Courtney paced her apartment living room late Sunday evening, her phone pressed to her ear as Jasmine listened on the other end.
"I don't know how much longer I can do this," Courtney admitted, tugging at the sleeve of her oversized sweater. "Ever since that meeting with his uncle, Dwayne's been… unbearable. It's like he's going out of his way to make me feel invisible—or worse, inadequate."
Jasmine sighed. "Girl, you've been saying this for weeks. You're not an assistant. You're a strategist. You should be leading campaigns, not fetching coffee or building presentations that he barely glances at."
"It's not about the title," Courtney said quickly, though her voice wavered. "It's about proving I can survive here. Empire Brands is the pinnacle, Jaz. If I can't make it here, what does that say about me?"
"That maybe you're too good for them," Jasmine countered. "Honestly, Court, sometimes the smartest thing isn't fighting to sit at their table. It's building your own."
