Chapter 6

Layla

I read the number again.

$112,000,000.

Still there.

I leaned closer to my screen and checked the formula for what had to be the twentieth time. Nothing changed. One hundred and twelve million dollars in projected additional revenue over five years if Lightning Solutions Technologies expanded beyond new construction and entered the commercial retrofit market.

It worked. More importantly, I could defend it. Every assumption. Every cost. Every risk.

A small smile pulled at my mouth.

I was good at this.

And after Sunday, I needed the reminder.

Who’s paying for the surgery?

My smile disappeared.

Of all the things Harvey Whitmore had said at lunch, that question had followed me home.

Taylor was helping with Mom’s medical expenses. He’d never complained about it, never made me feel as though I owed him anything. But Harvey had forced me to confront something I didn’t like.

Mom couldn’t work. Her care was getting more expensive, not less, and surgery would only add to it. My father had his own household. Whatever happened, the responsibility for making sure Mom had what she needed would ultimately fall to me.

I loved Taylor. I trusted him.

But I didn’t want my mother’s future dependent on someone else’s bank account. I wanted to be able to do more myself.

And that meant moving up.

I closed the spreadsheet.

“Morning.”

I looked over. Natalie Pierce had stopped beside my desk, coffee in hand.

“Morning.”

“Daniel wants us in the conference room in five.”

My stomach tightened. “For LS?”

“Yep.”

I glanced toward the glass conference room. Daniel Rhodes was already inside.

So was Rachel Bennett.

And three other people.

I frowned. “Who’s that?”

Natalie followed my gaze. “Marcus Foster from Technology Investments. Lauren Milton.” She paused. “And Nigel Springer.”

My head snapped toward her. “Nigel Springer?”

“The one and only.”

Fantastic.

Nigel was visiting from Wellington & Price’s London office. He had been with the firm longer than I’d been alive and had a reputation for being brilliant, demanding and painfully aware of both.

Natalie smiled. “Nervous?”

“No.”

Her eyebrow rose.

“A little.”

“Good. Means I’m not the only one.”

I laughed despite myself.

Five minutes later, I followed her into the conference room.

Daniel looked up. “Good. We’re all here.”

Rachel greeted us, followed by Marcus. Lauren barely glanced up from the document in front of her.

Nigel did.

His eyes moved over Natalie and me.

“These are the analysts?”

“Yes,” Daniel said. “Natalie Pierce and Layla Miller. They’ve handled most of the underlying analysis.”

Nigel’s attention lingered on me. “Miller.”

“Yes.”

“Daniel speaks highly of you.”

Something warm unfurled in my chest. “I hope I live up to it.”

“So do I.”

Lauren smiled.

Not kindly.

I took my seat.

Daniel began. “Lightning Solutions Technologies is seeking eighty million dollars to expand its smart-building platform into four additional markets.”

The first slides moved quickly. Revenue. Existing contracts. Expansion costs.

Then Daniel looked toward us.

“We know LS has viable technology. The question is whether their expansion strategy justifies an eighty-million-dollar investment.”

Nigel leaned back. “Let’s hear it.”

Daniel nodded toward Natalie. “Pierce?”

She began confidently. At first, nothing surprised me.

Then—

“They’re relying too heavily on new construction.”

My attention sharpened.

Marcus looked up. “Explain.”

“I’d create a second expansion arm focused on retrofitting existing commercial properties.”

My fingers went still.

Natalie continued. “Premium office buildings, hotels, high-end residential developments. Thousands of properties are operating with outdated climate, energy and security systems.”

No.

Marcus leaned forward. “That significantly expands their addressable market.”

“Exactly.”

Natalie changed the slide.

“Even using conservative adoption rates, I project an additional one hundred and twelve million dollars in revenue over five years.”

My stomach dropped.

One hundred and twelve.

My number.

The number I had just checked again that morning.

Lauren nodded slowly. “That’s considerably more interesting.”

Nigel studied the figures. “Installation costs?”

Natalie answered.

With my figures.

Marcus asked about customer acquisition. Natalie gave him my answer. Rachel questioned rollout timing, and once again, the response that came out of Natalie’s mouth was mine.

I stared at her.

She hadn’t reached a similar conclusion.

She had my analysis.

All of it.

“The work is strong,” Rachel said.

Natalie smiled. “Thank you.”

Heat crawled beneath my skin.

She was being praised for my work.

Right in front of me.

“Miller.”

I looked up.

Nigel was watching me. “Your assessment?”

My mind blanked for one terrible second. Then I forced it back into place.

“I agree that LS is undervaluing the existing commercial market. But I’d also reconsider launching in all four markets simultaneously. Their current cash position—”

“Pierce covered phased entry,” Marcus interrupted.

I looked at Natalie.

Of course she had.

“Then I’d focus on the exposure created by installation costs during the first eighteen months. If conversion falls below—”

“Page fourteen,” Lauren said, tapping Natalie’s report. “She accounted for it.”

My mouth went dry.

Every direction I turned, Natalie had already been there.

Because I had.

Nigel’s expression changed. “Do you have a recommendation that differs materially from Ms. Pierce’s?”

The answer lodged painfully in my throat.

“No.”

His eyebrows lifted. “No?”

“I reached the same conclusion.”

Lauren looked at Nigel. He gave a quiet exhale and leaned back.

“I see.”

I hated those two words.

Rachel frowned. “If your conclusions were identical, Layla, you should still be able to expand on them.”

“I can.”

“Then do.”

Six faces turned toward me.

I looked at the screen.

My strategy.

My projections.

My work.

And suddenly I was the woman trying to find something intelligent to say about someone else’s presentation.

“I believe the retrofit division could ultimately become LS’s stronger growth channel. Existing buildings eliminate their dependence on construction cycles, and—”

“Yes,” Nigel interrupted. “We’ve established that.”

My cheeks burned.

Silence stretched.

Then Natalie turned slightly toward me.

“I can pull the projections back up if that would help.”

I looked at her.

Her expression was perfectly pleasant. Helpful.

As though she were rescuing me.

“No. Thank you.”

Nigel looked across the table at Daniel. “This is the analyst you were telling me about?”

Something inside me sank.

Daniel’s jaw tightened. “She’s consistently produced strong work.”

Lauren glanced at me, then at Nigel.

“I’m not seeing it.”

There it was.

Not shouted. Not cruel enough for anyone to object.

Somehow that made it worse.

Daniel had put his reputation behind me.

And I was embarrassing him.

Rachel closed the report in front of her. “I’m disappointed, Layla. I expected considerably more from you today.”

“I understand.”

Nigel gave a small shake of his head. “An eighty-million-dollar decision isn’t the place to arrive without something to contribute.”

My nails dug into my palm.

I had contributed.

Every damn thing they had praised for the last twenty minutes had come from me.

But I couldn’t prove it.

Not yet.

Daniel looked at me. “You’ve done better than this.”

That hurt most of all.

“I know.”

“We’ll talk afterward.”

I nodded.

The meeting continued without me.

That might have been the worst part.

Questions moved around the table. Natalie answered them. Nigel challenged her twice, and both times she recovered.

By the end, Rachel was discussing additional modeling she wanted Natalie to complete.

Natalie.

With my strategy.

When we were finally dismissed, I closed my laptop.

“Pierce,” Nigel said.

Natalie stopped.

“Good work.”

“Thank you.”

I walked out before I had to hear anything else.

By the time I reached my desk, humiliation had hardened into something hotter.

Anger.

Maya looked over. “What happened?”

“Give me a minute.”

I sat and opened my laptop.

There had to be an explanation.

I checked the shared project folders first. The final version wasn’t there.

Then my sent emails.

Nothing.

I hadn’t sent Natalie the report.

I opened the final LS file. Every figure she had presented stared back at me.

My retrofit strategy.

My phased rollout.

My projections.

My work.

Someone had gotten into it.

I opened the file history.

LS_Expansion_Final.xlsx

Last accessed: Monday, 8:47 p.m.

I frowned.

I’d left before six.

My heartbeat quickened.

I opened the access record.

An employee login appeared.

Ethan Cole.

I stared at it.

Ethan?

He was a research associate two rows behind me. He wasn’t assigned to LS. He had no reason to open my analysis.

I slowly looked toward his desk.

Empty.

Then back at the screen.

Someone had accessed the file after I went home. Someone who had absolutely no reason to be anywhere near it.

So why the hell had Ethan Cole opened my work?