One year later, I returned to the same NASDAQ podium. My name appeared above it, and the trading floor cameras were pointed at me. I stood where Elias and Lily had stood the year before.
Sebastian stood beside me with the ceremonial wooden gavel. When my introduction ended, he offered it handle first and stepped away from the microphone.
“The floor is yours, Ms. Sterling.”
I took the gavel. Its wooden handle had more weight than the ring I had left on the backstage table. Bankers, analysts, and reporters waited below the podium with my name on their programs.
I brought it down. The *crack* opened trading for Sterling Strategic, whose name filled the board behind me.
Afterward came champagne, handshakes, photographs, and congratulations from the guests around the podium. I moved throug
