Seven boss Tim Worner, Amber Harrison and the affair that stopped a nation

"The only reason we are racing this horse is for the sheilas," quipped the knockabout 30-year-old owner of racehorse Chicks Dig Me.

It was 1991 and Tim "Woopsie" Worner, then a producer of the television series, Beyond 2000, and his mates were having a lark by wearing black tie to watch their colt Chicks Dig Me run.

Since then the racing colours of the Perth-born Worner's Indian Pacific Bloodstock syndicate – black, white stripe, black bow tie and button – have had variable success with the likes of Centrefold Spread, Soapy Star, Legs Akimbo, Hot Business, Chiq Flick and She Likes to Party.

But it is allegations of Woopsie's racy ways within the Seven West Media stable that have seen the well-regarded media boss come under excruciating scrutiny this week.

Seven West Media chief executive Tim Worner "began texting and emailing for sex".Credit: Daniel Munoz

While his consensual affair with Amber Harrison attracted plenty of salacious headlines, the real story was about corporate governance or the lack thereof.

Allegations of drug-taking on company time, former partners being compensated with promotions, unauthorised credit card expenditure and the heavy-handed manner in which Seven tried to crush Harrison in order to protect Worner have all been extremely damaging to Seven's brand.

Seven's headache is being compounded by a rogue blogger who has identified two Seven TV personalities alleged to have had affairs with Worner. These claims have been denied by Worner and the two women, now referred to in court as Jane Doe 1 and 2, but the blogger remains unrepentant and without his co-operation the names will stay on the internet.

Meanwhile, sources close to the Seven board told Fairfax Media that a number of them wanted Worner sacked, especially after there was no firm denial about allegations of cocaine use.

Amber Harrison, left, with former boss Nick Chan and his wife Peggy.

However, billionaire chairman Kerry Stokes, who reputedly rules the board with what one previous executive described as an "iron fist", has remained supportive of Worner.

The board impasse was resolved by the decision to hold a second "independent" inquiry.

Tim Worner and Bruce McWilliam, who told Harrison that she was losing her job.Credit: Dominic K Lorrimer

Peter Swan, a UNSW professor specialising in corporate governance, expressed scepticism about the ability of the yet-to-be-named investigator "to go to the truth of the matter".

Without the ability to compel witnesses, regular investigators "can't establish drug taking and multiple partners, a huge distraction from the tasks of managing a company".

Billionaire chairman Kerry Stokes is said to rule with an "iron fist".Credit: David Mariuz

Professor Swan said that the results of the inquiry would need to be made public.

"An independent inquiry which is kept secret is not very credible and it's not going to allay the fears of shareholders that there's possibly gross mismanagement going on at Channel 7."

Having spent the past 18 months in a war of legal attrition with Seven, last Sunday afternoon Harrison, the mistress scorned, pressed the nuclear button. Broke, unemployed and unable to resolve her ongoing legal dispute with Seven, Harrison had nothing left to lose.

She sent out an explosive media release to at least 300 people including journalists across the nation. She also emailed the bombshell to the board members of both Seven and Nine.

So how did a consensual affair between Worner, the 51-year-old then head of the TV network, and Harrison, the 35-year-old executive assistant to Pacific Magazines boss, Nick Chan, go so horribly wrong?

According to Harrison's media release, "The affair began the month after the [November 2012] board meeting at Pacific Magazines. We started flirting and soon after Tim began texting and emailing me for sex," Ms Harrison said.

The affair imploded a year later when Harrison's boss was moved from the magazine office in Eveleigh to Seven's Pyrmont headquarters.

Worner not only ignored her in the office but was outright frosty. He would then send her messages wanting to have sex.

The reality of her situation began to depress her and to make her feel embarrassed and ashamed.

On February 8, 2014, she texted Worner saying: "I'm something that pops into your head to do when you are bored. Stop texting me. I'll stop texting you. This is done."

Worner replied: "I want to f--- you. Badly."

This is when her trouble began. In early 2014, three weeks after she began making these demands, an investigation was launched into the use of her corporate credit card.

In the five years she had been at the organisation no one had queried her expenses. Given that Harrison was later accused of racking up $262,000 in unauthorised expenses, questions must be raised as to Seven's corporate governance in which expenses appears to have been signed off without question or appropriate scrutiny.

Seven has since claimed that it was a random audit of her credit card. But the timing suggests otherwise.

At the end of July 2014, Harrison spoke to Seven's human resources department about the affair and the need to be moved somewhere else in the company.

Two days later Bruce McWilliam, the network's commercial director, prepared a deed of release which Harrison signed. The deed stipulated she must not make "any statement publicly or otherwise about or related to the relationship ..."

Harrison also undertook to destroy all information about her relationship with Worner. Within a fortnight she had to repay $14,000 of outstanding personal expenses charged to her work credit card. In return, she would receive $100,000, which was recorded as a bonus, plus two months of paid personal leave and on her return she would be employed elsewhere in the Seven group.

However, instead of a new job upon her return, McWilliam told her she was being made redundant.

"Bruce is like an attack dog," said one former Seven executive, adding that his job as Seven's chief lawyer was to "bury people".

And bury her he did. McWilliam produced a report by Deloitte Touche Tohmatsu which had identified $262,000 of unauthorised expenditure on her corporate card.

The Deloitte report, which is estimated to have cost as much as Harrison's credit card bills, was instigated on August 1, 2014, the same day McWilliam had signed the initial release deed promising her a new role in the company.

Harrison hired workplace lawyers Harmers and then the real battle began.

In March 2015 reporters got wind that Harmers had been hired to take on a bigwig at Seven. Word got back to Seven, who launched a pre-emptive strike by leaking an item to The Australian Financial Review's Rear Window column.

"An internal investigation into the employee found that they had accrued more than $200,000 in unauthorised company expenditure over a period of more than five years, including for personal household items," the item said.

"The employee argued the transactions were within company guidelines, and Seven gave them the benefit of the doubt that they had not spent the company's money with fraudulent intent.

"Seven settled with the employee confidentially," the report noted, adding: "The industry has been abuzz with wild rumours about what had really taken place on CEO Tim Worner's executive floor."

However, her identity was inadvertently revealed in the final paragraph which read: "We attempted unsuccessfully to contact Harrison. Seven refused to comment."

The ongoing failure of the parties to reach a further settlement led to Harrison's bombshell, the fallout of which has been immense for all concerned.

Now all that awaits is the Channel Nine mini-series.