We rose quickly, the numbers on the digital display changing rapidly.

Thirty.

Thirty-five.

Forty.

The elevator stopped with a soft chime.

The doors opened onto the forty-first floor.

The hallway was filled with people.

There were lawyers, board members, and assistants carrying stacks of paper.

The air smelled of stale coffee and expensive cologne.

As soon as Nathan and I stepped out, the crowd fell completely silent.

They looked at us.

They looked at me.

They looked at the woman they had spent months trying to ignore.

A tall, silver-haired woman stepped forward from the crowd.

I recognized her as Eleanor Vance, Harrison’s sister and a major shareholder.

She looked at me, her eyes assessing my cheap coat and my worn shoes.

Then she looked down at the diaper bag still slung over my shoulder.

“Is this the mother?” Eleanor asked.

“This is Emily,” Nathan said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“And she is the one who will decide the future of this company.”

Eleanor nodded slowly.

She extended her hand to me.

“We have a lot to discuss, Emily,” she said.