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A parachuted executive was bound to face challenges from those below.
If it were a seasoned veteran who had already proven themselves within the industry, there would at least be fewer complaints. At worst, there would be some uncooperative old-timers, and both sides would need time to work things out and find a compromise.
But if the newcomer were an outsider in everyone's eyes, there was no need to question whether he was qualified at all. People would simply pile work onto his desk and wait for results.
The moment he showed any sign of incompetence, the other executives could openly carve up the authority in his hands and reduce the new CEO to a figurehead.
That was why rich young men who came merely to "gild" their résumés—or to chase women—usually brought one or two industry veterans with them, people familiar with the internal workings of film companies, to handle day-to-day affairs. Or they would simply delegate power outright.
To such people, a flashy title mattered far more than actual authority within the company. They were there to add polish to their profiles, not to work themselves to the bone.
But this new CEO had arrived alone, bringing no one with him at all. That left everyone baffled, with no choice but to test him.
The person leading the tour was a woman from the administrative department. She was the unlucky soul who had lost a round of rock-paper-scissors before Henry entered the building and was thus assigned the task of guiding the new CEO through the company.
She was a chubby Black woman, fairly new to the company, with no standout achievements—steady, unremarkable, and dependable. For a lethargic, aging company like Stark Pictures, that kind of performance was just right.
Aggression and risk-taking were precisely the traits the company least needed.
The company building itself matched the atmosphere. Constructed after World War II, it had once featured the latest architectural techniques and top-tier designers of its era, but half a century of time had inevitably caught up with it.
It wasn't falling apart—there were no exposed rebar or burst pipes—but the mottled patches in the corners spoke silently of its age.
As Henry walked through each department, every employee seemed to have made a pact: all of them kept their heads down, focused on their own work. Not a single person stood up to welcome the new CEO.
Even skipping a pointless welcome ceremony was one thing, but not even having someone step forward to introduce the department's functions was pushing it.
In the end, it was the Black woman who awkwardly squeezed out what little information she could, scraping her brain dry to explain things on behalf of entire departments playing dead, barely preventing the situation from becoming unbearably embarrassing.
When Henry entered the CEO's office—clearly cleaned in advance, not a speck of dust in sight—what caught his eye was not some European or minimalist décor.
Instead, it was the mountain of documents piled on the desk.
The stacks looked ready to bury anyone who dared sit behind that desk alive. Henry could only sympathize with the employees who had carried all that paperwork in—this must have taken several trips even with carts.
The Black woman stood there nervously with her head lowered, hands clasped restlessly in front of her stomach, rubbing them together.
"Mr. Brown, these are documents submitted by department heads for approval. Since there was no CEO before, they handled these matters on their own.
"But now that you've assumed the position, regulations require that all of these receive your approval before they can be implemented or rejected. And none of these can be delayed—if approval is late by even a day, the company's operations might run into trouble tomorrow."
"Oh?" Henry let out an amused sound, listening to what was essentially a veiled threat.
Of course, he understood that these weren't words the girl wanted to say. She was clearly being forced to speak on others' behalf—otherwise she wouldn't look like she wanted to dig a hole and hide.
"Julian, right? That's your name."
"Yes, Mr. Brown."
"Julian, I noticed earlier that I didn't see a company archive or records room—somewhere to store past meeting minutes and corporate materials. Which department manages that? Could you take me there?"
"The archive is managed by the administrative department. It's usually locked, and the key is kept in our office. I can take you there. Do you want to go now?"
"Yes. Let's go. I need to look through the old materials and see how everyone used to operate."
"Understood. Please follow me."
The chubby Black woman led the way.
Truth be told, if this had been before he started dating Charlize, Henry would probably already be cracking jokes nonstop, showing off his charming, humorous gentleman persona.
But now that he had a girlfriend—and held a position above everyone else—flirtatious remarks could easily be misconstrued as abuse of power or sexual harassment. For the sake of avoiding trouble, it was necessary to rein in his mouth a bit.
Besides… Black girls really weren't his type.
In American companies, the administrative department was roughly equivalent to a general affairs section or secretariat—handling miscellaneous tasks such as cleaning, basic equipment maintenance and replacement, and purchasing office supplies.
Such departments didn't hold much formal power, but their importance was undeniable. Especially when someone learned how to use consumables—paper, staples, pens, and the like—to block others, they could effectively raise their own standing within the company.
That tended to breed a certain arrogance among those in charge.
Even when Henry, the new CEO, walked in, the head of the administrative department sat there brazenly at his desk. His legs were propped up on the tabletop, chair tilted back, whistling casually as if he hadn't seen anyone enter.
The chubby Black woman cautiously stepped forward.
"Director, Mr. Brown needs to enter the archive room. He's here to get the key from you."
"The archive contains Stark Pictures' historical materials, including film masters. It's very important," the director said. "Is it somewhere just anyone can walk into?"
After scolding the girl, he finally pretended to notice Henry.
Standing up, he put on an exaggerated expression.
"Well, if it isn't our new CEO. I thought you'd be partying with Mr. Stark for a few days and nights straight. Didn't expect you to show up at the company so soon.
"But unfortunately, the archive room is a sensitive area. Someone like you, who doesn't know anything yet, shouldn't go in and cause trouble. It wouldn't be good if something went missing, right?"
Henry smiled.
"So you're saying I'm not qualified to enter? Is that what you mean?"
"Of course not—how could I think that? You're the CEO appointed by Mr. Stark, after all. It's just that you have a mountain of documents waiting for your attention on your desk. Instead of dealing with those, you're coming here to bother the administrative department. That could affect company operations, you know."
"That's exactly why I want to look at old documents and meeting records—to understand how the company operates and makes decisions," Henry replied calmly.
"I walked all the way here, and no one bothered to explain how I'm supposed to coordinate with anyone. What—am I not even allowed to learn on my own?"
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