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The negative articles about Dare’s company get buried under positive press for Nova.
But that only makes Carmichael and his bots more determined.
The next day, Carmichael drops another hate campaign on Dare that blows my first attempts out of the water.
But I’m ready for him, having anticipated that he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“You think I’m scared of you?” I whisper to my phone, scoffing at the article that’s blazing on the front page of a business Internet forum.
Massaging my thumb so it’s ready for battle, I thump the ‘post’ button.
Instantly, a video with Sazuki joining hands with Adam Harrison and forming a new research company is posted. That was super-secret news, but it’s now an arrow in my arsenal. The perks of being the sister-in-law of Ryotaro Sazuki.
So it continues.
Every time Carmichael raises his ugly, virtual head, I stamp it down with my virtual Versace pumps. Undoubtedly, his minions are scrambling to gain back the ground they lost, but I don’t give them a minute to breathe and keep them pinned.
The currency of social media is outrage.
Not just any outrage.Immediateoutrage.
I don’t have the antidote for the internet, and I doubt one’s been invented yet, but I do know how to slow down damage before things turn critical. The more Carmichael loses momentum, the less people care and the less power he has. I want him like a hamster on a wheel, losing steam as he turns in circles.
It doesn’t take long.
Social media giveth and social media taketh away.
On the seventh day, there are no new articles, tweets or posts about Dare and the old posts have zero traction. Folks who’d boiled with rage had moved on to another dog with another bone.
On the eighth day, I get my reward.
It’s one text.
One acknowledgement from Mosely.
I’ll make sure he’s at the fashion show. After that, he’s flying straight to Uruguay.
I clutch the cell phone firmly.
I get one shot.
And I’m going to make it count.
CHAPTER21
love bites and dents
DARE
“You need to eat something.”
I turn the page of the research document. “I’ll eat when I’m dead.”
“The phrase is ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’, sir.” He clears his throat. “Or did you mean you won’t eatuntilyou’re dead?”
I stop reviewing the file long enough to pin Mosely with a dry look.
He avoids eye contact.