I leaned back on my leather chair, watching the ceiling like it had the answers to every complicated feeling I had.
The presentation was over. The applause had died down. Mr. Darious was won—for now. The housing project Welcome Home had been praised for its heartfelt design and innovation. People loved it. Investors loved it. But somehow, I… didn’t feel anything.
Because the one person I actually wanted to tell about the win—Maurice Miranda—was nowhere near to hear it.
God. Why was she taking up space in my head again?
After everything she said to me at that old, crumbling church… after slapping me and calling me names I never even thought I’d hear in my life from an employee—I should’ve been furious. I should’ve fired back. Blacklist her from every firm in the city.
But I didn’t. And
