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A familiar tension rises in my chest. The same feeling that had driven me to walk out of Dad’s office two years ago when he’d suggested I wasn’t ready for leadership. I take a deep breath, watching the dawn light slowly illuminate the skyline. Getting defensive about Emma’s capabilities won’t help either of us. Her work speaks for itself—her market prediction model saved oursolar division $12 million last quarter alone if Garrett would just look at the numbers instead of waiting for her to fail.

Waiting for us both to fail.

“You’re here early.”

I look up to find Sophie in my doorway, holding two cups of coffee and wearing an expression that’s far too knowing for 6 AM.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I admit, accepting one cup. “What’s your excuse?”

“My big brother is about to face his first vote by the board as CEO, where he’ll have to convince the old guards that our future lies in sustainable tech rather than traditional energy markets. Where else would I be?” She drops into one of my visitor chairs, making it look like a throne. “Plus, I heard through the grapevine that Garrett’s being particularly Garrett-ish about Emma’s proposal.”

“The grapevine being Emma?”

“The grapevine being Natalie, who heard Emma stress-organizing the supply closet at midnight.” Sophie sips her coffee. “She was muttering about prehistoric board members who wouldn’t know innovation if it color-coded their filing system and created a sustainability matrix of their ongoing incompetence.”

I can’t help but smile, picturing it. Emma standing on a stepladder in the supply room, sorting binders by energy efficiency while muttering statistics under her breath. She’s always been like that—channeling her nervous energy into organizing things. During college finals, she’d color-coded her entire study group’s notes by subject and probability of test questions. They all got As.

“The proposal is solid,” I say, more to myself than Sophie. “Emma’s strategy is solid. Direct, efficient, transformative. Her integrated approach will redefine our renewable energy services.The automated processing cuts response time by 60%. If Garrett would just stop focusing on optics and look at results—“

“Stop seeing you as the guy who turned the senior partners’ retreat into an impromptu pool party?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “The same guy who then went to New York and turned three failing energy startups into profitable green tech leaders?”

“The board doesn’t care about Matthews & Sterling’s success rate. They see me as a liability—the prodigal son who fled to New York after fighting with Dad, only coming back when he got sick.”

“That’s not fair. You specialized in corporate turnarounds, made junior partner in record time—“

“While maintaining a reputation as Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor and showing up on Page Six more often than the boardroom.” I run a hand through my hair, probably ruining whatever styling attempt I made this morning. “They’re waiting for me to fail. Brighton’s offering the Johnsons next-gen technology and guaranteed board seats. And my big plan is to bet everything on Emma—“

“The girl who increased our renewable energy market share by 35% last year?” Sophie interrupts. “The same girl you’ve been in love with since she face-planted into our pool at my sweet sixteen?”

The memory hits me with unexpected clarity, sharp and vivid despite the years—sixteen-year-old Emma emerging from our pool, dripping wet and laughing despite her embarrassment, a half-eaten cupcake still clutched triumphantly in her raised hand. “Saved it!” she’d declared, as if this small victory mattered more than her soaked clothes. I’d handed her a towel, our fingers brushing, something fundamental shifting in that simple contact.

“I’m not—that’s not—“ I sputter, then catch her raised eyebrow. “It’s complicated.”

“Only because you make it complicated. You like her. She likes you. The only thing standing in your way is your determination to prove yourself to a bunch of old men who think solar power is a fad.”

“And the fact that I’m her boss. And the board’s expectations. And the Johnson account. And Project Phoenix’s entire future—“

A knock interrupts my list.

Sophie and I both turn to see Garrett in the doorway, tablet in hand, like always.

“Mr. Walker. A word about the Johnson presentation? Moving it up to this afternoon; certain board members are concerned about Ms. Hastings’ readiness. The timeline adjustment would be prudent given recent developments.”

Sophie stands, straightening her blazer. “That’s my cue to go do whatever it is Marketing does all day. Try not to organize any underwater ballet between now and the meeting.”

As she passes Garrett, she smiles at him with practiced sweetness.

“Mr. Garrett! I was just reading about retirement packages yesterday for a marketing campaign. I’d be happy to share some literature with you.”

She sashays out, leaving me to face Garrett’s disapproving expression. He waits until she’s gone before speaking, his jaw tightening slightly at my sister’s parting shot.

“The board has some concerns about the Johnson strategy.”

Of course, they do. I gesture for him to continue, keeping my face neutral even as my pulse quickens.

“While Ms. Hastings’ presentation was enthusiastic,” he says the word like it’s a character flaw, “there are questions about the timeline. Brighton offers immediate integration with SolarTech’s systems. Our development schedule puts us eighteen months behind their technology.”

“Emma’s strategy cuts that gap to six months,” I counter. “Her integrated approach—“