Marrissa's point of view
I stood outside the shimmering glass doors of the executive conference room with my heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to escape.
Behind those doors was a panel of investors, each one a name I had memorized from the dossier Mr. Adrian handed me just yesterday.
The Echelon Project. A multi-million-dollar initiative that could reshape tech-integrated education.
“You’ve got this,” Samira whispered beside me, nudging my arm. She had tagged along under the pretense of delivering tea, but I knew she was really there to support me. My ride-or-die bestie.
I took one deep breath. Then I walked in.
Thirty-seven minutes later, I came out looking like I had fought a war and somehow survived. My hands trembled, but my voice had not cracked once. I answered every question, deflected the skepticism, and even got to make them laugh.
“How did it go?” Samira asked, practically vibrating with excitement.
“I think…” I exhaled, blinking. “I think I killed it.”
“YES!”
