Chapter Text
Rhea Ripley hated Mondays on principle.
They were loud, demanding, full of people who thought their emergencies deserved her personal attention. This particular Monday had gone a step further and decided to crawl under her skin and take up residence.
Fourteen hours of back-to-back meetings had etched a faint ache behind her eyes. Projections, valuations, legal risk assessments, everyone wanted sign-off, assurances, guarantees that “Project X” would go smoothly.
That it would take Nightmare Industries public without a hitch.
Outside her office, Adelaide’s skyline was bleeding into dusk, the glass towers catching the last smear of sun and turning it into fire. Inside, the nineteenth floor of Nightmare Headquarters hummed with a dull, persistent energy. A few lights still burned in the open-plan spaces outside her door. Somewhere, a printer whirred. Someone laughed too loudly, then immediately quieted when they remembered who shared the floor.
Rhea rubbed at the knot in her neck and forced her attention back to the spreadsheet on her screen. Numbers calmed her. They were obedient, predictable. They didn’t come into her office with their personal catastrophes and ask her for things she didn’t have time to give.
“Ms. Ripley?”
The intercom on her desk crackled to life with her assistant Francesca’s voice, too careful to be casual.
Rhea’s fingers stilled on the keyboard. “Yes?”
“There’s been a development with Project X.” A pause. “It’s about Anna Holding.”
Rhea’s jaw tightened. “Put it through.”
The door, not the phone, opened instead.
Francesca stepped in, dark hair pulled into a sleek knot, tablet clutched like a shield to her chest. She closed the door softly behind her and walked up to the desk, shoulders slightly tense in that way that said whatever she was about to deliver, she’d already tried to fix it before involving Rhea.
Rhea leaned back in her chair, black leather complaining softly under the movement. “This had better somehow be good news.”
Francesca winced. “Anna’s here to see you. It’s…personal.”
Of course it is.
Rhea exhaled through her nose. “Send her in.”
Francesca slipped back out. A moment later, there was a knock, then Anna Holding stepped into the office.
If Rhea had a list of people she trusted, Anna would sit near the top. For five years, Anna had taken every impossible deadline Rhea threw at her and somehow turned out results that exceeded expectations. Calm under pressure, brilliant with strategy, obsessively thorough, if Project X was a rocket, Anna had been the one quietly assembling it piece by piece.
Today, however, Anna didn’t look calm. She looked…nervous. Her hands were wrapped around a folder a shade too tightly, knuckles pale. The faint glow of the city lights framed her from behind.
“Evening, Ms. Ripley,” she said, her voice soft.
“Evening,” Rhea replied. “I thought you’d already left. Sit.”
Anna did, lowering herself into the chair opposite the desk. For a second, her gaze dropped to her lap, and the unusual hesitance in her movement finally snagged Rhea’s attention.
“Is something wrong with the rollout?” Rhea asked. “Because if legal changed their mind about the risk disclosures again, I—”
“It’s not that,” Anna interrupted gently. “The rollout is…on track. For now.”
Rhea narrowed her eyes. “Then what?”
Anna took a breath, then set the folder on the edge of the desk and pushed it forward. Her hand rested subtly over her stomach as she sat back.
Rhea’s gaze followed the motion.
Ah.
“How far along?” she asked, before she even realized she’d made the leap.
Anna blinked, then gave a sheepish smile. “Four months.” She let out a small laugh. “I was going to wait until after the launch, but my doctor…well...she disagreed rather strongly with that plan.”
Four months. Rhea’s brain immediately started slotting timelines together, rearranging calendars, overlaying them with the milestones of Project X. Investor roadshows. Regulatory sign-offs. Media embargoes. She could see the problem before Anna said another word.
“You’re taking leave,” Rhea said flatly.
“I need to,” Anna replied, apologetic. “My blood pressure’s been high. The travel, the hours…they’re not safe. HR has my formal notice, but I wanted to tell you myself. I’ll be out for at least six months, starting in three weeks.”
Three weeks.
Rhea stared at her, the office suddenly feeling very small. “And Project X?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
“I’ve documented everything,” Anna said quickly, tapping the folder. “Roadmaps, contingency plans, stakeholder matrices. I’ve outlined a proposed transition for an interim project lead.”
“Interim,” Rhea repeated. “Because you’re coming back.”
Anna smiled, a little relieved at the assumption. “If you’ll still have me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rhea said. “You’re one of the few people here who hasn’t disappointed me repeatedly. I’m not about to throw that away because you decided to have a baby.”
Something like emotion flickered in Anna’s eyes. “Thank you.”
Rhea nodded once, then flicked the folder open with practiced efficiency. Her eyes skimmed over the headings—Critical Path Dependencies, Key Investors, Governance Structure, but the word “Suggested Replacements” snagged her.
“Who?” she asked.
“Internal options are limited,” Anna admitted. “We need someone who can handle the pressure and isn’t afraid of the scrutiny that comes with an IPO. I’ve been working with Maya in finance, but she’s stretched thin as it is. I think we need fresh talent.”
Rhea raised an eyebrow. “Fresh talent. During the most critical phase of the largest project this company has ever taken on.”
“Yes,” Anna said calmly. “If we choose correctly.”
Rhea sat back, folding her arms. “I assume you have candidates.”
“Shortlist of three,” Anna said. “But one stands out. I’ve already had preliminary conversations with her. She’s sharp. Ambitious. She reminds me of…” She hesitated, then smiled. “Well, you. Younger, obviously.”
Rhea’s mouth twitched despite herself. “That’s a dangerous recommendation, Anna.”
“It’s honest.”
Rhea closed the folder, tapped her fingers on the cover. “What’s her name?”
“Olivia Morgan. Goes by Liv.” Anna’s tone softened, intrigued even now. “She’s currently heading strategic initiatives at a fintech startup in Melbourne. Before that, she was with one of the big four consultancy firms. She’s led pre-IPO transformations before, on a smaller scale.”
“Why would she leave all that,” Rhea said, “to come here and clean up our chaos?”
Anna’s smile turned knowing. “Because she’s ambitious enough to want her name attached to the thing everyone will be talking about for the next year. And because Nightmare Industries is not just ‘our chaos,’ as you put it. It’s poised to be the chaos.”
Rhea considered that. Ego, properly harnessed, could be useful.
“I’ve set up an interview for her,” Anna added. “Tomorrow afternoon with Liam from HR.”
“Good,” Rhea said. “Keep me updated.”
Anna’s expression flickered again, guilt this time. “That’s the other thing. Liam’s not coming in.”
Rhea’s patience began to fray. “Excuse me?”
“His father passed away over the weekend,” Anna said softly. “HR’s down to skeleton staff. No one else is senior enough to vet a project lead for X. We either delay the hire, or…”
“Or what.”
Anna’s gaze lifted to meet hers steadily. “Or you interview her.”
The room seemed to tilt for a fraction of a second.
Rhea almost laughed. “You want me, in the middle of roadshow prep and board politics, to play hiring manager.”
“I know it’s not ideal,” Anna said quickly. “But this is critical. We can’t hand Project X to someone you don’t trust. And frankly, Liv deserves to meet the person she’ll actually be reporting to.”
Rhea drummed her fingers once more on the folder, her nails clicking softly against the glossy card stock. She despised interviews. Hokey rehearsed answers, inflated resumes, nervous laughter. She made decisions based on performance, not potential.
But she also despised handing over control.
“Fine,” she said. “When?”
Anna checked her watch. “She lands in Adelaide at eight tomorrow morning. She rearranged her schedule to come in on short notice. I told her we’d confirm a time.”
Rhea sighed. “Book her for nine. If she can’t handle me before coffee, she’s not cut out for this.”
Anna smiled in that small, knowing way that made Rhea almost suspicious. “I’ll let Francesca know. And…thank you. For being understanding. About the baby.”
Rhea waved a hand. “Go home, Anna. Take the night. We’ll survive tomorrow.”
Once the door closed behind her, the office seemed to fall into a heavier kind of silence. Outside, the last streaks of color were fading from the sky, leaving the city a grid of gold squares. Rhea stared at the folder, then flipped it open again, this time heading straight to the tab marked “Prospective Interim Leadership.”
A resume, crisp and efficient, stared back at her.
Olivia Morgan
The bullet points were sharp. Top of her class at university. Two promotions in three years at the consultancy firm. Led a cross-functional team through a series B funding round at the current startup, spearheading strategic pivots that had doubled their valuation in eighteen months.
Rhea’s gaze snagged on a line: Known for unconventional solutions and ability to ‘bring people with her’ through change.
Unconventional. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Necessary in the right ones.
She checked the attached headshot and stopped.
Blonde hair that somehow managed to look both wild and intentional, falling over one shoulder with careless confidence. Blue eyes that seemed to shine even through the flatness of a corporate photo, the hint of mischief there at odds with the professional blazer and neatly knotted blouse. A mouth curved into a half-smile that hovered somewhere between challenge and invitation.
Rhea closed the tab a beat too late.
Ridiculous. It was a headshot, not an invitation.
She shut the folder, placed it at the far right corner of her desk, and turned back to her laptop. There were still three decks she needed to review before she could even pretend to consider leaving for the night.
But as the hours trickled past and the building thinned out, she found her gaze drifting back to that corner more often than she’d admit.