Chapter 3 — Control and Chaos
Mia
Mia Carter’s heels clicked sharply against the polished tile floor as she made her way to the production booth. The newsroom was alive with its usual frenzied energy—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, hurried voices overlapping like a chaotic symphony. The faint hum of equipment underscored the tension, and the cool air-conditioning brushed against her skin like a fleeting reprieve from the storm. Clutching her leather-bound executive notebook tightly in her hand, Mia felt the weight of the night’s stakes pressing down on her.
“Ten minutes to air!” someone called from across the room.
Mia stepped into the glass-walled booth, its panoramic view overlooking the newsroom like a general surveying a battlefield. From here, she could see everything: the anchors rehearsing lines, the frantic adjustments to graphics on glowing monitors, and the controlled chaos of a live broadcast in its final moments of preparation.
“Mia,” one of the assistant producers, Kelly, piped up, her voice tight with worry. “We’ve got a glitch with the teleprompter output. It’s not syncing correctly with the script updates. The delay is getting worse.”
Mia’s jaw tightened, but her expression remained calm. “Of course it isn’t,” she muttered under her breath. Her pen flicked open the notebook to a precisely written list of contingency plans. The familiar motions steadied her, though a faint twisting in her chest betrayed her unease. If this spiraled out of control, it wouldn’t just be the segment at risk—it would be the reputation of Sunrise Daily, and by extension, her own.
“Elliot!” she called out, her tone cutting through the noise with practiced authority.
Elliot Marsh appeared at the doorway, his cardigan slightly askew and his ever-present chipped mug in hand. The faint aroma of coffee trailed behind him, as familiar and oddly comforting as his mischievous grin.
“Is this the part where I save the day with my dazzling wit and a one-liner?” he quipped, raising an eyebrow.
“The teleprompter’s malfunctioning,” Mia said sharply, ignoring his humor. “Get someone from tech to—”
“I’m already on it,” Elliot interrupted, raising a hand. “But if you want my advice, we also remind Laura King that ad-libbing is totally her thing. You know, when she’s not busy perfecting her death stare.”
Mia shot him a withering look, though a flicker of amusement tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Just fix it, Elliot.”
With a mock salute, Elliot disappeared into the chaos. Mia turned her attention back to the monitors, her green eyes scanning every frame with hawk-like intensity. A live broadcast didn’t allow for mistakes. Not on her watch.
Her gaze drifted to the studio set. Laura was seated at the glossy news desk, flipping through her notes with an air of effortless poise. Beneath her calm demeanor, Mia thought she detected a hint of irritation—the faintest twitch of her lips, a narrowing of her eyes—but Laura concealed it quickly.
Nearby, Jake Bennett leaned casually against a support column, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie slightly loosened. He was sipping from a paper coffee cup, his disheveled charm as maddening as ever. His presence stood out in the polished order she’d worked so hard to cultivate. Watching him, Mia couldn’t help but think of how much she was gambling tonight. Richard’s words echoed in her mind: *“This is the kind of edge we need, Mia.”* But if Jake’s segment didn’t land, she could already hear Richard’s sharp criticism—and worse, the newsroom’s whispers of her failure.
“Five minutes!” came another shout.
A sudden crackle of static in her earpiece interrupted Mia’s thoughts. The in-ear feed connecting the production booth to the control room sputtered, leaving the team momentarily deaf to the director’s instructions. Mia’s chest tightened, a flicker of doubt surfacing before she forced it down.
“Fantastic,” she muttered, grabbing the studio light remote control from the console like it was a lifeline. Adjusting the lights was one way she maintained authority over the show’s visual presentation. It was her domain—a reassuring piece of order in an otherwise chaotic world.
Her earpiece crackled again, louder this time. She yanked it out, her gaze snapping to the tech assistant.
“What’s going on with the comms?” she demanded, her voice sharp, though measured.
“Still troubleshooting, ma’am,” the assistant stammered, his hands fumbling over the console.
“Troubleshoot faster,” she replied, her tone steel.
The seconds ticked down, each one coiling the knot in her stomach tighter.
Then, without warning, the studio lights flickered.
Mia’s head whipped toward the monitors. On the live feed preview, Laura’s carefully crafted image was momentarily bathed in an unflattering, dim shadow. For a fraction of a second, Laura’s irritation broke through her polished anchor persona—a slight tightening of her mouth, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes—before it vanished.
Mia moved with precision, her fingers tapping furiously at the remote’s controls to override the presets. The studio lights steadied, returning to their flattering glow. Disaster averted—for now.
“Two minutes!”
Out of the corner of her eye, Mia saw Jake stride purposefully into the newsroom, drawing the attention of staffers who paused to glance at him. Even amid the chaos, his presence seemed to command notice. Mia bit the inside of her cheek, willing herself to stay focused.
She darted out of the booth, her heels clicking like a metronome as she intercepted him just before he reached the desk.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice low but firm.
Jake raised an eyebrow, his coffee cup still in hand. “Relax, Carter. I’m just checking in with Laura before we go live. Is that frowned upon?” His tone was casual, but there was a spark of defiance in his blue eyes.
“It is,” Mia replied, crossing her arms. “Go over your script. Stay in your lane.”
Jake smirked, sipping his coffee as if her words were a suggestion rather than an order. “Noted.”
He lingered a moment longer, his gaze searching hers, as if testing her patience. Finally, he gave her a small nod and retreated to his spot off-camera. Mia exhaled sharply, mentally counting to three to steady herself.
The countdown reached ten seconds.
Mia returned to the booth, her hands gripping the edges of the console as the director’s voice crackled back into her earpiece.
“We’re live in five… four… three…”
The newsroom hushed, save for the faint hum of equipment and Laura’s polished voice as she began the broadcast.
At first, everything ran smoothly. Laura transitioned between segments with her usual impeccable timing, her anchor persona flawless. But as Jake’s piece began—footage of government officials overlaying his voiceover narration—the screen glitched.
The video feed distorted, the images breaking into jagged lines before freezing entirely.
Mia’s heart stopped.
“Fix it,” she ordered sharply, her voice slicing through the rising panic in the booth.
“We’re trying!” Kelly’s voice wavered as her fingers flew over the keyboard.
In the studio, Jake noticed the glitch. For a brief moment, a flicker of tension crossed his face—so subtle most wouldn’t notice—but then he stepped into the shot.
“Sometimes, the truth can be a little messy,” he said smoothly, his voice steady. “But that’s not going to stop us from bringing it to light. Let’s start from the beginning.”
His words carried weight, a subtle nod to the importance of integrity in journalism. The room seemed to hold its breath as Jake improvised, weaving the technical failure into his narrative with remarkable ease. Even Mia, watching from the booth, couldn’t deny the impact.
Her hand hovered over the light controls, ensuring Jake was perfectly framed as he delivered his final lines directly to the camera. His charisma carried the segment, transforming what could have been a disaster into a moment of raw, compelling television.
When the segment ended, the newsroom erupted in applause. Staffers exchanged relieved smiles, the tension in the air dissolving almost instantly.
Laura, standing off to the side, clapped politely, though the tightness in her jaw betrayed her true feelings.
Jake returned to the newsroom floor, his expression triumphant. He caught Mia’s gaze through the glass walls of the booth, one eyebrow arched as if daring her to admit she was impressed.
Mia didn’t return the look. Instead, she closed her notebook with a decisive snap, pretending to review notes.
“Controlled chaos,” Elliot said, appearing at her side with his mug in hand. “Your favorite kind.”
Mia ignored his teasing, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.
“Let’s just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she said, her voice cool and composed.
But deep down, she knew the chaos wasn’t going anywhere—not with Jake Bennett around.
