Page 23 of Worth the Risk (Worth It All #1)
She’s wearing a professional navy dress that brings out her eyes, her hair pulled back in a style that’s both polished and approachable. Her hands are steady as she connects her laptop to the projection system, but I catch the slight tremor in her fingers that betrays her nerves.
“Ready?” I ask quietly.
“Ready,” she replies, though her voice carries the weight of everything Highland’s community is counting on.
The board members file in—Harrison, Patricia, Donovan, Melanie, and Roderick—all carrying tablets and wearing the kind of neutral expressions that reveal nothing about their intentions.
But I notice Harrison’s slight frown when he sees the extent of Maya’s preparation, the comprehensive materials that suggest this isn’t just a community wish list.
“Miss Navarro,” Harrison settles at the head of the table. “Thank you for joining us this morning. We’re looking forward to your presentation.”
“Thank you for the opportunity.” Maya moves to the front of the room with the same determined energy she brought to my office six weeks ago. “I’m excited to share Highland Community Center’s vision for historic preservation and community-business partnership.”
For the next forty-five minutes, Maya delivers a presentation that’s masterful—clear, comprehensive, and compelling.
She walks through Highland’s twenty-year history, demonstrates the community impact of their programs, and presents detailed financial projections for mixed-use development that incorporates historic preservation.
The numbers are impressive. Transit-oriented development incentives, historic tax credits, and premium pricing for authentic neighborhood character combine to make preservation potentially more profitable than demolition.
Maya answers technical questions with confidence, addresses concerns about construction costs with realistic estimates, and demonstrates that Highland’s preservation could be both good business and good citizenship.
I watch the board members’ faces as she speaks, noting Patricia’s obvious interest and Donovan’s thoughtful questions. Even Melanie seems engaged by the financial projections. For the first time since this collaboration began, I feel genuine hope that we might actually win this.
When Maya finishes, the conference room is quiet. The board members review her materials, occasionally murmuring to each other, while Maya returns to her seat beside me. I catch her hand under the table, squeezing gently in what I hope feels like encouragement.
“Thank you, Miss Navarro,” Harrison says finally. “This is a comprehensive proposal. Before we proceed to deliberation, I have an update that affects our timeline considerations.”
Maya nods, her professional composure intact despite what I know must be racing anxiety.
“The Metro expansion utility conflicts have been resolved ahead of schedule,” Harrison continues, pulling out his tablet. “The transit hub will open as originally planned, which significantly impacts our development strategy.”
I feel Maya tense beside me as she processes this information. We’d built part of our argument around the delays creating opportunities for Pierce Enterprises to position itself advantageously.
“This is excellent news for the Anderson Project’s market positioning,” Harrison continues. “It also means we can proceed with luxury development on our original aggressive timeline without the infrastructure complications that were affecting investor confidence.”
“How does this impact Highland’s proposal?” Maya asks, her voice steady despite the obvious blow to one of her key arguments.
“It changes the fundamental equation we’re evaluating,” Harrison replies. “With Metro complications resolved, luxury condos become significantly more profitable than mixed-use development with preservation requirements.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop. I can feel Maya’s growing realization that external circumstances have undermined her carefully constructed proposal through no fault of her own.
“However,” I interject, “Highland’s proposal still offers superior long-term value. Historic preservation provides permanent tax benefits, community partnerships create sustained positive PR value, and authentic neighborhood character commands premium pricing for decades rather than quarters.”
“Valid points,” Donovan acknowledges. “But we have fiduciary responsibilities to maximize shareholder return.”
“Which Highland’s proposal does,” Maya says firmly. “The financial projections demonstrate twelve percent higher profit margins over ten years compared to conventional luxury development.”
“Projected margins,” Melanie corrects. “Mixed-use development involves regulatory uncertainties that could impact those projections significantly.”
I can see Maya’s frustration building, but she maintains her professional demeanor. “All development involves regulatory risk. Historic preservation actually provides more regulatory certainty through established tax credit programs.”
“Miss Navarro raises excellent points,” Patricia says. “I’m impressed by the thoroughness of this proposal.”
“As am I,” Donovan adds. “The community partnership model could position Pierce Enterprises as an industry leader.”
Harrison’s expression grows more serious.
“While I appreciate the community engagement this process represents, I have concerns about the complexity Miss Navarro is proposing. Mixed-use development requires extensive coordination with community organizations that may not share our timeline priorities. Historic preservation involves regulatory reviews that could delay construction significantly.”
“Delays that are offset by substantial financial benefits,” I argue. “The tax incentives alone justify the additional coordination costs.”
“Perhaps. But Pierce Enterprises has built its reputation on reliable project delivery and predictable returns.” Harrison leans forward. “This proposal, while innovative, represents a fundamental departure from our proven development model.”
I feel the momentum shifting against us, see Maya’s growing realization that her brilliant proposal is being dismissed not on its merits but on Pierce Enterprises’ institutional conservatism.
“I’d like to call for a formal vote,” I say, surprising everyone including myself. “Highland’s preservation proposal versus luxury condo development.”
Harrison looks genuinely startled. “Declan, I’m not sure a formal vote is necessary. We could continue deliberating?—”
“I think it’s essential,” I interrupt, standing up. “This decision will define Pierce Enterprises’ approach to community development for years to come. The board should go on record about whether we prioritize community partnership or default to maximum short-term profits.”
Maya looks at me with something that might be admiration or concern. Around the table, board members exchange uncomfortable glances.
“The community has presented a proposal that offers superior long-term returns while strengthening Pierce Enterprises’ reputation and positioning us as industry leaders in sustainable development,” I continue, my voice growing more passionate.
“If we reject that in favor of conventional luxury condos, we’re choosing the easy path over the innovative one. ”
“Declan,” Harrison’s voice carries a warning. “You’re advocating very strongly for a proposal that aligns with your personal feelings about this situation.”
“I’m advocating for a proposal that makes good business sense while honoring the community partnerships we’ve been building for months.
” I look directly at him. “If Pierce Enterprises can’t recognize superior value when it’s presented with comprehensive research and compelling financials, then we need to question our decision-making process. ”
The tension in the room is electric. Maya sits perfectly still beside me, but I can feel her shock at my public challenge to Harrison’s authority.
“Very well,” Harrison says finally, his voice cold. “All in favor of proceeding with luxury condos as originally planned?”
Melanie raises her hand immediately. Roderick follows after a moment’s hesitation. Harrison pauses, clearly aware that his vote will be scrutinized, then raises his own hand.
Three votes for demolition.
“All in favor of mixed-use development with Highland preservation?”
I raise my hand without hesitation. Patricia joins me, followed by Donovan who looks genuinely conflicted but ultimately votes for preservation.
Three to three.
The silence that follows feels eternal.
“Three to three,” Harrison announces. “In the case of tied board votes, Pierce Enterprises bylaws require the chairman to cast the deciding vote.”
My heart pounds as I realize Highland’s fate comes down to Harrison’s single decision. The man who’s spent months trying to minimize community input is now the sole arbiter of Highland’s future.
Harrison looks around the table, his gaze lingering on Maya’s expectant face, then on mine. “Given our fiduciary responsibility to maximize shareholder return, and considering the increased profitability of luxury development with resolved Metro complications...”
He pauses, and I can see Maya holding her breath.
“I vote for proceeding with luxury condos as originally planned.”
Four to three. Highland loses by Harrison’s single vote.
The silence that follows is deafening. I watch Maya’s face as the reality sinks in—months of work, brilliant research, community hopes, all dismissed by one man’s decision to prioritize profit margins over partnership.
“Motion carries,” Harrison says with obvious satisfaction. “Pierce Enterprises will proceed with demolition and luxury condo construction to begin in six weeks. Miss Navarro, we appreciate your thorough presentation, but the board has decided to maintain our original development strategy.”
Maya sits perfectly still for a moment, her face carefully blank. Then she stands with mechanical precision and begins gathering her materials.
“Miss Navarro,” Harrison calls after her. “Pierce Enterprises will provide generous relocation assistance to ease Highland’s transition.”
Maya pauses, her back still turned to the table. When she speaks, her voice is steady but carrying an edge that makes everyone pay attention.
“Keep your assistance, Mr. Gordon.” She turns to face the board, and there’s something in her expression—not defeat, but a cold fury that’s more intimidating than any emotional outburst. “Highland Community Center has served this community for twenty years with minimal resources and maximum impact. We’ve survived economic downturns, natural disasters, and systematic neglect by city officials who forgot we existed. ”
She steps closer to the table, her presence suddenly commanding the room.
“We’ll survive Pierce Enterprises too. But I want this board to understand something.
” Her gaze moves from Harrison to each board member in turn.
“You didn’t just vote against preserving a building.
You voted against twenty years of after-school programs that kept children safe while their parents worked multiple jobs.
You voted against ESL classes that helped immigrants become citizens.
You voted against cultural preservation that maintained connections between generations. ”
Her voice grows stronger, more passionate.
“You voted against emergency shelter during crises, job training for teenagers aging out of foster care, and citizenship test preparation for people pursuing the American dream. You voted against community meetings where neighbors solved problems together instead of calling police. You voted against the kind of social infrastructure that actually prevents the urban decay your luxury developments claim to solve.”
The board members shift uncomfortably, but Maya isn’t finished.
“Most importantly, you voted to prove that when corporations promise community partnership, they mean partnership that doesn’t cost them anything. You’ve demonstrated that Pierce Enterprises considers community engagement a marketing strategy, not a business principle.”
She gathers the last of her materials, her movements deliberate and controlled.
“Highland will relocate. We’ll rebuild our programs in multiple locations, probably serving families more effectively than centralized programming ever could.
We’ll prove that community strength doesn’t depend on corporate generosity or the buildings that house it.
” Maya’s smile is sharp, determined. “And when we do, Pierce Enterprises will be remembered as the company that chose profit over partnership when given the opportunity to build something meaningful.”
She heads toward the door, then pauses to look back at the board.
“Thank you for the education about how corporate democracy actually works. Highland’s families will benefit from understanding exactly what they’re up against.”
The door closes behind her with a soft click, leaving the board members sitting in uncomfortable silence.
“Well,” Harrison says finally, clearing his throat. “I think that went as well as could be expected. Declan, I’ll need you to coordinate the transition timeline with our construction team.”
I stare at him, processing what he’s asking. Coordinate Highland’s destruction. Manage the demolition of everything Maya cares about after watching her deliver the most powerful defense of community values I’ve ever witnessed.
“Of course,” I hear myself say. “I’ll handle the details.”
But as the board members file out, discussing construction schedules and profit projections like they didn’t just witness Maya Navarro systematically dismantle their justifications for corporate callousness, I know that I can’t handle this.
I can’t be part of Highland’s destruction after watching Maya fight with such fierce intelligence and moral clarity.
Not when she just proved that some things are worth defending even when the defense is doomed to fail.
Not when I’ve seen what courage actually looks like when it refuses to accept defeat gracefully.