Page 39 of Most Eligible Billionaire

“You’re voting no?” Mandy says, glaring at me, then she turns to Henry, expecting him to do something. I supposedly run this company, but everybody is always looking at Henry for everything.

“Smuckers votes no,” I say, needing to take some kind of control back. “Smuckers didn’t find the argument compelling. At all.”

Mandy stands. She’s mad. Everybody’s mad—their anger twirls my gut into a pretzel, but I stand there like I don't care. They tried to push me around and I’m done being pushed around.

Never again.

“Can you articulate an actual reason?” Mandy asks in a barely controlled monotone. “Other than your being a jerk?”

“Let’s dial it back,” Henry says coolly. I don’t know whether he’s talking to me or her. Maybe both. He’s saying something about the software. A phased implementation, something.

I’m not hearing him past the rushing in my ears, the thickness in my throat.

The horrible girl, hated by all.

I’m back walking out of that police station, all the angry questions and cameras.

I’m in my bedroom, hated Vonda O’Neil, venturing onto Twitter and Facebook, wanting desperately to find somebody out there defending me, saying they believe me.

It would’ve meant so much.

The picture they’d always post of me that summer became iconic. It was one my mom took of me just before we’d gone out to dinner at Applebee’s the summer before. I was fifteen, standing against the hickory tree by the rusty fence, grinning like I’d never stop. I’d gotten straight A’s and that was our deal—straight A’s gets an Applebee’s dinner.

That was a good summer. It was just my mom and my sister and me, mostly—no skeevy boyfriends.

Mom was in a program at the time, and she had some kind of prescription that leveled her out. And I felt like, if I just kept being the best daughter ever, things would work out.

Staring out at the camera that night, I could’ve never imagined all of America would’ve ended up staring back at me, hating me just a year later.

Carly had encouraged me to wear her blue sweater today to go with my Smuck U stuff, but I’m glad I didn’t. Why did I think of such a crazy plan?

I straighten.Don’t crumble. Hold your head up high.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I can see why you’d be mad after being bullied and tricked. Or being threatened if you don’t take a payout. Or being unfairly brought to the police station…oh wait—that’s whatyou guysdid tome.”

Mandy rises. “This is impossible. This is not okay.”

Henry simply crosses his legs. “It’s a business problem with a business solution.”

Mandy slams her folder back together and yanks her laptop cord out of the wall. She walks out with all of the stuff hanging in her arms.

Heart pounding, I make a production out of closing my notebook and repacking my bag. I can feel Henry’s gaze on me. “We’ll revisit this thing,” he says.

I feel dizzy. I should give it all back. Hide in my turtle shell. Why did I think I could do this?Zip zip snap.

“Hold on,” Henry says. “We have something else on the table.”

I set my bag down. I sit. I fold my shaking hands in my lap. “What?”

“We do charitable giving through the Locke Foundation,” he says. “I can’t remember the last time we gave to an animal charity. With Smuckers on the board now, I think it might be a nice gesture for the foundation to fund up a needy local rescue or shelter. A substantial gift.”

I sit up.An animal shelter?

Kaleb is instantly on board, suggesting a giant cardboard check.

“Love it,” Brett says. “People are going to hear about Smuckers soon enough. Let’s make it a fun news story.”

“Right?” Henry turns to me. “You wouldn’t be opposed to that, would you? Or, I’m sorry, Smuckers?”

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