Page 73 of My Totally Unfair Deal

ELIZA

Conference, Day Nine

My palms are sweating as I grip the edges of the podium, trying to steady my breath.

I click to the next slide in my pitch deck—an aerial rendering of what the farm will look like in five years: luxury guest rooms tucked behind restored silos, a serene wedding lawn outlined by wildflowers, an actual rose garden that looks like something out of a magazine.

I stick to the facts. I talk about occupancy rates, sustainable revenue models, customer loyalty metrics. But my voice doesn’t sound nervous anymore.

It soundsstrong.

Confident.

Somewhere along the way, I stop reading from my notes. I justtalk—and I can feel the shift. People are paying attention. Hanging on every word. Even Harper Sage isn’t checking her phone.

“I may be a Southern girl who spent most of her life tending cattle instead of spreadsheets,” I say, letting the edge of myaccent slip through, “and I know I only have a business degree, not an MBA. But my late parents taught me how to recognize a sure thing when I see it.”

I pause, looking out at the room.

“And my farm resort? That’s a sure thing.”

I hit the final slide.

Silence.

Dozens of eyes still locked on me, unreadable. For one awful second, I wonder if I completely misjudged the room. Were they captivated… or horrified?

Did I just blow it?

I scan the crowd—searching, aching for reassurance—and then I see him.

Harrison.

He’s near the back. Rising slowly to his feet.

And he starts clapping.

One slow, deliberate clap after another.

And then someone else joins in. Then another. Until nearly the entire room—everyoneexceptHarper—is on their feet. Applaudingme.

A standing ovation.

I nod into the mic, barely remembering how to breathe. “Thank you.”

As I step down from the stage, handing off my slides to the tech assistant, I catch Harrison’s eye. My feet move toward him before I can think.

I lift my arms for a hug—grinning, breathless—but he doesn’t move.

He gently lowers my arms.

“Oh… not in public?” I ask, laughing awkwardly.

“Right,” he says. “And not ever again.”

I blink. “What?”

He doesn’t give me an answer.

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