knockout. Long legs, long blond hair, and those lips… Christ. She’s beautiful. Stunning even.
And then there’s Maddie, already getting along with her like she’s some kind of miracle worker. It’s almost suspicious how perfect this seems.
Too perfect.
My hand is inches from the door handle when I hear the unmistakable sound of Maddie’s feet behind me.
“Actually, you can’t make me go to school because that would be kidnap! And I hate you! You’re horrible!”
I turn slowly, biting back the groan building in my throat. Knew it was too good to be true.
Maddie’s sitting on the floor in the middle of the hallway, yanking at her braids like she’s trying to erase Avery’s hard work from existence. Meanwhile, Avery appears from the living room, her expression equal parts frustration and resignation.
Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, it’s like she’s daring me to say something, but I keep my mouth shut.
Let’s just see how you handle this.
“Maddie,” Avery begins, her voice calm but firm. “You need to go to school. You don’t want to miss out on seeing your friends, right?”
“I don’t care about school! I don’t care about friends!” Maddie folds her arms tightly, her tiny face scrunched up in defiance. “I’m not going!”
Suppressing the urge to pull my hair out, I snap. “Okay Maddie, that’s it. You’re going to school whether you like it or not!”
She just glares at me. “Make me! Make me! I want my mom!”
Yeah, you and me both!
Avery glances down at her phone, and I can see her jaw tighten slightly. Probably her Uber letting her know it’s waiting outside. With a sigh, she drops down to Maddie’s level, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to her.
“Okay, munchkin,” Avery starts, her tone softening as she looks Maddie in the eye. “How about this: if you go to school today, I’ll let you pick whatever you want for dinner tonight. Pizza? Mac and cheese? Ice cream for dessert?”
Maddie’s face flickers with hesitation, but she’s not sold yet.
“And…” Avery adds, leaning in conspiratorially. “If you’re good all day, I’ll let you stay up thirty minutes past your bedtime. But only if you hurry up and let me fix your hair again.”
Maddie’s lips press together, and after a few moments, she finally mutters, “Fine.”
I take the opportunity to make my exit, opening the front door and stepping outside. The Uber’s parked waiting, so I walk up to the car and knock on the driver’s window.
He rolls it down, looking slightly startled. “Uh, yes?”
“Sorry, pal, but you’ll have to wait a few moments. We’re having a minor situation in there.”
He shrugs, not looking particularly thrilled, but he doesn’t argue.
Eventually, Avery comes out with Maddie in tow. Maddie’s still grumbling under her breath, stomping like she’s being marched to her doom. Avery looks at me as they approach, and the exasperation in her expression is almost comical.
“Goodbye, Maddie.” I keep my tone light. She ignores me completely, which isn’t surprising.
I turn to Avery, trying to suppress the faintest hint of a smirk. “Good luck.”
Because trust me… you’re gonna need it.
She shoots me a glare before ushering Maddie into the car. I watch as the Uber pulls away, Maddie’s little face pressed against the window, still pouting.
Shaking my head, I walk around the side of the property. With a press of the remote in my pocket, the garage door opens, and I step inside. My Mercedes EQS 450 is still plugged in, the charge complete. I unplug it, unlock the car, and slide into the driver’s seat, starting it up with a sigh.
Avery thinks the hard part is over, but I know better. She’s going to have a hell of a time just getting Maddie out of that car and into the school building, let alone picking her up again this afternoon.
How the heck does Nicole cope? I know I certainly can’t.
By the time I finally pull into the basement lot at Pacific Crest Publishing, I’ve had enough time to stew over everything that’s already gone on today—and it’s not even 9:20 a.m. The second I step out of the elevator on the executive floor, I know something’s up.
Beth is standing outside my office door, her arms crossed and a distinct ‘you’re not going to like this’ look on her face. Beside her are Marissa, our CFO, Lydia, the CMO, and Simon, our CTO. They’re all talking at once, voices low but intense.
Great. Nothing like a Wednesday morning mutiny to start the day.
“Morning.” I approach, already bracing myself.
Marissa spots me first, her expression equal parts relief and panic. “Gray, we’ve got a situation,” she blurts.
“Of course we do,” I mutter under my breath. “Alright, what’s going on?”
“The stock,” Marissa’s voice is sharp and urgent. “It’s taken a hit. A significant hit.”
I stop short, my hand halfway to the office door. “Define ‘significant’.”
She hesitates, then finally says, “Down almost ten percent since this morning.”
I don’t flinch, but my jaw tightens. That’s not just significant—it’s catastrophic.
I dig my keys out of my pocket, unlock the office door, and push it open. “Alright, inside. Let’s figure this out.”
Beth follows us in, shutting the door behind her. Marissa doesn’t waste a second.
“There’s been speculation about the profitability of the upcoming fiscal year,” she says, dropping a folder onto the desk in front of me. “Some analysts flagged a potential shortfall in the quarterly projections we released last week. It’s spiraled since then.”
“Spiraled how?”
“Media outlets picked up on it,” Lydia interjects. “Headlines everywhere this morning. It’s feeding into a broader narrative about instability in the publishing industry.”
Simon steps forward. “And don’t forget the tech side. There’s chatter about our e-book platform being outdated compared to competitors.”
I rub a hand over my face, trying to block out the pounding in my skull.
“Alright. Here’s what we’re going to do.
Marissa, get me a full breakdown of where the projections are off and why.
I want specifics, not vague guesses. Lydia, work with PR and draft a statement addressing the media coverage. I want it on my desk in an hour.”
“Understood,” Lydia says, already scribbling notes.
“Simon,” I continue. “Compile a list of every upgrade the e-book platform needs to stay competitive. If there’s something we’ve been dragging our feet on, now’s the time to fix it.”
He nods. “I’ll get the team on it immediately.”
“And Beth,” I add, turning to her. “Schedule a meeting with the board for this afternoon. I want to update them before they start breathing down my neck.”
“Already done,” she says, holding up her tablet.
“Good. Now, Marissa,” I look back at her. “What’s our immediate cash flow situation? Are we stable enough to weather this without resorting to drastic measures?”
“For now,” she replies, but there’s a note of caution in her voice. “If the stock doesn’t recover quickly, we’ll have to start considering cost-cutting options.”
I lean back in my chair. This is the last thing we need. “Fine. Let’s focus on damage control for now. Once we’ve stopped the bleeding, we can talk about long-term solutions.”
There’s a moment of tense silence as everyone absorbs their marching orders.
“Anything else I should know?”
“Just one thing,” Lydia says, hesitating slightly. “There’s been some noise on social media about an author we dropped last year. They’re claiming it’s tied to financial issues, which isn’t helping our image.”
“Fantastic,” I mutter. “Add it to the statement. Make it clear that the decision was based on creative differences, not finances. And get legal on it if they don’t back off.”
She nods, and the group starts to disperse, each heading off to tackle their part of the mess.
As the door closes behind them, I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling for a moment.
This day just keeps getting better.
With the next few hours buzzing past in a flurry of calls and emails, it’s finally time for my meeting with the board.
Nathaniel stands by the window in my office, mid-sentence about operational adjustments, when a sharp knock at the door interrupts him.
“Yes? Come in.”
Marissa strides in, her arms clutching a stack of reports. “Thank God, the market’s leveled off a bit.” Her voice is all business. “We’ve gained a few points, but it’s not enough to pacify the board.”
“Is it ever?” I mutter, grabbing my tablet. I glance at Nathaniel. “Let’s get this over with.”
Nathaniel sighs and follows me into the hallway. The silence as we walk is thick, punctuated only by the distant hum of office activity. Beth joins us as we pass her office, matching our stride.
“The board’s gathered,” she says quietly. “They’ve been asking for updates every few minutes.”
“Of course, they have,” I reply, my tone edged with sarcasm.
No one laughs. The ride up to the tenth floor is oppressively silent, the tension almost tangible.
When the elevator doors slide open, we step into the corridor leading to the boardroom.
Through the glass walls, I see them—seated, talking amongst themselves, their expressions ranging from impatient to indifferent.
I take a breath and push open the door.
The meeting begins immediately, with the chairperson demanding updates and everyone talking over one another.
I provide the essentials; the stock prices dipped, investor confidence was shaken, but stabilization is underway.
Nathaniel talks operational efficiency, and Marissa outlines the financials.
The words flow around me, but my focus wanes.