Victoria closes the laptop, puts her head in her hands. He tested her and she failed. She didn’t just fail. She failed spectacularly publicly with witnesses recording. Her phone buzzes. Not Darien. A text from her PR person. Bloomberg is calling. They want to comment on the incident.
What should I tell them? Victoria doesn’t respond. At 8:00, she tries calling Darien again. The line doesn’t even ring this time. Straight to voicemail. He blocked her number. She tries emailing from her personal account. Mr. Cole, I understand if you never want to speak to me again, but I’m begging you to consider the 3,000 employees at Ashford Technologies who have nothing to do with my terrible judgment. Please. No response.
At 10, she’s still in her office. The janitor knocks, asks if she’s working late. She waves him away. At 11:00, she finally goes home. She doesn’t sleep. At 2:00 in the morning, she’s on her laptop reading everything she can find about Darien Cole.
His background, his mother worked three jobs, his scholarship to MIT, the companies he’s built, the founders he’s mentored. There’s a video of him speaking at a conference for black entrepreneurs. He’s wearing jeans and a Stanford hoodie. He looks relaxed, happy. The system wants you to play by rules that weren’t written for you. He says in the video, “Sometimes the most radical thing you can do is just be yourself. Show up as you are.
If they respect you, great. If they don’t, you just saved yourself years of working with the wrong people.” The audience applauds. Darien smiles. Victoria closes the laptop. She sits in the dark of her Pacific Heights home, surrounded by expensive furniture and art she barely looks at. She ruined everything. Not because she made a mistake, because she revealed exactly who she is.
And Darien Cole saw it clearly. Day two, 7 in the morning. Victoria stands in the lobby of Cole Ventures headquarters in Manhattan. She’s wearing yesterday’s cream Chanel suit. It’s wrinkled. There’s a coffee stain on the sleeve. She couldn’t get out in the airplane bathroom. The red eye from San Francisco was 6 hours of staring at the seat in front of her.
No sleep, just the flight tracker counting down miles. Cole Ventures is 40 stories of glass and steel. The lobby has white marble floors that echo every footstep. Modern art hangs on pristine walls. The receptionist desk looks like it cost more than most cars. Victoria approaches. The receptionist is young, professional, with a name tag that reads Lisa. Good morning.
I need to see Darien Cole. Lisa’s fingers pause over her keyboard. Do you have an appointment? No, but it’s urgent. I’m Victoria Ashford. I’m sorry, Miss Ashford. Mr. Cole only sees people by appointment. Please just tell him I’m here. 5 minutes. That’s all I need. Lisa looks uncomfortable. She picks up her phone, speaks quietly. Victoria can’t hear the words, but Lisa glances at her twice.
Lisa hangs up. I’m sorry. Mr. Cole is in meetings all day. Victoria’s stomach drops. I’ll wait, ma’am. He could be in meetings until 6:00 or 7. I’ll wait. Lisa hesitates, then nods. There are chairs by the window. 9 in the morning. The chairs are expensive and uncomfortable. Victoria sits anyway. 9:45. Employees pass by. Some glance at her.
Some do double takes. She knows they recognize her. 10:30. Lisa brings coffee. Are you sure you want to keep waiting? I’m sure. 11. Victoria’s back aches. She checks her phone. 42 missed calls, 37 emails. She ignores them all. Noon. She orders flowers from across the street. Expensive roses. She writes on hotel stationary.
Mister Cole, I made a terrible mistake. I judged you before knowing you. Please give me 15 minutes to apologize in person. Victoria. She gives them to Lisa. Can you send these up? I’ll make sure he gets them. 12:30. Every time the elevator opens, Victoria’s heart jumps. Every time it’s not Darion, she sinks lower. 1:00. Employees return from lunch laughing. They see Victoria. The laughter stops.
They whisper as they pass. She’s becoming a story. The CEO sitting in a lobby for 4 and 1/2 hours. 1:45. Lisa approaches again. Ms. Ashford. Mr. Nicole appreciates the flowers, but he’s not available today. Please. Victoria’s voice cracks. Please ask again. Tell him I flew from San Francisco. Tell him I’m not leaving until he gives me 5 minutes.
