room. The sharp, rhythmic click of her heels on the marbl

inder. He looked up at the sound. His eyes met hers, and his gaze snagged

le empty seat at the opposite end of the table and sat down. She arranged her notepad

ly with his knuckles, his expression once ag

Leland, a senior finance major, presented quarterly returns an

architecture d

rojector. Her proposal, "Urban Oasis," a sustaina

of her suit. She spoke clearly and passionately, her voice steady,

nsive fountain pen between his fingers. His eyes never left her. The intensity of his stare was a physi

her presentat

professor on the board, nodded in approv

pped his pen. It hit the polished table with

," he said, his voice a flat, clinica

t. The shift in his tone

continued, citing a highly obscure municipal code that hadn't even been fully ratified yet. His eyes bored into her, cold and calculating.

sion. "Ms. Berry, this board allocates capital based on rigorous market realities

out her project, but he was also talking about her. About

ld smile. "Mr. Whitaker," she shot back, her voice just as sharp, "perhaps your own

te af

The air around him seem

, their expressions ranging from confused to terrified. Leland cl

He didn't look at anyone else. "We'll vote now. All in

ried immense weight. A few of the finance sycophan

o months of her

mal urge to throw her glass of ice water in his arrogant face. "

ved her papers messily into her briefcase. The r

that looked like triumph in his eyes. He was

ryone else scrambled to get ou

and strode toward the d

ta

the table, stopped her in her tracks. She

r, Mr. Chairman," she s

d out of the room and walked away, the