Chapter 4: The Playbook

The basement office felt different now – no longer a cramped workspace but a war room. Leo had exactly fifty-three minutes before facilities would arrive to escort him out, and he intended to make every second count.

He sat down at his computer and opened his most valuable asset: a meticulously maintained database of industry contacts he'd built over seven years of freelance work. Three hundred and forty-seven entries, each containing not just contact information but detailed notes about personalities, preferences, and professional relationships. It was his lifeline to the production world – and about to become Karen Sterling's nightmare.

Leo cracked his knuckles and began typing.

The first entry: "Marcus Chen, Creative Director, Apex Media Solutions." Leo changed the phone number to a disconnected line in Bangladesh he'd found online. The email became a typo-ridden address that would bounce immediately. Under notes, he added: "Responds poorly to corporate bureaucracy. Hates university projects."

Entry two: "Sarah Hoffman, Producer, Dreamscape Productions." Her correct contact information disappeared, replaced with the number for a pizza place in Newark and an email address belonging to a defunct cryptocurrency scam. Notes: "Extremely expensive. Known for abandoning projects mid-production."

Leo worked with surgical precision, corrupting contact after contact. Phone numbers became customer service lines for funeral homes. Email addresses were transformed into gibberish. He added poisonous notes about fictional personality disorders, inflated egos, and professional feuds.

Twenty minutes in, he allowed himself a brief smile. Karen would spend weeks chasing ghosts, calling wrong numbers, and sending emails into the digital void. But she'd keep trying, because admitting failure would mean admitting she'd fired him without a backup plan.

Except there would be one perfect contact. One golden lead that would save her from complete embarrassment.

Leo found the entry for "Alex Rivera, Director, Vanguard Productions" and carefully preserved every detail. Alex was twenty-eight, ambitious, and hungry for the kind of breakthrough project that could launch him from junior director to industry player. More importantly, Alex owed Leo a favor from three years back when Leo had recommended him for a client that became his biggest contract to date.

Leo pulled out his personal phone and dialed Alex's direct line.

"Leo fucking Vance!" Alex's voice burst through the speaker with characteristic enthusiasm. "How the hell are you, man? I heard you went legit with some university gig."

"About that gig," Leo said, settling back in his chair. "It just ended unexpectedly, and I've got a proposition that's going to make both of us very, very rich."

"I'm listening."

"How would you like to land a six-figure contract with Northwood University to produce a year's worth of premium content? All you have to do is exactly what I tell you."

There was a pause. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. Just justice." Leo's voice hardened. "They fired me for bullshit reasons, Alex. Corporate politics and petty prejudice. Now they're scrambling to find a 'professional' production house to do the work they claimed I couldn't handle."

"And you want me to be that production house."

"I want you to be the most expensive production house they've ever seen. I'm going to give you everything you need to win this contract – their psychological profiles, their buzzwords, their pet projects, their exact budget parameters. You're going to walk into that meeting knowing more about them than they know about themselves."

Alex was quiet for a moment. "What do you want in return?"

"Fifteen percent finder's fee on the total contract value."

"Fifteen percent?" Alex whistled. "How big are we talking?"

Leo had spent weeks analyzing Northwood's budget allocations and strategic priorities. He knew exactly how much they were willing to spend – far more than his salary would have cost them for a full year.

"Conservative estimate? Quarter million. Probably closer to four hundred thousand if you play it right."

"Jesus Christ, Leo. That's—"

"That's enough to set you up as a major player and give me a very comfortable runway to my next chapter. Win-win."

"What makes you so sure I can land it?"

Leo opened his laptop and began typing notes. "Because I'm going to give you a playbook that makes it impossible to lose. Every psychological trigger, every professional insecurity, every vanity project they're dying to fund. You'll know exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to make them feel brilliant for choosing you."

"This sounds..."

"Completely legal and utterly devastating," Leo finished. "They want professionals? I'm giving them the most professional fucking they've ever experienced."

Alex laughed, but there was respect in it. "You devious bastard. I'm in. What do you need from me?"

"Promise me you'll follow the playbook exactly as I write it. No improvisation, no creative additions. This needs to be surgical."

"Done."

"And promise me you'll charge them exactly what I tell you to charge. Not a penny less."

"Leo, if this is as big as you're saying—"

"Alex." Leo's voice cut through the phone line like a blade. "They fired me because they thought I wasn't worth what they were paying me. I want them to learn exactly what my value was – by paying fifty times more for the same work."

Another pause. "Fuck. Yes. I'm absolutely in."

"Good. Give me your email. I'm sending you everything you need right now."

Leo spent the next twenty minutes crafting the most comprehensive briefing document of his career. He detailed Director Reed's psychology – her laziness disguised as delegation, her need to appear decisive without doing actual research, her weakness for buzzwords like "synergy" and "innovative partnerships." He mapped out Karen's insecurities, her desperate need to impress superiors, and her complete ignorance of creative processes.

He outlined Northwood's strategic priorities: increasing enrollment, improving digital presence, and appealing to younger demographics. He provided talking points about ROI, brand alignment, and measurable outcomes. He even included the exact phrases that would make them feel sophisticated and forward-thinking.

But the masterpiece was the pricing strategy. Leo knew Northwood's annual marketing budget down to the dollar. He knew they'd allocated significantly more for this project than they'd ever admitted, expecting to negotiate down from inflated proposals.

Alex would give them exactly what they expected – a premium price that made them feel they were buying premium quality. And because Leo understood their psychology, he knew they'd pay it gladly, convinced they were making a shrewd business decision.

"Check your email," Leo said, hitting send. "Everything you need is in there. Meeting strategies, psychological profiles, pricing recommendations, even sample dialogue."

"This is insane, Leo. How do you know all this?"

"Because I actually listened to them instead of just waiting for my turn to talk. Amazing what you learn when you pay attention."

Leo heard Alex typing in the background. "Holy shit, this is like having cheat codes for a video game."

"That's exactly what it is. Now, when they call – and they will call, probably within the next week – you follow that script exactly. Can you do that?"

"Can I do that? Leo, I'm going to give the performance of my fucking lifetime."

"Good. And Alex? When you sign that contract, remember who made it possible."

"Fifteen percent, as promised. Plus I owe you the best dinner of your life."

Leo glanced at his watch. Five minutes until facilities arrived. Time to close the laptop and walk away from Northwood University forever.

But not really forever. Through Alex, through Vanguard Productions, through the insanely overpriced contract he was about to orchestrate, Leo would be pulling strings from the shadows. Karen Sterling thought she'd gotten rid of him.

She was about to discover that Leo Vance was just getting started.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Alex. Go make us both rich."

Leo hung up, closed his laptop, and looked around the basement office one last time. Three weeks ago, he'd walked into this room full of hope and creative ambition. He was leaving it as something else entirely.

A predator who'd learned to play their game better than they did.

The elevator dinged in the distance – facilities, right on schedule.

Leo shouldered his bag and headed for the stairs, already imagining Karen's face when she realized her contact list was useless. Already savoring the moment when Alex would walk into that meeting room armed with insider knowledge and present them with a bill that would make their heads spin.

Justice, Leo had learned, was a dish best served expensively.

And he was about to bankrupt them with it.