Page 69 of My Totally Unfair Deal

I’ve never been treated like this at any of the industry events I’ve attended in the past.

From the moment I stepped into the marble atrium, I was being summoned to places I didn’t even know I had access to—exclusive panels, off-the-record brunches, private drinks with CEOs who actually lean in when I speak.

And somehow, I’m ready for all of it.

Every etiquette rule, every late-night flashcard Harrison drilled into me—it’s finally paying off. I know which fork to use, when to speak, and how to drop a stat so clean it silences a table.

By noon, I’ve handled three back-to-back meet-and-greets and made an impression at two private luncheons that weren’t even on the schedule.

Then comesthismeeting.

A spotlight session hosted by one of the biggest conglomerates in agriculture—a company infamous for buying up farmland and squeezing every cent from other people’s labor.

The man leading the session is polished and poised, but I can smell the bullshit before he even finishes his first sentence.

He barrels through buzzwords like “soil optimization” and “regenerative vertical integration” as if he invented them. Half of it sounds like it was cribbed from the back of a granola bar.

And when he sayspine mulchinstead ofpine straw, that’s it.

“Excuse me,” I say, steady and clear. “That’s not right. You’re giving them the wrong information.”

He blinks, caught off guard. “And you’re interrupting my presentation. I might be off by a man-ounce or two, gentlemen, but I assure you the printed materials are accurate. Now, Miss, if you’ll please?—”

“They’re incorrect too,” I say, not backing down. “With all due respect.”

A current runs through the room. Men glance at each other. A few sit up straighter.

His smile tightens into something less friendly. “Is there someone who can remove this woman until I’m finished? I know you’re eager to tell us all about your little farm, but this is an eight-figure discussion.”

“And that’s an eight-figure error,” I reply evenly. “There’s a pending patent that corrects the core flaw in your design. Investing in yours is like lighting money on fire.”

Low murmurs rise. Someone coughs. A chair squeaks.

His cheeks flush. He’s flipping through his notes now, too fast. Too rough. No one’s helping him.

I sit back, calm. My heart’s racing, but I don’t show it.

He tries to keep going. “As I was saying, our product has been tested on industrial farmlands that?—”

“Do you have the serial number for that patent?” a CEO cuts in, ignoring him.

“Hold up, Reggie,” another says. “She said it’s off by five figures?”

The presenter stammers. Pages shuffle. He tries to answer, but the room’s shifted.

No one’s looking at him anymore.

They’re all looking at me.

And this time, no one’s asking me to leave.

THIRTY-SIX

HARRISON

Conference, Day Five

The bar is dimly lit, just far enough from the conference center to be quiet but close enough that I’m still hoping she’ll text.

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