Chapter 46

CHAPTER 46

SIMON

I drove to the PR rep's office. The building was nestled in the historic district. I was glad to meet at her office instead of mine. Dana had told me there was still a swarm of protestors outside the building. I didn't want to deal with them. Especially not before I got the chance to meet with the experts about what I was supposed to say when confronted again.

Her top-floor office offered breathtaking views of the city. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the bustling streets below, and waited for Katarina to come in.

"Sorry, Simon," she said as she breezed into the office. "It's been one of those weeks."

"The statement is on your desk," I said, walking around to sit in one of the chairs.

She sat down and picked up the statement I had written and printed for her to review at her request. I watched her expression as she reviewed the statement I had written. She put it down, her red pen tapping rhythmically against the polished surface of her glass desk.

Her office was a testament to her no-nonsense approach: sleek, modern, and efficient, with not a single item out of place. Katarina herself was the epitome of capability. Fit and always juggling a dozen things at once, she exuded an air of confidence that was both reassuring and intimidating. She was the best in the business. She dealt with celebrities and politicians all the time. If someone found themselves in a mess, she was the one to call. She came at a high price and only took the type of clientele that could pay her fees.

I waited for her to say something. She was hard to read. I heard an uncertain sound escape her throat, followed by the unmistakable scratch of her pen on the paper. Her red pen was scratching across the statement I took the time to write.

"You hate it?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"I hate it," she confirmed, not looking up from the paper.

I grunted, trying to hide my frustration. "And here I thought it was honest. Direct. To the point. Your cup of tea, most of the time."

"Not if it means my client is going to be chum in the water for the sharks. It's nice, but nice isn't your forte, and it's not going to accomplish what you think it might. People will see this as a weakness, and they'll dig their heels in harder. What is this, Simon?" She held up the paper and read one of the sentences I'd written. "‘I feel remorse over the damage this incident has caused.' Are you out of your mind?"

"It's the truth?" I replied, arching an eyebrow.

She stared at me, like she was trying to decide if I was really me. I stared back. Her eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. "You're going soft."

I laughed, the sound hollow even to my own ears. From where I was standing, going soft wasn't such a bad thing. In fact, my life had only begun to improve now that I was willing to let myself feel and care. It was opening me up. I thought I could bring that same approach to the public. If only they could see that I wasn't the unfeeling oil and gas mogul they thought I was, maybe they'd drop this petition and back off altogether.

Katarina, however, had other ideas. "No. Nice doesn't work. You need to be firm."

She made adjustments with her red pen until it was a completely different document. She handed it back to me.

"I'll have my assistant type up the new version," she said. "Review that one."

I took the paper from her and skimmed over the revised statement. It was undeniably more firm, more authoritative. It was also less me.

"Will this win them over?" I asked, a tinge of skepticism lingering in my voice.

"It's not about winning them over, Simon," she replied, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. "It's about showing them you're not going to be pushed around. You have to put your foot down. They don't get to harass you. You're a businessman. Shit happens. People need to move on."

I nodded, even though I felt discomfort with the new statement. It was true that I wasn't willing to be pushed around, but there was a part of me that wanted to show the world that I could change, that I was more than just an oil mogul who didn't care about what happened.

She checked the time, and I knew it was time to head to the hotel where I was supposed to deliver the press release in a set press conference. "Do you want it on a teleprompter?"

"No," I said. "I don't want to read from a teleprompter. This has to look real. Natural."

"In this situation, it doesn't matter," she said. "This is about you coming back, making it clear you're in charge. They don't get to tell you what to do. We'll ride together."

It wasn't a question. I didn't argue with her because I knew she already had the security arranged. I wasn't trying to get pelted with eggs or possibly worse.

We took a car to the hotel together. The ride was silent, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on me. Katarina was rapid-fire texting. I could only imagine what crisis she was managing.

Security was waiting to take us through the service entrance. We were escorted through the kitchen and down an employee-only hallway. I waited on the other side of the door, listening to the hum of reporters on the other side. Katarina straightened my tie, smoothed out the shoulders of my suit jacket. "Don't answer questions. Read the statement. Move on. Done. Do not show any reaction."

I nodded, agreeing to the plan. It sounded simple enough. I was paying her to give me good advice.

The door opened a few inches. One of her staffers popped out. "We're ready," he said.

"I'll be right behind," Katarina said.

I stepped into the room and was immediately bombarded by camera flashes and a rush of questions. I knew better than to answer any of the questions being shouted at me.

"How are you going to make things right with the residents you impacted?"

"Do you know how much value homeowners have lost because of this sloppy mistake?"

"Do you feel bad?"

"Are there going to be terminations for those responsible?"

I inhaled deeply and began reading the statement Katarina had edited, or rather, rewritten. "What happened at the oil refinery was an unavoidable error due to malfunctioning machines and corrupted data." I felt my brow furrow and tried to smooth it out. Since when had they concluded that? "Every measure to ensure this never happens again is being taken. I understand and acknowledge the toll this has taken on the neighborhood, but?—"

I broke off, the words on the paper suddenly feeling foreign and wrong. I glanced up, the room tense with silence. The only sound was the clicking of the many cameras pointed at me. I glanced to my right and saw Katarina looking at me like I was about to blow up my life. I saw the warning in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said, the words coming out more naturally than I expected. Then I said it again. "I'm sorry this happened. It's unacceptable. The repercussions have been dire, and the spill impacted residents, not me. I'd like to sit down with representatives of those residents and work out a compromise, if they're willing to talk to me."

The room exploded with questions, but I didn't stick around to answer them. I walked out with Katarina on my heels. "That was a huge mistake," she hissed. "This is so much worse. Do you know how many favors I'm going to have to call in to get those people to shift the narrative. An apology is an acceptance of responsibility. You never apologize! That was stupid!"

If that was the case, why did I feel like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders? Why did I feel like I could breathe again? I kept walking, ignoring the clap of Katarina's heels and her ordering her staff around.

She caught up to me just as I was about to push open the door to make my escape. "Do you have any idea what you just did in there?" The frustration and anger were evident in her voice.

"I spoke the truth," I replied, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over me.

"You went off script! We had a plan, Simon. You can't just improvise like that in front of the media."

I stopped and turned to face her. "Katarina, the script felt wrong. The people deserve honesty, not another polished lie. They're not idiots. They know when they're being fed a line of bullshit."

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You might think that, but there's a way to handle these situations. Now we have to deal with the fallout."

"I'm ready for it," I said, surprising myself with my conviction. "I'm tired of playing the game. If I'm going to face the consequences, I'd rather do it standing up and speaking the truth. Those lies will be found out and then I'm going to have to apologize for lying. It'll be a never-ending cycle."

Katarina shook her head, clearly not convinced. "You're going to regret this."

"Maybe," I admitted. "But for now, it feels right."

She glanced at her watch, the lines of worry etched deeply into her face. "We need to get back to the office. Damage control is going to be a nightmare."

She was on the phone the whole ride back, completely ignoring me. I couldn't help but replay the press conference in my mind. I knew Katarina was right to be concerned. The media would have a field day with my unscripted apology. But there was also a part of me that felt liberated. For too long, I'd hidden behind carefully crafted statements and strategic deflections. It was time to face the music, no matter how harsh the tune. Clearly, what we had been doing wasn't working.

Back at Katarina's office, the atmosphere was tense. Her team was already scrambling to address the fallout, phones ringing off the hook and emails flooding in. Katarina dove into action, barking orders and coordinating responses. I watched for a moment, feeling a mix of guilt and admiration for her relentless drive. She was pacing her office while her assistant wrote down everything Katarina was saying.

Once the assistant left, Katarina moved to sit behind her desk. She took a deep breath and rubbed her temples.

She looked up from her desk, her expression softening slightly when she saw me. "Go home, Simon. We'll handle this."

"I want to help," I said, knowing it was a weak offer.

"You've done enough for today," she replied, not unkindly. "Trust us to clean up the mess. That's what you pay me to do. Just know, this is a big one. This is going to take some magic."

I nodded, knowing she was right. "Thank you, Katarina. I appreciate everything you're doing. I'm sorry if I've made your job harder. I just couldn't keep spinning. Honesty is the best policy, right?"

She gave me a tight smile. "I don't believe that for even a second. My job is about massaging the truth."

"Well, I sure as hell feel better."

"Just remember, Simon, this isn't over. We have a long road ahead."

I walked out of her office and felt a strange sense of clarity. I knew there would be challenges, but for the first time in a long while, I felt like I was facing those challenges on my own terms.

Driving back to my house, I thought about Rylee and the conversation we'd had that morning. She reminded me of the importance of honesty and transparency. I knew she'd be proud of what I'd done, even if it wasn't the smoothest move from a PR standpoint.