“I’m coming down.”
Three minutes later, the elevator opened.
Rachel Bennett crossed the marble quickly.
At fifty-one, Rachel had organized investor conferences long enough to distinguish between people who possessed power and people who merely wore confidence.
She knew founders.
She knew sponsors.
She knew which venture partners arrived late because they were actually busy and which arrived late because they enjoyed making a room wait.
She had personally invited Willa.
More importantly, she had agreed to Willa’s unusual condition.
No photograph in advance.
No keynote publicity.
No special escort.
Rachel sat beside her.
“I pulled the complaint log.”
Willa waited.
“Garrett Sinclair.”
“I know.”
“He reported that you were harassing attendees and refusing to leave a reserved investor area despite not having credentials.”
“I showed Dana my credential.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“Then why was I moved?”
“Because one of my floor managers approved the complaint without checking.”
“Who?”
“Evan Marlow.”
“Why?”
Rachel looked embarrassed.
“Garrett is a top-tier sponsor.”
There it was.
A softer version of the same disease.
Power translated into presumption.
Rachel’s jaw tightened.
“I’m sorry.”
Willa looked toward the revolving doors.
“It isn’t your apology that matters most.”
“No.”