The boardroom gleamed with its usual polished formality, a long mahogany table stretching beneath recessed lighting that glared down like judgmental eyes. The walls were lined with modern art meant to inspire creativity, though today the air felt less like inspiration and more like scrutiny. Courtney sat near the end of the table, her palms pressed flat against the folder before her, willing herself to remain calm.
This was supposed to be a standard Monday review—updates on campaigns, client status reports, projections for the next quarter. She had attended countless of these as Dwayne's assistant, always quietly arranging papers, pouring coffee, making herself invisible. But today she sat as a manager in her own right, with her own team, her own ideas, her own voice. Even so, she couldn't shake the unease curling in her stomach. Something felt different about this meeting.
