Page 3 of True Colors

“Scenario C…is b-based on the Q4 vendor re-re…renego—renego⁠—”

Renegotiation is a tough word for me. Too many syllables. It’s fine to write it, but not to say it out loud.

“The v-v-vendor re…changes. The c-cost dr-drop is d-due to that.”

I wait, but the next question doesn’t come from Luther.

“Do your projections include the updated procurement agreements with Vivalis Pharma?” Erin asks.

Erin Wright came into the company two months ago. She’s the new CEO’s right-hand person and has played this role in two previous rotations within Luther’s father’s corporate empire. She’s supermodel tall, blonde, glossy, and terrifyingly confident. People listen to her even when she’s wrong.

Like now.

“N-n-n-o. It…inclu-u…it⁠—”

“For God’s sake, spit it out, will you?” Luther explodes.

I shut down. Like completely.

Loud sounds.

People yelling.

Yeah, this is not good for me.

My anxiety is already at peak and now….

“The Vivalis updates are included,” Dot intervenes.

Heat flushes through me. My boss had to save me.

“Where?” Luther flips through the document.

“Page f-f-five and—” My voice is paper-thin.

Erin cuts me off with a soft laugh. “It’s okay. Data can be overwhelming.”

“Sounds like everything is overwhelming for this analyst,” Luther mutters, his voice is low but audible.

A chuckle goes through his close circle.

The mood in the conference room shifts.

There’s an almost imperceptible collective inhale because no one likes to be talked down to, and the fact that our CEO is publicly eviscerating me, one of the best data analysts in the company, means trouble for everyone else.

Luther gestures lazily at the screen. “So, which of you is correct?”

I am.

But the words are not coming out of my mouth. Nothing is.

Erin responds, rolling her eyes. “The misalignment is minor and suggests a lack of cross-functional awareness. Nothing to get up in arms about.”

It’s a neat, elegant way to imply incompetence.

Dot straightens in her chair. “The model is correct.” Her voice is silk-wrapped steel. “If you look at the footnotes, you’ll see⁠—”

Luther lifts a hand, stopping her. “I don’t need footnotes. I need clarity.” His blue-blue eyes land on me. “If you can’t present your own numbers, maybe someone else should own them.”