Chapter 4

The following morning at 10:00 AM, Boardroom A.

Every department head sat along the mahogany table.

Mr. Sterling occupied the head seat, while the colossal wall screen displayed Julian Sinclair's live video feed.

Richard, flanked by his three interns, sat proudly in the front row, glowing with smug satisfaction.

I caught Mia's reflection across the table.

She wore full-glam makeup and a brand-new designer power suit, radiating unearned confidence.

The session began.

Richard was the first to take the stage.

His oily smile practically dripped onto the floor.

"Mr. Sterling, Mr. Sinclair, our team's proposal today was spearheaded by our brilliant rookie, Mia Vance."

"Young minds bring revolutionary perspectives. Let's welcome Mia to walk us through the vision."

Mia walked up to the podium and mirrored her screen with fluid confidence.

The massive display flared to life.

And there it was: the exact architectural framework, concepts, and phrasing from my poisoned draft.

She hadn't even bothered to rewrite the slide titles!

Logan shot me a smug, sideways glance from the front row, whispering under his breath:

"Stunned, aren't you, Chloe? That's the difference between true genius and a dinosaur."

I said nothing, leaning back into my leather chair with calm anticipation.

Mia’s melodic voice drifted across the room:

"Our proposal centers on ultra-bespoke execution with an optimized cost structure."

"Not only does it fully satisfy Mr. Sinclair's exacting standards, but it also locks in a projected forty percent net margin for our firm."

Mr. Sterling nodded repeatedly, his eyes gleaming with clear approval.

"Impressive. Such bold energy from fresh talent."

"This is an ambitious angle. Richard, your team clearly put in the work."

Richard beamed like a proud peacock.

"It's all thanks to your leadership, sir! These kids truly busted their backs."

Finishing her final slide, Mia offered a picture-perfect, ninety-degree bow.

The room erupted into enthusiastic applause.

Mr. Sterling turned to the video feed.

"Mr. Sinclair, what are your thoughts on this strategy?"

On screen, Julian Sinclair leaned in, his sharp gaze cutting straight through the data on the shared display.

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing into cold slits.

The energy in the room shifted instantly.

Julian’s voice dropped like liquid nitrogen through the speakers:

"Is this the garbage your firm considers a professional pitch?"

Mr. Sterling froze.

"Mr. Sinclair... is there an issue with the parameters?"

Julian Sinclair slammed his leather portfolio onto his desk.

BAM.

"Are you people insane?!"

"Did anyone in that room actually audit the core cost-modeling formulas on slide three?!"

"Under your catastrophic equation, the per-unit production cost is multiplied by three hundred percent!"

"Not only do you fail to deliver my pricing target, but this entire contract would instantly bleed a thirty-million-dollar net loss!"

Thirty million dollars.

The boardroom gasped in collective horror.

Mr. Sterling’s face turned violently pale, then flushed a dangerous purple.

He locked his eyes onto the projected slide, and the glaring, elementary mathematical flaw slapped him right in the face.

"Richard Evans! What the hell is this?!"

Richard turned white as a sheet, cold sweat instantly soaking his collar.

"M-Mr. Sterling! That's impossible!"

He whipped around and roared at Mia:

"Mia Vance! You built this financial model! Explain it right now!"

Mia was paralyzed.

Staring at the glaring errors on the screen, her mind went completely blank. Her lips trembled, unable to utter a single coherent syllable.

Because she had no idea how high-level margin matrices worked!

All she knew how to do was copy and paste!

"I... I don't know..."

Mia broke down instantly, tears streaming down her contoured cheeks.

Mr. Sterling violently snapped his fountain pen in half.

"You don't know?! You dragged a thirty-million-dollar corporate death sentence into my boardroom, and you tell me you don't know?!"

"Is this your brilliant proposal?!"

Logan and Harper shrank back into their chairs, shaking with terror.

The room plummeted into suffocating silence.

Julian Sinclair let out a dark, mocking chuckle over the feed:

"Your firm's 'expertise' has truly been an eye-opener."

"I see no reason to continue wasting my time with clowns."

Desperation washed over Mr. Sterling as he frantically apologized to the screen:

"Mr. Sinclair, please, stay with us! This was an unverified draft—we have an alternate team ready!"

He snapped his head toward me, his eyes pleading like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline.

"Chloe! Where is your team's proposal?! Present it right now!"

I stood up at a measured pace.

I smoothed the creases of my tailored blazer.

In my hand rested the encrypted flash drive containing my real master deck.

I glanced at the trembling Mia on stage, then at the ghostly Richard Evans.

"Mr. Sterling, my presentation has been ready for days."

"However, I cannot present it in this room."

Mr. Sterling frowned.

"Why not?!"

I walked to the center of the boardroom, my voice ringing out clear, steady, and lethal:

"Because the deck Mia Vance just pitched—including that catastrophic formula error—was stolen directly off my desk last night."

"With a corporate thief standing in this room, I refuse to expose my intellectual property."

Every single head whipped around to lock onto Mia.

Mia’s pupils dilated in sheer, unadulterated terror.