Here's An Excerpt from Chapter One, where you can guess the Cinderella possibility exists:
The ratings were down. Mecca was dying. It could not survive another season without a hit. Neither could he. He’d sunk time, money and effort into this project. The boys upstairs had given it a go, only if he’d produce and direct it. This was his chance to prove he could make it without the connections of his actress-mother Barbara Branton. A foul-up would turn him into a has-been at the age of thirty.
“Blake, should I go with them?” Jillian asked again.
Her voice was alert and in crisis mode.
“You’re not a doctor. I need you here. We have a show to run.”
Almost as soon as he’d hung up, he found Jillian standing before him. Through all the commotion, her hair was still pushed back from her face and her glasses perched firmly on her nose. He had to hand it to her for keeping her cool.
“I’ve called food management and alerted them of the situation. They’ve closed the cafeteria,” she said.
“Good. We don’t need anyone else sick. The coordinators were hit, too. What about the survivors?”
“They’re already in Makeup.”