Page 6 of The Authenticity Clause
"Then let him be our disaster," Sarah said, stopping in front of him. Her expression was no longer just enthusiastic; it was serious. "I’m not asking you to sign him to a lifetime contract. Give him a probationary period. Thirty days. We throw him onto the Northwind project, right into the deep end, and we see if he swims. If you're right, and he’s a fraud, we cut him loose. No harm, no foul. But if I’m right…" She left the sentence hanging in the air, a challenge he couldn't ignore.
Julian was silent for a long time. He replayed the interview in his mind: the charming, evasive answers; the ridiculous metaphors; the sudden, disarming moment of honesty at the end. He thought of the elegant solution to the Borealis problem. He thought of the sheer, unmitigated chaos this man would introduce into his perfectly ordered environment.
Every rational part of his brain, every instinct honed by years of managing projects and people, was screaming at him to say no.
But Sarah was his partner. And he had never known her gut instinct to be wrong.
The frustration didn't vanish, but it began to change, to cool and solidify into something else. Something harder. A challenge.
"Fine," Julian said, the word sharp. "Thirty days. But he reports directly to me. Every task, every email, every single design will go through me first. I will be his shadow."
Sarah’s smile returned, triumphant. "I knew you'd see it my way."
"I don't see it your way," he corrected her, his voice flat. "I see a hypothesis that needs to be tested. You believe he's a necessary disruption. I believe he's an unqualified amateur who got lucky once. I am more than happy to be proven right."
"Whatever you need to tell yourself," she said with a wink. "I'll have HR send him the offer."
She left him there, alone in the silent conference room. The pristine order of the space felt different now. It felt like a calm before a storm. Julian stood and walked to the window, looking out over the neat, geometric lines of the city below.
He had lost the argument, but he had established the terms of engagement. He would give Leo Hayes his thirty days. He would give him the opportunity. And he would watch, with the cold, impartial focus of a scientist, as the chaos variable either adapted or imploded.
A strange, unfamiliar feeling settled over him. It wasn't anger anymore. It was a sharp, focused sense of determination.
A test had been set. And Julian Thorne had no intention of losing.
Chapter 5: The Creative Onboarding
Leo had a theory that you could tell everything you needed to know about a person by their chosen color palette. His own was a chaotic, joyful explosion of sunset oranges, sea-foam greens, and the occasional, unapologetic splash of flamingo pink. It was the color palette of someone whose life motto was, essentially,let’s see what happens.
The collective color palette of Vance & Sterling Creative, he quickly discovered, was the void.
He stood in the lobby on his first day, a human sunbeam in a mustard-yellow sweater, feeling like he’d accidentally wandered into a film noir. Everyone who glided past him was dressed in a sleek, elegant uniform of black, charcoal gray, or the occasional daring shade of navy. They were a flock of chic, intimidatingly competent ravens, and he was a lost, slightly bewildered canary.
Okay, new plan,his inner monologue chirped, its voice tight with panic.Blend in. Be the most professional, synergizing canary they’ve ever seen. Be… grayscale.
A woman from HR with a tablet and an unnervingly serene smile led him through the main workspace. It was an open-plan office,but instead of the noisy, collaborative chaos Leo associated with such spaces, it was a cathedral of quiet focus. The only sounds were the soft clacking of keyboards and the gentle hum of the air conditioning. Desks were clean, wires were hidden, and the sheer lack of clutter made Leo’s own apartment seem like a national disaster area.
"This will be your station," the HR woman said, gesturing to a pristine white desk situated between a concrete pillar and a giant fiddle-leaf fig tree that looked more perfect than any real plant had a right to be. "Julian will be over shortly to get you started. Welcome to the team."
She glided away, leaving Leo standing alone in the silence. He tentatively sat down in the ergonomic chair, which immediately tried to correct his posture with the judgmental firmness of a disappointed parent. He unpacked his bag, placing his sketchbook, a rainbow assortment of pens, and his favorite coffee mug—a bright orange monstrosity shaped like a fox—on the desk. The items looked scandalous in their stark white surroundings, like tiny, colorful protestors at a minimalist convention.
"Love the mug."
Leo jumped. The voice came from the desk next to him. A woman with sharp, cat-eye glasses and dark, curly hair tied up in a messy bun was peering at him over the top of her monitor. Unlike everyone else, she had a small succulent on her desk wearing a tiny sombrero. She was an oasis of personality in a desert of corporate chic.
"Thanks," Leo said, his voice full of relief. "He’s my emotional support fox."
She grinned, a flash of genuine warmth. "You're going to need him. I'm Maya. I write copy, which is a fancy way of saying I argue with designers about the placement of commas."
"Leo. I… design experiences," he said, the fraudulent title feeling heavy and absurd on his tongue. "Apparently."
"Ah, the new chosen one," Maya said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We heard rumors. The guy who charmed Sarah and made Julian’s jaw twitch. That’s like a Bigfoot sighting around here. A very handsome, very grumpy Bigfoot."
Leo felt a blush creep up his neck. "I wouldn't say I charmed him. It was more like he was studying me for signs of a rare tropical disease."
"That's his version of charm," she deadpanned. "Just some friendly advice: he runs on black coffee and logic. He hates unnecessary adjectives. And whatever you do, donotmove his pens. A guy in accounting did that once. We haven't seen him since."
Before Leo could ask if she was kidding, a shadow fell over his desk. The ambient temperature seemed to drop several degrees. Both he and Maya straightened up immediately.
