I knew my card was fine. I watched Julian’s face as it happened, and I understood: he had wanted it to happen. A declined card, a flustered wife — a little theater to show everyone how little I belonged in that room.
I kept my hands folded. I did not cry. I had survived worse than embarrassment.
And then the room shifted. Arthur Vance, the chairman of NovaMind, walked in. Julian shot to his feet, hand extended, smile blazing. Vance walked straight past the handshake, came to my side of the table, and said my name.