Page 23 of Ansel

Neha gave me a measured look. “I asked him not to, told him you’re going to deal with this. He agreed. He doesn’t want to get caught up in the crossfire between two senior executives.”

I let out a weary sigh. “I don’t blame him. And it’s not like we have concrete proof of any real damage. So far, I’ve either caught the mistakes or avoided using the data she sent, which means nothing major has happened.”

“Nothing major has happened,yet,” she reminded me.

My mind raced. I needed to review everything she had sent me, find patterns, and see if there was already a paper trail of inconsistencies.

“You need to go through everything she sends you. Find patterns. See if there is already a paper trail of inconsistencies,” Neha rattled off.

Like minds, I thought, pleased with her.

“Will do.”

We were silent for a moment and then Neha banged a fist on the counter. “She’s such a horrible human being. Women work so hard to get ahead, and she’s just shitting all over feminism.” Her eyes went sharp. “We need to take her down.”

My heart soared. Did she saywe?

“We will,” I promised her.

“Good! We need a plan,” she mused.

We certainly did!

A rare sense of lightness settled in my chest.Wewere a team again, and it felt damn good.

10

REALITY BITES!

ANSEL

Ihad been in plenty of high-pressure meetings before—negotiations where billions were on the line, deals where one wrong number could send everything into freefall. But nothing had ever felt quite like this, because today wasn’t about winning; it was about justice.

I stood at the head of the sleek glass conference table, a dozen executives watching as I presented the projections for the next two quarters.

Vanessa sat a few seats down, completely unaware that the floor beneath her was seconds away from crumbling. At the end of the table, sitting like she had no cares in the world, was Eleanor Monroe, the Chief Human Resources Officer for Sterling & Co. Investments. She didn’t always attend these meetings, but no one questioned her presence. Sometimes, she attended to get better insight into the business, and others when structural or personnel shifts were coming

Today, the shift was Vanessa’s exit.

I clicked to the next slide. A financial projection filled the massive screen behind me—clean, professional, persuasive. But incorrect.

I turned to the room. "Can anyone tell me what’s wrong with this data?"

Charlie, seated near the middle of the table, furrowed his brow in mock concentration as this little dialog was planned and rehearsed.

"The projections seem off to me. They’re too inflated, I think. Ansel, can we see the full calculations behind them?"

I turned to Vanessa, my expression carefully blank. "Vanessa, this came from your team. Do you have the breakdown?"

She barely hesitated. "Of course." She flipped open her laptop, skimming through her meticulously prepared numbers. Then, without missing a beat, she lied. "Actually, the data we provided you is not what you’re presenting." She turned her gaze on me, her expression just the right mix of suspicion and concern. "Ansel, it appears that you made some adjustments."

Patrick, my boss, and the Senior VP, shifted slightly in his chair, his gaze sharpening as he took in our exchange.

I didn’t rise to the bait. I simply clicked to the next slide. Another analysis, another false projection.

Patrick frowned. "That revenue forecast is completely wrong. The risk assessment doesn’t match up with the previous quarter’s trends."

I nodded, letting his words settle before speaking. "That’s correct. This one also came from Vanessa’s team."

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