He unzips the first bag and reveals an all-black suit, sharp and tailored, with a light pink dress shirt tucked neatly inside. It’s so pale, it’s almost white.
Cal just stares. “Holy shit. That’s nice.”
Wilby takes a bow and then opens the second bag. My breath catches in my throat.
It’s a power suit in the same shade as Cal’s dress shirt. Strong lines, perfect cut. And it’s unmistakably feminine, soft, but intentional. Wilby knows I’ve loved pink and dialed that back at the office the past few years. I always wanted people to take me seriously. And now? I can wear whatever the fuck I want. Hell, yeah.
I smile because this was my dream. Walking into a room full of people who underestimated me, wearing pink like a crown. Like a statement and a reminder that softness andstrength are not opposites.
This suit feels like a giant, elegant fuck you to the old meanies who whispered and smirked. The ones who rooted against me and called me sweetie when I started out. The ones who assumed I wouldn’t make it to this day. I read the reports and the forwarded emails. I know what was said. I’ve filed those thoughts away. I never forgot.
I made it. I’m here, and today is the first day of me running a family business that I earned.
I run my fingers over the fabric and look up at Wilby. “It’s perfect.”
He nods, excited. “I knew you’d love it!”
“Damn it, you’re getting a raise.” I shake my head, thinking about how I don’t deserve Wilby.
He laughs. “You always say that. Just know I get myself presents, too, sometimes. Like this suit.”
Cal says, “I look like I’m about to overthrow a corporation in this suit or testify in court.”
Wilby claps him on the shoulder. “Both could happen. The day is young. All right. Your ride’s here in twenty.”
I laugh and take the tailored suit, which feels like karma. Today isn’t just another day. It’s my day, and I’m ready to collect.
Wilby, Cal, and I are on our way to the office. A tray of coffees is waiting in the car, and I’m so thankful, I could practically cry. I need all the coffee today.
We pull up in front of the building. I feel like I should have Cal take my picture like it’s my first day of school. I don’t think I’ve ever paid attention to what our building looks like until today. I feel like I’m seeing it through Cal’s eyes. It’s massive, glass and steel stretching straight into the sky.
Cal leans toward me, his voice low and teasing. “Do you own this building, too?”
I laugh and whisper back, “No. But, the company does.”
He squeezes my hand, and I’m starting to get so nervous.
We step out of the car. Reporters are waiting, taking pictures and shouting questions. I forgot to prepare Cal for this, but he handles it with ease. He gets out first, shielding me, holding his hand out and pulling me alongside him, protectively. I don’t think I could evenprepare him, because he already feels like he’s two steps ahead of me in preparingme.
Heads turn as we walk toward the building, and conversations pause. My hand is steady in his, and I feel the second people start clocking us as a unit. I glance at our reflection in the front of the glass building. Hot damn, we look like a power couple.
Wilby trails behind at a careful distance. When we reach the elevators, he leans in to whisper, “You two look so good.”
Cal leans over and whispers back, “We had help.”
Wilby smirks. “I do have good taste in suits.”
“Thanks,” we say at the same time. “Yes, you do.”
The elevator ride is quiet and fast. When the doors open, the vibes shift. The floor hums with power and testosterone, something I’ve always hated. I’ve always wanted to bring more women into finance with me and show them they can do it, too. I’ve encouraged more opportunities for women. Previously, all of my ideas were shot down. Now? I’m going to make damn sure that happens. When I’m done, maybe there’ll be pink everywhere. I smile at that thought.
My mother is standing across the lobby with a small group of older men. She hasn’t seen us yet, but I can see her shaking her head, lips tight, clearly displeased about something. One of the men glances over her shoulder and spots us heading their way. Then another man turns. Both of their eyes widen in surprise. My mother keeps talking, and I hear her mention getting the board to vote on it.
Her voice trails off as she turns, and her gaze sweeps over us, taking in every detail of our outfits, our confident posture, and our hands still linked. We look damn impeccable. And unstoppable.
I haven’t seen or spoken to my mother since my wedding day to Tyler, and everything fell apart. She never reached out, and I didn’t bother to, either. There wasn’t much to say that wouldn’t have ended in bloodshed. I’m done with her bullshit.
She doesn’t say hello or hug me. Or ask to meet my husband. She doesn’t even pretend for the people standing around us.
