Page 114 of Wild Card 13

The smallest movement happened beside her. Alois's hand shifted. Just enough that his fingers brushed hers beneath the table. Just reminding her he was there.

My throat tightened unexpectedly.

Dad pushed a folder across the table. "The Director of Communications position is yours."

Bea didn't touch it. For once, she didn't have an immediate answer,which was the strangest thing that had happened all night.

"I…” she stammered.

"Take a breath, Ribeiro," Alois murmured.

She shot him a look. "I am breathing."

"No." His mouth barely moved. "You're calculating."

A laugh almost slipped out of me.

Bea looked annoyed. "I don't know if this is the right time," she finally muttered.

Dad tilted his head. "Why?"

"Because after everything tonight."

"Tonight is exactly why." The certainty in his voice ended the argument before it really started. "You earned the room before you ever had to defend your place in it."

Bea looked down at the folder. And slowly she pulled it closer.

For a second, I let myself just sit there and watch it happen. Bea accepting what everyone else in the room had already known. She belonged here. She had earned this. No explanation. No justification. No proving herself beyond the work she had already done. It was surprisingly easy to see when it was someone else.

Then my father looked at me. "And while we're discussing titles..."

No. Absolutely not.

"Dad."

He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't say anything yet."

"You have a tone."

"I have a tone?"

"You absolutely have a tone."

Sarah suddenly became very interested in her tablet.

Dad's mouth twitched. "I was only going to say I've been thinking about removing 'acting' from your job title."

All eyes darted to me and locked in with laser focus. And that was ridiculous.

Because it was just a word. Six letters. A temporary designation. A technicality.

Except suddenly it didn't feel technical at all. It felt like a door closing behind me. Or maybe opening. I wasn't sure which made me want to crawl under the table and hide.

"I was supposed to help with the transition," I whispered.

"You did."

"I was supposed to stabilize operations."