The air smelled like burnt coffee and cheap air freshener.
Her mom had leaned over, brushing a strand of hair from Lysandra’s face, and said: “You don’t need to be loud to be heard, baby.
Just be steady.” Lysandra had nodded, clutching a library book to her chest. That was before the money came.
Before the family name became a whisper in boardrooms.
Before she learned to hide who she was—not out of shame, but because it was the only way to see people’s true colors.
Back in the present, the terminal’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Lysandra’s phone vibrated in her pocket.
She pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and saw a text from her assistant, Claire: “They’re freaking out at HQ.
You good?” Lysandra typed back, quick and simple: “I’m fine, keep them waiting.”
She slipped the phone back into her pocket and stood, slinging her backpack over one shoulder.
