Page 110 of Executive Decision

“I don’t know, sir.”

I looked at the clock, then shook my head. It probably had to do with the board vote. I assumed she was panicking ahead of it.

“I will call her late this afternoon. If she calls again, tell her I am in back-to-back meetings.”

I hated to duck Daphne. I wanted to be there for her. However, if I did not put these fires out, there would be no me left to do anything. I was so embarrassed I could even look at her this morning. I worried I’d lashed out and ruined everything, but somehow, she clung to me for reassurance. I didn’t want to ruin her moment. She had to understand.

Around two, still very hungry. I stood in a press room at a podium with a series of talking points. But immediately, all my best laid plans went out the window. I spoke for only two minutes explaining that by holding up negotiations, the union was putting the lives of their own officers at risk leading up to the DNC. It killed me to throw anyone under the bus, but I needed everyone to trust us. I needed to project strength.

Jeremy Mont, a reporter from theDaily Tribuneraised his hand. “Sir, do you wish to comment on the allegations about Daphne Delphine?”

I rolled my eyes and leaned into the training Jo gave me earlier. “My personal life is irrelevant. Can we please get back to the very serious matter at hand?”

ATimesreporter’s hand shot up. “So, are you or are you not dating her?”

I shook my head. “What difference does that make?”

“Some people have doubts about her suitability given the video.”

What video? I stammered, “I… I am allowed to take dinner with anyone I want to.”

“Even if they are involved in… adult videos?” Another reporter asked.

“What video? Adult videos?” I scoffed.

John piped up. “We received this about twenty minutes ago from a UK paper.”

“Well, are you going to elaborate or show me?” I demanded.

“Sir, the video is graphic. I don’t really?—”

“Either show me or stop talking about it,” I was sharp and impatient.

My heart raced as John stepped forward. I’d known him for about twenty years. As long as I could remember, the old man was a reliable reporter—one who cared deeply about the city. I trusted him more than anyone else in the audience. He wasn’t always easy on me, but he was honest. Right now, his pained face gave me pause. What could be on the tape?

John hit play and handed me his phone. It was thankfully on mute. Unfortunately, someone had gleefully captioned it—complete with onomatopoeia. The video showed Daphne in a bra and panties down on her knees—frightened. She looked up at someone—someone I assumed was Chandler. She was clearly being forced to give a blowjob on camera. Her face looked washed out and miserable. If the tape was real, it was a very bad night for her. If it was AI, it was just as insidious. Chandler fired back at her for the divorce, and he’d decided to take us all down with him.

I handed the phone back, fighting an emotional breakdown on cable.

“I don’t know what to say other than Ms. Delphine would never in a million years release such a tape. Whether it’s a deep fake or not, I couldn’t tell you.”

“Is that you in the video?” Someone called.

“Absolutely not!” I shouted.

The room quieted and I tempered my anger. “I am sorry, but this is not the press conference I expected. The point being is, I’ve known and worked with Daphne for more than ten years. She is a person of exceptional character and capability. That is all I will say.”

The press erupted with more questions.

Someone shouted, “So do you know she was named President of Delphine Holdings in a shakeup this morning?”

“I was unaware,” I lied. “Good for her.”

“And you own shares in?—”

“A company I own owns shares in Delphine Holdings. Its executor, however, manages all of those matters.”

“But is it not true that you were seen out with Miss Delphine several times over the last week?”

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