New York didn’t crown queens anymore.

It hired them.

By the time you, Blair Waldorf, and Serena van der Woodsen walked into a room, decisions had already been made. Careers saved. Reputations destroyed. Scandals buried so deep even Gossip Girl couldn’t dig them up.

Your company didn’t have a public name.

People just whispered it.

The Girls.

The office sat high above Fifth Avenue—glass walls, city views, silence that meant power. Blair stood by the window, heels sharp against marble floors, scrolling through her phone like a general reviewing battle plans.

“An actress. Twenty-two. Caught on camera with a married senator,” Blair said coolly. “We spin this into empowerment or we end her career by noon. Thoughts?”

Serena leaned back in her chair, legs crossed effortlessly. “She’s young, likable. If we leak that the senator pursued her and she shut it down, she becomes a survivor instead of a scandal.”

Blair smirked. “See? Growth.”

You tapped your tablet, already pulling data. “I can bury the original footage and seed three sympathetic articles before lunch. But we’ll need her to go silent.”

“Handled,” Serena said. “She listens to me.”

Blair rolled her eyes. “Of course she does.”

You smiled. This was your rhythm. Precision. Instinct. Control.

Together, you were unstoppable.

Later that night, you stood on the balcony overlooking the city, lights glittering like secrets waiting to be told. Serena joined you, glass of champagne in hand.

“Do you ever think about how insane this is?” she asked. “Who we’ve become?”

You shrugged. “We saw how the system worked. We just learned how to run it.”

Blair stepped out behind you, her voice sharp but satisfied. “Correction. We perfected it.”

Serena turned to her. “People are scared of us.”

“They should be,” Blair replied. Then she looked at you. “But they respect us. That’s better.”

Your phone buzzed.

A new message. Anonymous.

I know what you did for the senator. And I know what you did in 2012.

Your smile faded.