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“Excuse me,” I say to DeAndria, and she taps the counter in acknowledgment and finishes her drink.

“Bitch, I’ve been texting you! Patterson let us out early. Get your ass outside before I get into a tussle with a meter maid.” Yennifer shouts, and a car horn blares from her side of the connection. Thankfully, she pulls the phone away from her face before yelling at someone nearby.

“Ah, sorry! Two seconds,” I rush, ending the call without waiting for her acknowledgment. Stuffing my belongings back into my bag, I sling it over one shoulder and toss my half-eaten energy bar in the trash.

“Congratulations again,” I say, heading for the door.

“Just think about what I said, Shae,” DeAndria replies, chucking her now-empty bottle into the recycling. “And think about what you want in this life.”

What I want? Harvard is what I want.

…right?

“Thank you,” I say, my voice feeling weak. DeAndria smiles in reply.

A knowing smile.

Tilting my head down in acknowledgment, I spin on my heel and sprint for the exit.

7

STORM

The blue light from my laptop is burning a hole in my retinas, but I keep scrolling. Spreadsheets and projections cover every inch of my desk. None of it makes sense, yet.

I tap my pen on my yellow legal pad, looking at the notes I’ve collected over the past several hours.

Reclaim Stratos

My end goal is simple: to prevent Lakeland from becoming managing partner at Stratos.

Dad still has several months, maybe even years, until he’s set to step down…which is why naming Lakeland so early is concerning and confusing. Nonetheless, we are where we are, and I’ve gotta make a move or accept that Stratos is gone.

Which is unacceptable.

I’ve got to get rid of Lakeland, and I’d prefer to do it without bloodshed.

If possible.

I grab my phone, scrolling through my contacts for my freshman-year roommate. Axel’s social life is ultimately what caused us to part ways. There was a rumor going around that he was one of Bob Marley’s kids, simply because he’s got long locs and if you squint with one eye, he looks like he could probably be related to Ziggy—except with more manicured hair. Of course, he’s not related to the Marleys. His family is from a small island off the coast of the Carolinas, and they’ve been there for generations. But he still let the rumor persist well past winter break.

In the end, Axel got mixed up with some weirdos—no other way to describe them—and began hosting hack-a-thons, bringing people to the dorm at all hours of the night. No clue what he was doing with them, not that I really care, because fact is, Axel’s a genius and is willing to uncover anyone’s dirty laundry for the right price.

He’s got a complex moral compass, and I like that about him.

Long time, no text. Call me. It’s important.

Then, just to make sure he knows I’m talking about business, I Zelle him five grand.

My phone rings as soon as theMoney Sentmessage pops up on my screen.

“Wait,” Axel says as soon as I pick up, and I know to remain silent while several clicks sound over the speaker. After several seconds, Axel says, “Okay, talk.”

With the line secure, I offer an abbreviated summary of what’s going on and where I need his help.

“Lakeland Sandoval. He’s my uncle and now the successor to Stratos Wealth Fund.”

“Your dad’s gig?” Axel releases a low whistle. Does everyone else see how fucked up this is that he passed me over?