Sophia's POV
The conference room on the forty-second floor was already filling with investors when I arrived.
I'd spent the past week preparing for this moment. Every slide memorized. Every potential question anticipated. Every piece of data committed to memory.
This is it. Don't mess this up.
I smoothed down my navy Chanel suit and approached the presentation area, my heels clicking against the polished marble floor. The sample cases I'd prepared yesterday should already be set up on the display table—
I stopped short.
What the hell?
"Mrs. Romano?" A young assistant hurried over, her face pale. "There's been some kind of mix-up with the samples."
"What do you mean, mix-up?"
She gestured helplessly toward the display table. "These aren't the Alzheimer's drug samples you requested.
