Chapter 5
Chapter Five
CHARLOTTE
The next morning, I walked into the office ready to tackle the day and the mounting list of challenges waiting for me.
Near the top was a COO who clearly wasn’t thrilled about my twice-daily meetings or the looming layoffs.
I’d have to find a way to get him on board eventually, but not today.
There were bigger fires to put out, and I didn’t have the bandwidth to manage his ego.
It would’ve been easy to write Gabriel off after yesterday. He’d come across as sharp, impatient, and far too accustomed to being the one in charge. But I’d also caught a flicker of another side when Olivia had recognized him.
For a split second, the tension had dropped from his shoulders, and he’d softened. Later, Olivia mentioned he’d shown her pictures of his daughter. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind me there was more to him than the polished, prickly, way-too-handsome-to-admit-out-loud exterior.
Even so, I didn’t have the time or the energy to convince him he could trust me. We’d only just met, and trust wasn’t built overnight, especially not in the middle of a merger where everyone was calculating where they stood.
We were navigating uncharted waters, and in times like these, caution had always been my compass. Caution, and my own, personal prime directive. No matter how chaotic the landscape became, the people and the clients came first.
The staff needed direction, reassurance that their work still mattered. The clients needed to believe this merger meant strength and not instability. Titles could shift, leadership could change, but if either group lost faith, the entire ship would go under.
And with a five percent staff reduction hanging over us like a storm cloud, I wasn’t entirely sure we weren’t already taking on water.
By late morning, my focus had shifted from client calls and reviewing the roster of employees to the next unavoidable task: uniting a leadership team which barely knew one another, and getting them all to decide who to lay off.
I’d already spoken with each of the chiefs individually yesterday. Together, we’d agreed it made sense to bring the directors into the conversation. They were closest to the teams, and their insight would be critical in determining where the impact would land.
There would be twelve of us making the decisions: Gabriel, the four chiefs, six directors, and myself. The number wasn’t lost on me. Twelve. Like a jury. But unlike a courtroom, the verdict had already been decided. My job was to ensure it was carried out as fairly as possible.
“They’re ready for you in the conference room,” Olivia announced, popping her head in. Her smile was brighter than what I felt.
“Thanks.”
The toughest part of leadership was carrying out decisions you didn’t fully agree with and doing it without hesitation.
The newly remodeled conference room was Arrow’s showpiece. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the space with sunlight, glinting off a long walnut table polished to perfection. Beyond the glass, the harbor shimmered, serene and detached from the tension hanging thick in the room.
Leather chairs framed the table, every seat filled.
It was easy to tell who came from Arrow and who belonged to Juniper.
Those from Arrow, nine of them, offered faint smiles, their postures open, expectant.
The three from Juniper sat tighter, arms crossed, expressions edged with irritation at being summoned by someone they barely knew.
“Good morning, everyone,” I began, moving to the head of the table. “I met most of you yesterday, but for those I haven’t, I’m Charlotte Green, acting CEO of Arrow Communications.”
“For now,” someone muttered under his breath.
I tracked the British accent to John Elliott, four seats down. A familiar face from yesterday and already shaping up to be a problem. If he thought I’d ignore him and his comment, he was sorely mistaken.
“Did you want to repeat your words, John, so everyone can hear? Or should I recap for you?” My tone was cool, each word deliberate, slicing through the room like glass.
His face went crimson, the color climbing his neck.
I didn’t look away. Silence was a tool I’d learned to wield early in my career.
So I let it stretch. One beat. Two. Long enough for the tension to thicken, for every head at the table to turn toward him.
Long enough for him to feel the awkwardness, and hopefully think twice before commenting again.
“Fine, then. I’ll recap.” I spoke for him. “Yes, I am the acting CEO. For now, for tomorrow, and for as long as I hold the position.”
My gaze swept the room before pausing on Gabriel. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t even amused. Instead, he glared daggers at John.
Interesting.
“I recognize this merger, and the changes that come with it, won’t be easy.
Over the next few weeks, we’ll all be adjusting, and I ask for your patience as we work through the transition together.
Let me be clear: there is room for everyone at this table.
Each of you is here because you bring value to this leadership team, and that doesn’t change. ”
I gave the words a moment to breathe, watching the faces. Some looked reassured. Others skeptical.
“Our first challenge, as all of you are now aware,” I started out, keeping my voice calm and collected, “is to identify over the next three weeks the bottom five percent of performers. Every department will need to take an honest look at recent performance reviews and rank the most essential roles. Cutting jobs isn’t an easy process, but it’s necessary to ensure we’re building a structure that’s strong enough to last.”
“So, you’re going to cut Juniper. Is that your plan?” John asked, his tone more accusation than question.
“It is not the plan.” I let each word land with deliberate calm. “The cuts will come from both companies, based on performance, not origin.” And at this point, no one was exempt from the possibility, including John if he didn’t change his attitude.
He leaned back, unimpressed, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.
I didn’t rise to it. “If we treat this merger like two separate entities,” I continued, “we fail before we even start. Every person is now part of Arrow and will be evaluated by the same metrics and review process. That’s the only way this works.”
Before I could move on, Gabriel spoke. “Charlotte is right, this isn’t about which side anyone came from. It’s about who’s performing and who isn’t. The sooner we all start acting like one company, the better off we’ll be.”
The room shifted subtly, resistance softening around the edges. Even John straightened a fraction, like he’d just recognized he was outnumbered.
I hadn’t expected backup, least of all from Gabriel. Yet the sound of his voice, steady and certain beside mine, sparked something I hadn’t felt in days. The faint but unmistakable sense that I wasn’t completely alone in this.
A dangerous thought, especially when it came to the competition. I pushed it aside and outlined the plan for the next few days, forging on as if nothing had shifted at all.
I left the office at six, tempted to skip spin class and collapse into a hot bath instead. But my younger sister, Michelle, would never let me live it down if I bailed.
She was already in the back row, ponytail high, and had saved me a bike. “Thought you’d flake,” she teased.
We shared our mother’s big brown eyes, long lashes, and a button nose.
From our late father, we got his unshakable determination and attention to detail.
In every other way, though, we were opposites.
Michelle was tall, toned, and athletic, her hair a perfect shade of blond since college.
I was petite, brunette, and would happily boycott anything involving Spandex or a whistle.
“Tough day, but I’m here.” I’d filled her in over the weekend about the meeting with the owners.
Michelle was a superior court judge who handled stress on an entirely different level. She leveled me with a look that made it clear she wasn’t buying the casual act. “A merger stacked on top of an acting CEO role you might not get to keep, and layoffs to boot? That’s a hell of a load, Char.”
“Guess there’s no better way to prove myself.” I clipped into the pedals, forcing my legs to wake up.
She grinned, wicked and knowing. “You? Proving yourself? Stop the presses.”
That was the thing about sisters who doubled as best friends. They knew the truth beneath the drive, and could spot the real motivation behind every decision, including the ones made to prove a point to my ex.
“Cute.” I grabbed my towel. “By the way, if you don’t have dinner plans tonight, Austin’s coming by.”
Michelle’s nose wrinkled. “Isn’t tonight Steve’s night?”
“Yeah. Not sure what’s going on, but I’m hoping to get to the bottom of it.” Something had definitely been off lately at my ex’s house.
“Best I’m not there.” She reached for her water bottle. “I tend to cross-examine without meaning to. And as you know, the only good thing that ever came out of your stupid ex is my wonderful nephew. Probably because he’s ninety percent your gene pool.”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it. Everyone deserved a sister as fiercely loyal as Michelle.
My ex could still stir old doubts. He’d often made me feel selfish for wanting both family and a career.
But six years had taught me to turn leftover anger into fuel rather than poison.
“Speaking of cross-examination, I could use you to rattle a few of the Juniper guys,” I teased. “Just to watch them squirm.”
Michelle smirked. “I’m sure you do a stellar job putting them in their place. Hope your boxes are packed for a proper ‘fuck you’ walkout if they’re dumb enough not to make this permanent.”
“They’re on standby.” Jill, my recruiter friend, had already told me the quiet search for external candidates was underway, and interviews would follow in the coming weeks.
Michelle’s expression softened. “Don’t let them take you for granted.”
“I won’t.”
She smiled big. “Good. You’re going to blow away the competition, of that I have no doubt.”
Of course Gabriel’s handsome face flashed, unbidden, across my mind.
I really, really didn’t want to think about him, at least not in any way other than exactly what he was: competition.
But it was difficult not to recall how he’d backed me up in the conference room earlier today.
Gabriel had the kind of presence that made people turn instinctively, a confidence threaded through every movement, every glance.
But the last thing I needed right now was a distraction wrapped in a tailored suit.
I turned my attention to the bike.
As I pulled into the driveway ninety minutes later, my mood lifted instantly at the sight of Austin’s truck.
When I stepped inside my house, the peace wrapped around me like a warm blanket. My home was my sanctuary, and having my son here at any time made it perfection.
The entryway opened into the sanctuary I’d spent years methodically shaping with pride. Terracotta tiles stretched across the floor, warm and earthy, their surface cool beneath my tired feet. Arched doorways led from room to room, each curve in direct contrast to the chaos of my day.
I’d collected pieces over the years, each one chosen with care like an antique carved sideboard from a tiny shop in Florence, mosaic-tiled tables with a scatter of colors, and rich woven rugs which made the open spaces cozier.
After my marriage ended, and I walked away from the family home, I swore my next four walls would recharge rather than drain me.
“Hey, honey,” I greeted as I stepped into the large kitchen.
He was perched on a stool, phone in hand, scrolling through whatever app was hot now.
His hair was a little too long in the front which was apparently the style.
Mothers were supposed to be biased of course, but I thought he was such a handsome, thoughtful kid.
He stood to hug me before heading straight for the fridge. “How was spin class with Aunt Michelle?”
“Exhausting. It was hill night. Done with homework?”
“Yep, all finished.”
“You hungry?”
“Always. But don’t go to any trouble.”
I shook my head, pulling out pasta. “It’s never any trouble. Brown butter noodles and breaded chicken okay?”
He grinned. “Sounds amazing. Thanks for making this place always feel like home.”
“This is your home, Austin. The custody schedule was for when you were little. You’re old enough now to decide where you want to spend your time.”
He shifted, uneasy. “Dad’s not thrilled about me coming over on his nights. I told him I was studying with a friend.”
I sighed, putting a pot of water on the stove to boil. “You shouldn’t have to lie, and this isn’t a competition. Is everything okay over there?”
He hesitated before answering. “They’ve been fighting a lot. Stassie cries when he leaves, and…it’s a lot with the baby and the other kids.”
My lips pressed together as I stirred butter into the pan.
Stassie had been our nanny before becoming his wife.
She was ten years younger than me and, I chose to believe, nothing started happening until after we’d divorced.
But the timing didn’t matter anymore. They had three kids under four, and whatever was going on between them was clearly spilling onto Austin.
“Dad says I should help more with the kids,” he added quietly, “but between school, baseball, and homework, I can barely keep up.”
I bit back a sharp response. “It’s nice of you to help out with your siblings when you can, but three kids under four isn’t something anyone could manage well. That’s a lot, even for adults.”
“That’s what I said,” he muttered. “When Stassie’s around, I don’t mind playing with the twins or helping with the baby. But all three by myself on a Saturday when it makes me late for practice. It’s too much.”
He wasn’t wrong. It was too much for anyone, let alone for a sixteen-year-old still juggling school and his own life. The unfairness of it burned, but I kept judgement out of my tone. “Do they have any help?”
He shook his head. “No. She’s asked for a nanny, even part-time, but he won’t pay for it. They fight about it all the time.”
Some things never changed. Steve had always been on the cheap side and clearly expected his new wife to do everything regarding the home. I tried not to let my irritation show.
“I’m sorry to hear things are bumpy. But you’re welcome here whenever you want. If your dad has an issue with that, I’ll handle it.”
Relief flickered across his face. “Thanks, Mom.”