I already know because I skimmed her draft last night. She wants to onboard three new clinic partnerships at the same time while maintaining current R&D commitments. It’s mathematically impossible. Dr. Yael Okonkwo’s team is already stretched thin. Adding three more clinics would be like trying to graft new tissue onto a rejection site. The body just can’t handle it.
But I’m curious to see if anyone else notices.
Specifically, if Bree notices.
The thought pisses me off.
Since when do I care whether my secretary has strategic opinions about operational proposals?
Since when do I hope she’ll speak up in meetings?
I shove the thought aside and head for the conference room.
The executive team is already assembled when Iwalk in. Elspeth at the head of the presentation screen. Dashiell reviewing his tablet. Yael staring at the ceiling. Paloma looking exhausted and wary. She hasn’t quite recovered from my evisceration last week. Fair enough.
I was an asshole.
And Bree. Corner seat. Laptop open. Ready to take notes like the good little secretary I’ve demanded she be.
She doesn’t look up when I enter.
Why does that gut me?
“Let’s get started,” I say, dropping into my chair. “Elspeth, you’re up.”
My COO launches into her presentation. Slides appear. Efficiency metrics. Partnership projections. Revenue forecasts that look impressive if you don’t think too hard about the underlying assumptions.
I watch Bree instead of the screen.
She’s taking notes. Fingers moving steadily. Face neutral. But I’ve learned her tells over these past weeks. The way her fingers pause at problematic sections. The slight furrow between her brows when something doesn’t add up.
There. Right there. Her typing slows as Elspeth explains the clinic onboarding timeline.
She sees it. The flaw that Elspeth’s glossing over. The impossible demand on R&D resources that would break Yael’s team within three months.
Say something, Bree!
I don’t know why I want her to. Maybe because I’m tired of being the only one who calls out the bullshit. Maybe because I want to see if she’s as sharp in public as she is on her sticky notes.
Maybe because I want her to prove she’s more than what I’ve made her.
Elspeth finishes her presentation. “Questions?”
I wait.
Bree’s fingers have stopped moving entirely. She’s looking at her screen, but I can tell she’s thinking. Processing. Probably composing the exact objection I would raise if I weren’t testing her.
“This looks solid,” Dashiell says. Because of course he does.
Yael shifts in her seat. The CTO knows her team can’t handle this. But she’s not the type to push back publicly. Too much of a lab rat. Hates boardroom politics.
Paloma says nothing. Still gun-shy from last week.
And Bree. My secretary who pretends she’s nothing more.
She says nothing.
Disappointment comes over me. Which is insane. I told her not to overstep. I’ve spent weeks treating her like garbage. What exactly did I expect?
