Fortune and Faith

The city was still asleep when Serena’s alarm went off at 5:00 a.m., but she was already awake.

She never waited for the sound—her mind always beat it.

Dressed in a crisp navy suit, she sat at her laptop in the dimly lit kitchen, typing rapid responses to client emails.

Yet, as she sipped her black coffee, her chest tightened with a familiar ache.

Is this it? Is this all life is supposed to be?

Money. Power. Approval.

A ladder she climbed endlessly, praying it led somewhere meaningful.

She pushed the thought away and typed faster.

Downstairs in the living room, Talia lay curled on the couch, laptop still open, a dozen lines of code glowing on the screen. She had fallen asleep debugging but woke up with a frustrated sigh, rubbing her eyes.

She was a fintech prodigy—people in the industry whispered her name like a promise of disruption.

But her talent came with obsession.

Another long night. Another battle with code.

Her hair was a mess. Her eyes burned.

But when her app finally compiled successfully, her heart fluttered.

“It works…” she whispered to herself, smiling softly.

Then, quieter: “Thank You, God. Please… let this be the start of something.”

Her faith was faint, almost fragile—a whisper she wanted to believe but rarely had time to nurture.

Across the hall, Amara Burnett lay sprawled in her silk sheets, her phone buzzing nonstop.

BOARD REMINDER:

Presentation at 3:00 PM. Please have your projections finalized.

She slid the notification away.

Her head throbbed from last night’s club outing—her rare attempt to escape stress. She barely enjoyed it, but she stayed until her walls softened enough to forget the sting of her past.

Four years since her heart was broken.

Four years of pretending she didn’t need anyone.

Four years of building a hedge fund empire brick by brick—because money never betrayed her.

She rolled out of bed slowly, dragging herself toward the shower. Water poured over her like a wake-up call she wasn’t ready for.

In her room, Leah stood in front of her mirror surrounded by an explosion of clothes.

Outfit number six.

Then seven.

Then eight.

She was a brilliant venture capitalist with a personality that could charm a room instantly. But today, the pressure felt heavier. She had a massive investor meeting, and she needed to look—and feel—strong.

Which was hard, considering she cried herself to sleep over the breakup.

Six months with a man who pretended to love her but was secretly trying to use her money.

The betrayal still stung…but she was determined to start fresh.

She exhaled, put on a fitted cream blazer with gold buttons, a soft peach blouse, and sleek trousers. Her curls bounced as she fluffed them one last time.

She stepped out with a bright smile she didn’t fully feel.

“Hey girls,” she said, striking a playful pose. “Be honest—how do I look? I have this big investor meeting today. It’s for a solar energy startup I’m obsessed with.”

“You look incredible,” Serena said without looking up, typing furiously.

“You’ll close that deal,” Talia added confidently.

Amara nodded. “You’ve got this.”

Leah’s eyes softened with gratitude. “Love you all. Pray for me!”

She grabbed her purse and heels, then headed out.

After Leah left, Amara swung her legs off the bed and slowly prepared for her own day. She opened her laptop and forced herself to finish the last of the presentation slides.

Charts. Projections. Risk analysis.

Her brain snapped into work mode instantly.

Once done, she took another quick shower, then slipped into a black tailored gown paired with a fitted waistcoat. She pulled on sheer pantyhose, black boot heels, and misted herself with Chanel perfume.

Her transformation was seamless—exhausted woman turned polished powerhouse.

She grabbed her bag and headed to her Benz.

Serena, already on the road, received a call.

“Serena, we need you at the company ASAP,” her supervisor said sharply.

“On my way,” she replied, tightening her grip on the wheel.

There was never room to breathe.

Meanwhile, Talia finally stretched after hours of coding victory. She changed into her gym set, packed her bag, and headed out.

Walking to the gym, inspiration hit her like lightning—new features, new designs, new revenue ideas. She opened her notes app and typed as fast as she could.

By the time she got to the gym, her playlist was blasting, and she disappeared into her workout—reps, sweat, the rhythmic escape she desperately needed.

When she finished, she felt alive again.

She returned home, showered quickly, and lay down for a short nap before diving back into work.

Amara walked into the corporate tower with confidence she had perfected over the years. She arrived early, reviewed her materials one last time, then entered the boardroom.

The CEO smiled. “Our brilliant hedge fund manager, Amara Burnett, will now present strategies that could triple our returns.”

She stood, shoulders squared, every step deliberate.

As she spoke—projecting data, unveiling strategies, revealing risks—the room shifted.

Investors leaned forward, whispering among themselves.

Some were surprised.

Some impressed.

All captivated.

A woman with this level of mastery? Precision? Fearlessness?

It was rare—and unforgettable.

When she concluded, silence hung for a beat, then—

The board erupted in applause.

“Outstanding,” one investor said.

“Brilliant analysis,” another added.

The CEO turned to her with a proud smile.

“Approved. We’ll commit three hundred million to the solar and hydro projects.”

A warm rush washed through Amara’s chest, though she hid it behind a professional nod.

Victory never felt like joy—only relief.

She spent the rest of the day managing trades and analyzing charts until she looked up and realized it was already 9 p.m.

Her stomach growled. Her back ached. Her mind buzzed.

It was time to go home.

Back at the penthouse, she walked in to find Talia dragging several packages into the living room.

“Girl…” Amara raised an eyebrow. “What did you buy? This is the fourth time this week. And it’s only Monday.”

Talia laughed. “Retail therapy is a coping mechanism.”

“You know we’re all rich,” Amara said dryly, “but maybe invest in stocks instead of—whatever this is.”

“Yess, boss,” Talia teased.

Then her smile faded. “Amara… you look exhausted. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Amara insisted.

“No, you’re working yourself to death,” Talia said gently. “You only went out one time in three months, and you don’t even rest. You deserve love, relaxation… something.”

Amara looked away.

They walked inside together and found Serena and Leah relaxing on the couch.

Leah sat up. “Okay, listen. We’ve all been stressed. So… let’s do something different this weekend. Not work. Not clubs.”

She grinned mischievously. “A gala. Something classy. We can dress up, unwind…”

She turned to Amara.

“And maybe someone will finally open her heart to love.”

The girls burst into laughter.

Amara shook her head but couldn’t help the small smile tugging her lips.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

She didn’t know anymore.

But for the first time in a long while…

the idea didn’t feel impossible.