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I scroll further. My stomach drops. “Mom. You sent him a picture of yourself in bed.”
She snatches the phone back. “It was tasteful! Just a little décolletage. You couldn't see anything.”
“I'm going to die.” I press my fingers to my temples, half-laughing, half-horrified.
“If it helps, he ghosted me the moment he realized the mistake.”
“That doesn't help!”
“He was polite!” she insists. “A perfect gentleman, actually.”
I groan again.
Mom watches me, and her expression shifts from bemusement to seriousness. “You need to tell him.”
My head jerks up. “What?”
“You're working together. You need to clear the air.”
“I don't even know how to begin that conversation.”
“Start with the truth. The digits were transposed. You didn't mean to mislead him.”
“He probably wouldn't believe me.”
“Then show him your number next to mine.” She tilts her head. “He may not like it, but he'll respect it.”
I rest my hands on the table, breath catching. “He doesn't trust me. And I need him to trust me if I'm going to save this company.”
“Exactly. Honesty earns trust.” She pauses, her gaze thoughtful. “And Layla? You might not what to hear this, but... there was something in his messages. He wasn't just flirting. He was curious. Asking real questions. About life. Meaning. You don't fake that kind of interest.”
I blink. “You read that from his texts?”
“Sweetheart, I raised you. I know how people communicate when they care.”
My pulse stutters. The idea of it, of him actually being interested in me, is terrifying. It wedges something uncomfortable in my chest.
“Even if that's true,” I say slowly, “it's too late now. Healready hates me. And even if he was still interested, the dynamic has shifted. I still need to protect my people.”
Mom gives a knowing nod. “Then do both. Fight for the company. And fight for clarity.”
“Do I even want clarity?”
“Layla.” She thins out her lips and uses her mom voice on me, and I immediately react.
“OK. I'll talk to the guy.” I stand, pulling out my wallet. “But not until I've gone through everything one last time. If we can get the NeuraTech prototype developed in time, it might be our last hope.”
Her eyebrows rise. “It's almost ready?”
“Not really. But Audrey said they might be able to get it working sooner. If they can do that, the valuation goes up, and then I can argue to save for jobs. It's a longshot, but it's the one piece of leverage I have.”
Mom reaches for the check. “Let me get this. You've got a legacy to save.”
I smile faintly, still reeling from everything. “Thanks, Mom. As weird as this was, thanks for clarifying... well, all of it.”
“My pleasure.” She cups my face. “And Layla? Don't write off a connection just because it's messy.”
I wave her off, giving her a quick hug then heading for my car with a head full of prototype schematics and business strategy and one very inconvenient realization.