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After ten minutes of impressive-sounding bluster, a general murmur sounds from the rest of the executive board.

Marlen’s voice rings loud and clear. “That is a very interesting idea. How did you come up with it?”

A chair groans. I can just imagine James leaning back, hands behind his head. “As you know, I recently sent two of our marketing staff down to the Galápagos for familiarization trips, and their experience inspired me. I thought: Why not solicit donations for conservation efforts and use that as a cornerstone of our marketing in the region?”

I grind my molars like an industrial sander. Graeme’s nostrils flare and his face flushes.

“So, this is your idea?”

James coughs. “That’s what I said.”

“You’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have irrefutable evidence that what you just presented is, in fact, work that belongs to Henley Evans.”

“What evidence?”

“Time-stamped emails and metadata.”

Chairs inside the conference creak and James lets out a disapproving snort. “What does it matter? She’s my staff, my subordinate. Her idea, our idea. It’s a win for the marketing team.”

“It’s a win for you,” Marlen booms.

The conference room falls silent. Even Sadie in the lobby stops chewing her gum at the shouting.

“It’s recently come to my attention that you’ve been taking credit for work that doesn’t belong to you. Even this presentation—you didn’t create it, did you? Not a single slide.”

“Well… I… didn’t exactly…”

“Why is your name on it then?”

James laughs, a nervous, braying sound. “Come now, Marlen. There are those of us at the top who have to make the tough decisions, and then there are the people at the bottom, the drones who keep the hive going. As long as we’re making the company more marketable and turning a profit, that’s all that really matters. This idea is coming from the department I happen to manage, so all ideas that come through it belong to me—to us. All of us.”

I imagine the temperature dropping ten degrees in the conference room as silence swells. When Marlen finally speaks, his voice is low and deadly.

“I don’t know what kind of company you think you work for, but we’re not only about making a profit here. I will not tolerate anyone, whether it’s an executive or a mail clerk, taking credit for work that isn’t their own—lying to get ahead. That’s not the kind of company I run, and those aren’t the kind of people I want leading my team. You’re fired.”

“I’m what?”

“Fired.”

“But… I have obligations. A mortgage, my son’s college to pay for, alimony…”

“You’ll have a chance to formally resign, if you go quietly—today. But if I have to call security, you get nothing.”

For a heartbeat, I think James is going to argue. The silence feels charged with malice, and I can practically see the foam that must be dripping from his pale lips. Finally, a chair squeals as it rolls across marble. Cloth snaps, like James is straightening his suit coat.

“Gentlemen,” he says, voice dripping with venom.

The conference room door whooshes open.

James emerges in the lobby, hands balled into fists. When he catches sight of me, his eyes narrow. I scramble to my feet. He stops inches short of me and jams his stubby index finger in my face.

“You did this to me. You little—”

“Back off,” hisses Graeme, who’s suddenly between us. He towers over the much shorter, paunchy man, and James stumbles back a step. Walsh and Christina scurry to my side, flanking me.

James’s nostrils flare as he glares at me. “I helped build this company, goddamn it. Who the hell are you? You’re nobody. Just a mousy little girl who thinks she’s ready to play in the big leagues, when really you’re barely out of the kiddie pool.”

In the past, his words would have stung like wasps. Now?

Lifting my chin, I stare down my nose at the man who would have suffocated my career until it withered.

“Who am I? I’m Henley Evans. And don’t you forget it.”

For a heart-stopping moment, I think James is going to slap me. The muscles in his neck spasm and Graeme tenses, ready to intervene.

But instead, with a sneer, James turns on his heel and marches out of the lobby. It looks like he’ll be getting severance after all. As soon as the elevator doors close with a ding, a knot of anxiety loosens in my chest and floats away. I feel lighter than I have in three years. I’m almost giddy.

Marlen pokes his head out of the conference room. “Miss Evans, if you will?”

Tucking my laptop against my chest, I square my shoulders and step through the door into a future full of possibility.





31




I’ve invited Miss Evans here this afternoon to share the real conservation proposal. What you heard from James only covered the Galápagos, and was a poor imitation of the real thing. Henley’s idea would be implemented company-wide and involve a top-to-bottom rebranding effort. It aligns with the direction I’ve been thinking we should take for quite a while. Whenever you’re ready, Henley.” Settling into the chair at the head of the table, Marlen motions for me to join the executives.