The creative floor was buzzing with low chatter and design tweaks, but tension lingered in the air. Everyone had been waiting to hear how the Lumière Montclair pitch had gone. Mockups were still open. Mood boards hovered on screens, untouched since Zoe had rushed out for the final meeting.
The glass doors swung open—
Zoe stepped in.
Slumped shoulders. Flat expression. Hair slightly tousled. No clipboard. No smile.
She dropped her bag onto her desk with a quiet thud.
The team froze.
"Zoe?" Noah asked, tentative. "How'd it go?"
Zoe didn't answer right away. She let the silence stretch, dragging herself toward her seat like a soldier returning from battle.
Noah stood up halfway. "Wait—don't tell me. They hated it?"
Zoe let out a long sigh. "It was... a lot."
"Oh my god," someone whispered. "Did they walk out?"
"I knew the serif font was too risky—"
Zoe turned around slowly, her expression completely serious. "They signed the deal."
Beat.
The team blinked.
Noah squinted. "Wait... what?"
"They signed the deal," Zoe repeated. Then added, cool and casual:
"Multi-million dollar contract. Locked. In."
Chaos.
"ZOE WHAT THE—"
"YOU—ARE—THE—WORST—"
"I ALMOST CRIED."
"I DID CRY."
"YOU MONSTER."
Jenny launched a stress ball at her head. "You manipulative genius. I love you."
Zoe burst into laughter, hands raised in surrender. "Sorry! I couldn't help it. I had to—your faces were perfect."
Steven flung open a drawer and pulled out a sparkling cider bottle someone had stashed "for emergencies." "This qualifies!"
The team swarmed her, cheering, hugging, high-fiving like the floor had turned into a championship locker room.
Zoe grinned, overwhelmed by the joy in the room. "You guys crushed it. Every single one of you. This win? It's ours. You fought for every detail. Every last-minute revision. This pitch sang because of you."
The team was still riding the high when the door opened again.
And suddenly, everything went quiet.
Stacy Holloway stepped inside.
Cool. Composed. A slight edge of exhaustion softened by something unreadable in her eyes.
The room fell into a kind of reverent silence.
"I heard there's a celebration happening without me?" she said lightly, crossing the room.
A few awkward chuckles. Noah mouthed oh god to Jenny.
Stacy looked at the group, then directly at Zoe.
"I just wanted to say congratulations," she continued "That was one of the strongest brand pitches I've ever witnessed. We didn't just sell a vision—we redefined one. We didn't just land the deal... we elevated Lumière Montclair. And that's all because of your hard work."
Then she turned to Zoe again, holding her gaze.
"And Zoe—your leadership, your vision, your clarity—it was... exceptional. I'm proud to have had you at the front of this."
Zoe blinked, words catching in her throat. "...Thank you..." A gentle flush rose to her cheeks, a quiet reminder of the hug they had shared earlier—tender and fleeting—leaving her feeling both shy and painfully aware of the space now stretching between them.
Before the moment got too sentimental, Noah jumped in.
"Well then—it's only right we invite the woman of the hour to celebrate with us!"
Jenny grinned. "Come party with the peasants!"
"Drinks, dancing, no pitch decks!" Steven yelled from the back.
Stacy raised a brow, amused. "That sounds dangerously unregulated."
Noah grinned. "So... you in?"
A pause. A smirk.
"...Why not?"
The team exploded again.
"I never thought I'd see this day!"
"Someone gets Ms. Holloway a martini and make it expensive!"
"We're celebrating a legacy and a miracle!"
Zoe couldn't stop smiling. And for the first time in a long time, she saw it—the spark. Not just in the team. But in Stacy.
Something cracked open.
And maybe... just maybe... it wouldn't close again.