Page 9 of Miss Manage

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.