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“Yes,” he says.

“If we bring those efforts into the heart of the company, weave it into its very essence, what can we accomplish? And when given the choice between traveling with a company that cares about our world, and one that’s merely out for profit, which will consumers choose? Experience has proven that the conscientious consumer chooses the conscientious company. I believe we can be that kind of company in the adventure cruise industry.”

Marlen rocks in his office chair, lips pursed, eyes never leaving my face. “Tell me, Miss Evans. Can you read minds?”

I blink, unsure how to respond. Marlen saves me the trouble.

“Because I have been thinking along these same lines for quite some time. You’re absolutely right. The world is facing challenges like never before, and a better future is only possible if we take action. It’s like you pulled a thread right out of my brain and wove something tangible with it.”

Fireworks explode in my chest as vindication washes through me.

Marlen flashes me the ghost of a grin. “Did you—”

His desk phone rings and he answers. “Yes. Yes, I know. Push the meeting to two. Something came up.” Hanging up the phone, he leans forward and rests his forearms on his desk. “Did you come up with this idea all on your own?”

The answer is on the tip of my tongue when I stop. I won’t be like James. Not today, not ever.

I wet my lips. “The initial idea was mine, but I had help pulling it together. May I call in my team? They’re right outside.”

Marlen nods once, expression inscrutable.

Smoothing my jacket, I stride to the door and poke my head out. Christina is chewing her thumbnail, Tory is scrolling through her phone, Walsh is perched next to her, twisting a bracelet around her wrist, and Graeme is standing at the window behind Rose’s desk. “Tory, Christina, Graeme. I need you.” Three pairs of eyes jerk to me.

“What, in there?” blurts Christina.

“Yeah. Rose, can you call Barbara for me and ask her to come here?”

Rose wobbles her chin and picks up her phone.

Walsh flashes me a thumbs-up as the rest of us file into Marlen’s office.

“These are the staff members I collaborated with on the idea. Christina researched regional nonprofits with ties to the areas we sail; Tory calculated costs, and her spouse, an attorney for Brickle, Boone & Davis, informally advised on the legal framework that we’d need to launch a charitable conservation initiative.”

The door opens and closes, and Barbara walks in, buckles jangling on her knee-high boots. “Barbara assisted with logistics and presentation prep, and Graeme created some mock-ups for a digital marketing rebranding campaign.” Pulling my phone from the inside of my jacket, I tap in several commands. “They’re in your in-box now.”

Clicking open the email, Marlen scans his screen. His eyebrows rise and the corner of his lips wavers. “This is good stuff. But why didn’t you take this idea to James? He’s your direct supervisor.”

I clear my throat. “I did. For the Galápagos, anyway. It was the proposal I crafted for the director of digital marketing position before he disqualified me.”

Marlen knits his arched eyebrows together. “I don’t understand. When I asked him what was happening with that this morning, he said your proposal was so subpar that we shouldn’t even consider it. But there’s nothing subpar about this idea. It’s bold, well researched, and brilliant.”

Graeme’s fist tightens at his side. “That’s because James intends to steal Henley’s idea.” His eyes flick to me and he offers a small, encouraging nod. I step forward.

“Graeme’s right. Less than an hour ago I learned that James is going to present this idea at today’s board meeting, but he’s going to say he came up with it.”

Marlen frowns. “That’s quite a claim.”

“I have proof.” Barbara’s voice cracks but she lifts her chin. “Proof that he never intended on giving Henley the credit she deserves, and, in fact, that he’s been taking her ideas and passing them off as his own for years. The direct call campaign for British Columbia, the monthly wildlife spotlight on our blog, and the Snapchat marketing plan from the last board meeting—all originally Henley’s ideas.”

Marlen’s deep brown eyes nearly pop out of his head.

“And Henley’s not the only one. Do you remember Samantha Charles, the marketing manager for North and Central America before Henley? The one who left after four years to take a position with Wild Wonders, our biggest competitor?”

“I do,” says Marlen.

“I haven’t had time to investigate thoroughly, but I began digging through some old emails, and there’s evidence James co-opted her ideas as well. Both smart, hardworking young women with big ideas and even bigger dreams. I just wish I would have realized it sooner. But I never had reason to suspect…” Her voice cracks.

“It’s not your fault,” I murmur.

She flashes me a small, heartfelt smile before handing Marlen a black thumb drive. “It’s all here.”

Marlen takes the thumb drive with a curt nod, plugs it into his computer, and begins clicking.

I stand there, not looking at the others, barely daring to breathe. The clock on the wall ticks. Tory’s leather loafers squeak as she shifts her weight. Graeme goes very still beside me. A bead of sweat forms between my shoulder blades. I swallow.