Page 26 of Kisses and Paperclips

But they noticed.

The too-long pauses in meetings. The presentation of repackaged ideas as breakthroughs.

The names that slipped her mind. The details she once would’ve nailed, now fumbled.

What she termed strategic recalibrations were actually mood swings.

I had a front-row seat to the unraveling.

I’d been revising proposals she’d forgotten she approved.

Covering for decisions she couldn’t explain.

Softening her edges before they drew blood.

No one said a word. But their eyes lingered on me like I was the answer to a question they hadn’t asked yet.

Maybe the crown was already half in my hands.

I was the COO. The silent solution.

The woman in the corner office, who made excellence seem easy, until it wasn’t.

So if Ms. Brooks was stepping down?

No one would be shocked.

The real surprise would be if they passed me over.

But here’s the thing about being the obvious choice,

You’re only obvious to those who want to see you.

And right now?

Her smile was too bright. Too perfect.

The kind women wear right before they rewrite your future with a single sentence.

I was outwardly calm, but a storm was brewing inside.

Wondering if any of it mattered.

The saves. The strategies. The late nights and last-minute miracles.

Or maybe I was just another smart woman, destined to be a small part of someone else’s tale.

But one look at her face, that polished, predatory calm, and I knew.

This didn’t feel like a celebration.

It felt like a setup.

And the way she was smiling?

Too wide, with all her teeth.

Beaming like a proud auntie at family dinner, right before she tells your business in front of the whole table.

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