Page 80 of Worth the Fall

Linda adjusts her blazer and shoulders her bag with a flourish. "That’s my girl. Now go out there and make them realize what a mistake it would be not to put you on the partner track."

She heads for the door, pausing only to shoot Miguel one last look. "Take care of her," she says, her voice softer now, almost conspiratorial.

Miguel nods, his expression losing its playful edge. "I will."

When the door clicks shut behind her, I let out a long breath, slumping back onto the couch. "That woman is a force of nature."

Miguel crosses the room, plucking the donut box from the coffee table and holding it out to me. "She’s not wrong, though. You could use another one of these."

I take a jelly-filled donut, my nerves settling as his hand brushes mine. "You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Not a chance," he says, his grin softening. "But for the record, I like the red lipstick too. Power suits you."

The boardroom feels more like a battleground than a conference room. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a sweeping view of the city skyline, but it’s wasted on me. My focus is entirely on the long, gleaming oak table and the formidable figures filing in one by one to take their seats. Senior partners of Harrison & Brooks. The people who could decide my future with a single raised eyebrow.

I stand at the front of the room, gripping my laser pointer like it’s a weapon. My tailored navy suit feels both too tight and too loose all at once, and I will myself to stay calm.Confidence, I remind myself.Channel every ounce of confidence Miguel kissed into me this morning. You are prepared. You belong here.

The partners settle into their seats, their faces unreadable save for the occasional sharp glance. I offer a polite smile, adjusting the stack of papers on the podium in front of me. My slides are ready, my cue cards are perfectly ordered, and my arguments have been practiced to death. This is my moment.

I click to the first slide, take a breath, and begin.

"Good morning," I say, my voice steady despite the storm brewing in my chest. "Today, I’ll be presenting our strategy to secure the Meyer acquisition and ensure long-term profitability for the firm."

So far, so good. My voice doesn’t shake, and the first few slides flow seamlessly. I see some heads nodding around the table, which I take as a positive sign. But as I move to click to the third slide, a glimmer on my sleeve catches my eye.

At first, I think it’s a trick of the light. But no, there it is—a speck of glitter, faint but unmistakable. My heart sinks. Of course. Felicity’s glitter bomb of a mermaid art project musthave left more of a mark on me than I realized. I brush at it discreetly, hoping no one notices.

The speck refuses to budge. Worse, as I glance down, I notice another glint near my wrist. Then another on the lapel of my blazer. Panic flutters in my chest, but I force myself to keep talking, moving to the next slide. Maybe it’s not noticeable. Maybe they’ll just think the projector light is catching something.

"Here we see a comparative analysis of Meyer’s quarterly earnings," I say, clicking to a detailed bar graph. But the moment I gesture toward the screen, something catches my eye—a sticker. A tiny princess crown sticker, stuck to the underside of my sleeve.

My heart lurches. Felicity must have planted it somewhere last night when she hugged me goodbye before bed and I transferred it to my suit. I try to surreptitiously brush it off, but it’s stuck fast. Of course, it’s the one sticker with industrial-strength adhesive.

"Let’s move on to the key growth projections," I say, my voice an octave higher than it should be. I take a small step to the side to redirect their attention to the slide—and that’s when it happens. My heel catches on the edge of the carpet.

Time slows as I stumble forward, arms flailing. The papers on the podium scatter, and I lurch toward the table to catch myself. My palms hit the polished wood with a resoundingthud, and the room goes silent.

Heat floods my face as I straighten, smoothing my blazer like nothing happened. My heart is hammering, but I force a smile and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "Well, at least I’ve got your attention now."

For a beat, the room remains silent. Then laughter breaks out, rippling through the senior partners like a wave. Even thenotoriously stoic Mr. Gilmore cracks a smile. Relief washes over me, and I seize the opportunity to turn the moment in my favor.

"Let’s call that my warm-up act," I say with a grin, earning another round of chuckles. "Now, where were we?"

I regain my footing—literally and figuratively—and dive back into the presentation. The adrenaline coursing through me sharpens my focus, and I lean into the humor, weaving it naturally into my points. I use the stumble as a metaphor for adaptability in business strategy, turning what could have been a disaster into an asset.

By the time I reach my closing argument, the room is alive with nods and engaged expressions. I can feel the shift in the energy—this is going well. I click to the final slide, my voice strong and steady.

"In conclusion, our proposed strategy not only secures the Meyer acquisition but positions Harrison & Brooks as a leader in long-term profitability. Thank you for your time, and I look forward to discussing how we can move forward."

The room erupts into applause. Real applause. Not the polite kind they offer to every junior associate who manages to stumble through a presentation without passing out. Genuine, approving applause.

"Impressive work, Ms. Mason," Mr. Gilmore says, his tone carrying more weight than the words themselves. "We’ll be in touch soon."

I nod, keeping my expression professional even as my heart soars. As the partners file out, a few offer words of encouragement, and I bask in the glow of what feels like a hard-fought victory.

It’s only when I step into the hallway and glance down at my blazer that I notice it: a tiny trail of glitter on my lapel. I groan, brushing at it futilely. But instead of feeling mortified, I laugh. Felicity’s glitter and stickers might have nearly derailed my day,but they also remind me of how far I’ve come—and who I’ve become.

With my head held high, I stride toward my office. Today, I nailed it. Glitter and all.

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