Page 106 of Babies for the Big Shot
Jonah shrugs. “Maybe. It smells like her. But she usually leaves fingerprints. This?” He gestures at the file. “This is clean. Professional. No names, no direct claims. Just enough to getpeople talking… and just enough to get you in serious shit if the board sees it first.”
“She already said she was behind the texted photo,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. “Why stop there?”
“Because if this was her, she’s changed tactics. This is smarter. Colder. She wants blood.”
I lean back in my chair, the weight of it all crashing down in one brutal wave.
Sara.
The baby.
This goddamn mess unraveling in my office while I’m still picking glass out of my chest from yesterday.
“I need to talk to Sara.”
“Yeah,” Jonah says, quiet. “You do.”
I push back from my desk, the chair scraping across the floor, loud against the thick silence. I pull up my calendar, issuing orders before the thought even registers.
“Set up a meeting with legal and HR. Today. Before lunch.”
Jonah’s fingers are already moving across the keyboard. “Done. Want me in there with you?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “And get a hold of PR. I want eyes on any mention of this article, any keywords, hashtags… hell, set up a fucking Google Alert if you have to.”
He hesitates, then looks at me. “What about the board?”
The board.
The mention of them settles in my stomach.
They’ve tolerated me, let me work my way into a position of power because I’ve made this company sharper, leaner. Profitable. Untouchable. But this could break it all apart.
Sleeping with a subordinate. Rumors of favoritism. Scandal tied to my name… again.
This could crack the foundation if I don’t move fast enough.
“I’ll handle them,” I say, voice tight. “I’ll call a meeting. Today.”
Jonah raises an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want to wait and see how loud this thing gets?”
I meet his gaze. “If I wait, they’ll think I’m hiding. Or worse, guilty. I need to control the narrative before they start spinning it without me.”
He nods, understanding. “Good. Because they’ll be looking for a scapegoat. And if it’s not you, it’s going to be?—”
“Sara,” I finish for him, voice low, the anger crawling up my throat.
His silence speaks volumes.
They’ll go after her.
Even if none of this is true. Even if there’s no policy violation, no misuse of power. Even if what we had was real, mutual, honest. The board doesn’t care about any of that.
They care about perception. Leverage. And she’s the easiest target.
I slam the folder shut, force it into a drawer with a snap.
“If this is war, we’re not showing up with rubber bullets,” I growl. “Get me everything on that gossip site. IPs. Domains. Ad sponsors. I want names.”
