Page 14 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

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 apreview 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."

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