Chapter 5
Five
Monday morning arrives faster than I’d like. I keep telling myself I shouldn’t be nervous. I’m not holding a press conference or giving a welcome speech at a state banquet.
But this is my first time presenting my work in front of real-life engineers. To the big boss, no less. I only get one shot at making a good first impression. And I hope I’ve done enough prep work to show that hiring me was the right call.
As I step into the conference room, my palms are damp, and my heart is thumping loudly. The room has a long table with several senior engineers already seated, speaking to one another. All the walls are made of glass except for one. It contains a projector and screen.
Anya stands next to it at the head of the table, plugging her laptop into the adapter. We’re the only women in the room, which suddenly makes the space feel ten degrees colder. Her eyes light up when she spots me, and she waves me over. “Kaori, so glad you made it. Come sit by me.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, sliding into the chair beside her and setting my tablet, notebook,, and pencil bag down, slowly unzipping it, pretending to look for a pen. Really, I’m just trying to keep my hands from trembling.
“Morning.” Leon waves.
I wave back, scrambling to make small talk. “No Derrick and Andy?”
“Those two aren’t morning people. They’ll roll in right ahead of Riverton.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Don’t worry, kiddo. You’ll be fine. Just remember to breathe.”
“I’ll try,” I mumble.
“Leon, I didn’t get your notes on Medusa’s Fury. Can you pop them into the shared folder really quick?” Anya interrupts.
“Sure, give me ten seconds.”
As everyone settles, a hush rolls across the room like someone hit mute.
At 7:58, Andy and Derrick come racing into the room and slide into the two empty chairs near Leon.
Their faces are flushed as they barely beat the clock.
And at eight on the dot, in walks the man from my interview.
I blink twice and swallow hard. This is the famous Riverton?
He’s taller in person than I realized—maybe five-ten—but he carries himself with a presence that occupies twice that space. He’s clean-shaven, and his dark, curly waves have been combed back, though a few rebellious strands still look ready to break free.
Unlike the rumpled crewneck sweater he wore during my interview, he’s dressed in a crisp three-piece charcoal suit.
It looks hot—both literally and figuratively.
The way it’s tailored to his lanky frame is perfection.
It hugs every curve, leaving just enough mystery for me to wonder what lies underneath.
Which, obviously, should be the last thing on my mind before my presentation. I quickly look away, my face heating up as I slide my notebook closer to write the date.
Leon is the only person bold enough to speak. Still slouching in his chair, he waves. “Morning, Theo. Hope you had a good trip.”
“Morning.” He grunts, dropping into the chair next to Anya.
“How was your trip?” she asks.
“Fine.” His tone is curt. No one speaks as he opens his laptop and enters his password.
Anya and Leon lock eyes. He mouths, “Grumpy butt,” to her. Anya closes her eyes and shakes her head minutely.
“I hope you lot have been productive while I was gone,” Theo says. Lifting his chin, he scans the room. A small wrinkle appears in his brow as he looks at me, as if he’s wondering, Why is the freshman sitting at the senior table?
My palms go damp again, and I school my face so it’s politely neutral. Of all the engineers in the world, it had to be him.
“Don’t worry, we were,” Leon says. “The mice didn’t play too hard while the cat was away.”
That earns a few dry laughs from the team and drops the room’s tension by a fraction.
It’s enough for Anya to lean toward me, her voice pitched low.
“Don’t let him rattle you. Theo Riverton tends to have that effect on people.
” A faint, knowing smile curves her lips.
“I wouldn’t have brought you in here today if I didn’t think you could hold your own. ”
I nod, though I’m not entirely convinced. My jaw is still tight. If our last meeting was any indication, I’m sure he’ll want to test me again.
Theo clears his throat, ignoring Leon. “Let’s get started.” His voice comes out steady and commanding, getting straight down to business. “We’ll begin with project updates. Sharma, you’re first.”
Anya stands and clicks to the second slide in her PowerPoint presentation.
“The Meadowbrook project, Quantum Leap, is moving forward on schedule. My team has been running the analyses on the propulsion concept, and I’d like to highlight some early promising results.
” Then she turns to me, giving me a small, encouraging nod. “Kaori, the floor is yours.”
Every eye turns in my direction.
Theo’s gaze settles on me too. “Let’s hear it,” he says.
Great. I’m going first. I guess it’s better to just get it over with.
I force my shoulders back and clear my throat, meeting Theo’s eyes.
“The simulations show that the Quantum Leap’s vertical-drop capsule remains well within safety margins for the projected g-forces,” I begin, my voice sounding steadier than I feel.
“I ran stress-testing models across a full range of passenger weight distributions. Even under maximum load, the structural pressure points remain stable, provided the welding tolerances meet our standard specifications.”
A few heads nod. Anya gives me a tiny, encouraging “you’ve got this” smile.
Theo studies the chart on her slide, then focuses on me. “And what about possible failure cases? Construction error, material variations. Did you model anything outside the ideal conditions?”
“Yes.” My jaw clenches. “I tested some misalignment scenarios. Even with a variance, the capsule remained stable and only failed under force levels that passengers would never realistically—”
Theo lifts a brow. “Define ‘variance.’ One millimeter? Two? Because that difference may decide whether our guests scream in delight or utter their last words.”
A flush burns up my neck. “I based the deviation off the range listed in the design specs.”
“Those specs are written for the ideal conditions,” he cuts in. “That doesn’t exist in the real world. Welders sneeze. Materials warp. Equipment malfunctions. You can’t solely trust what’s on paper. You have to stress the system until it snaps and uncover its real limits.”
My mouth goes dry. I grip my pen until my knuckles protest, brain scrambling for words that refuse to show up.
Anya steps in. “Minami’s first pass is strong. She’ll expand the range and rerun it as we advance the draft.”
Theo returns his attention to the screen. “You shouldn’t have to rerun the analysis. You know better than to assign a rookie a task beyond their depth.”
The words hit like a slap. My stomach twists. Did he really just say that in front of everyone?
He continues. “If we start lowering the standards because someone’s new, we may as well shut down the project now.”
My instinct is to bow my head and apologize for causing trouble even though I haven’t. Years of palace etiquette tug at my spine. But I bite it back and keep my expression perfectly neutral. I will not give him the satisfaction.
“Everyone starts somewhere, Theo,” Anya says, her tone hardening. “Training wheels are part of the process. You don’t rip them off in week two and hope the kid doesn’t face-plant. I know you’re exhausted from traveling, but don’t take it out on our newest team member.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, not bothering to look at Anya. “She’s your responsibility. If she slips, you answer for it. We can’t afford babysitting on a deadline.”
“She’s not here to be babysat. She’s here to learn from us and one day become a senior engineer. That requires trust and exposure, not gatekeeping.”
Anya’s right. The weight of what we design and build is for real human bodies. Mistakes aren’t theoretical anymore. I steal a glance at her. She meets my gaze with a look that reads, “Stand your ground. No one here will hand you respect—you’ll have to take it.”
I nod, curling my fingers around the arm of my chair and breathing slowly through my nose. I keep my back straight, chin up, and eyes forward.
A few people shift uncomfortably.
Leon clears his throat. “Kaori’s green, but she’s thorough. Heck, her work is even better than the stuff I usually send to you. Give her six months and she’ll be leading a section like a certain other engineer was at her age.” He winks in my direction.
Theo’s jaw flexes like he’s biting back something. He’s not used to being challenged, that much is obvious. “We’ll table this for now. We need to move on. What’s the status of the Baker project, Medusa’s Fury?”
Just like that, I’m dismissed.
The rest of the meeting blurs. The voices become muffled, and one project update blends into another. All I hear is the echo of his words, looping like a scratched record—Rookie mistakes. Babysitting. Beyond her depth.
Each one lands like a tiny punch to the gut. This one man thinks he can reduce me to a liability with a sentence? But he is so, so, so very wrong.
Let him underestimate me. I’ll dive into the math until the numbers are the only language I speak. I’ll stress test every bolt and beam until the data is bulletproof. My work will be so good that he won’t just respect me—he’ll regret ever doubting that I belonged at this table.
The meeting ends an hour later. Chairs scrape against the floor. Laptops snap shut. The room begins to empty. I grab my belongings and make a beeline for the door.
Leon falls into step beside me without a word. We walk down the hall together, my heels making a click-clack sound against the tile floor. “You okay?” he asks. “You look like you’re ready to throw water onto a wicked witch and let her melt—or in this case a certain chief engineer.”
“Yeah, I’m fine, just frustrated. I know you said not to let him to get me, but he did.”