The 40th-floor finance suite was usually a temple of quiet calculation. At ten o'clock on Monday morning, it sounded like a minor war.
"Absolutely not." Carter Cross didn't look up from his tablet, his voice clipped and precise. "You cannot reallocate thirty thousand dollars to custom video rendering without a three-tier sign-off. That's not me being difficult, Miss Bennett. That's the actual policy."
Across the table, Chloe Bennett — Elena's creative lead, all bright lipstick and barely contained energy — threw her hands up. "The policy was written for a department that still thought stock footage was cutting-edge, Carter. I'm trying to make something people actually want to watch."
"And I'm trying to make sure this company doesn't get audited into the ground." Carter finally looked up
