PROLOGUE
RORIE
The room drips with power.And I’m doing my best not to drown in it.
Six executives. Zero tells.
Silence envelops the room, unbearable in its intensity as light slants through the tall windows of Stanfield Investments, streaking the glass with the colors of an almost-sunset.
Outside, the first rainstorm of the spring season drizzles in a steady curtain, smearing the skyline into a ghost of itself. The world beyond looks distant. Muted. Like it knows better than to intrude.
My stomach knots tighter as I scan their expressions.
Nothing but shadows and silence. Boardroom gargoyles, carved in stone and ego, backlit by the Manhattan skyline.
If this pitch is a trial, I’m on the stand and losing the jury.
Still, I smile.
Straighten my spine.
Lift my chin.
I didn’t come here to coast.
I came to conquer.
I clear my throat.
One breath. One shot.
Here we go.
“And with this engaging campaign,” I say, my voice faltering slightly.
Their eyes dart between me and the tablets before them with a disconcerting detachment making the room even more confining.
“...you’ll create a unique experience and go beyond traditional marketing. It’s... it’s about engaging all the senses. Making your audience feel as though they’re already living the dream.”
Oh, God, I said engaging twice.
Beneath the blazer and bullet points, I’m bleeding out. My chest tightens. It’s a familiar pressure. Failure knocking on the back of my mind, reminding me it’s not done with me yet.
The clock on the wall rotates steadily, each tick a thunderous reminder of the seconds slipping away, counting down to the moment I either salvage some dignity with this pitch or watch it disintegrate along with the fading daylight.
Mr. Gaines, senior partner and key decision maker, leans forward, his wide shoulders dominating the space as he rests his elbows on the table. Silver slicked back hair gleams beneath the overhead lights.
“Ms. Adams.” His voice is courteous but carries an undercurrent pointed enough to puncture tempered steel. “I’m struggling to understand how this proposal differentiates from the dozens of others we’ve received. Virtual reality? Cliché. Sensory integration? It’s… tired.”
“Tired,” I repeat. The word scrapes down my throat, jagged and cruel, ripping through the walls on the way out. I swallow hard, pushing past the ache. “With all due respect, Mr. Gaines, this approach isn’t just about VR. It’s about creating an emotional connection?—”
“It’s a nice idea,” a woman with a perfectly styled updo and an equally perfect frown interrupts, her tone clipped.
Nice?
“But...” she draws the word out, “you’re overcomplicating a strategy that should be simple. We want bold, yes, but we also want streamlined. Efficient.”
Heat crawls up my neck. The pitch I honed to perfection is coming undone in real time. “I—I understand. Perhaps if I could clarify?—”
