She stared at the screen. The watermark glared back. Sterling Corporation. Her father's name typed in clinical font. Treatment dates. Discharge notes. The note below it: He knew what they were doing before he died.
She didn't close the app. She didn't call anyone. She locked the phone. Slid it into her coat pocket. Picked up her presentation folder. Walked out of the office. Down the hall. Into the waiting car.
The industry summit hall holds three thousand seats. Elena steps through the side curtain. Bright lights hit the stage. Cameras line the front row. Reporters lean over barriers. Pens ready. Phones recording. Alexander stands two paces behind her. Dark suit. Hands folded. He doesn't speak. He just watches the crowd. The moderator taps the podium. Checks the mic. Nods to Elena.
She steps to the center. Adjusts the stand mic. Looks out. Doesn't smile. Doesn't flinch.
"Vance Analytics does not borrow success," she says. Voice clear. Even. "It builds it."
