A soft knock breaks through my thoughts. Courtney steps in, polished as always, a folder in hand. “Morning. Here’s your rundown for the day—meeting with Wyndham-Hawthorne Strategy Group at eleven, an investor call at two, and your mother called twice. She said it wasn’t urgent, which means it probably is.”

She doesn’t hand me a written agenda, just a verbal rundown like she’s done since I took the reins my father held for so long.

Perhaps she thinks I’m not cut out for this job. If so, she’s right. I’ll never fill my father’s shoes. His are too polished. Too tight. And to be frank, too small for my size fourteen feet.

“Thanks.”

I pull out my phone again, thumb hovering over the screen. Still nothing from Magnolia. I place it on my desk and open my email.

Instant regret.

The inbox is a disaster. My jaw tics as I scroll through subject lines. Why do so many damn people feel the need to email me? Half of this shit could’ve been handled without looping me in.

Leilani’s been out sick the past couple of days. I hate to say it, but I miss her loud mouth and relentless sarcasm. Without her, I’m drowning in this inbox, and it’s clear how much I need her help to stay afloat.

I’m knee-deep in emails, scrolling through corporate jargon designed to confuse me. The unread count at the top of the screen climbs every time I blink, like it’s mocking me. I flag one for later, delete another, but it’s like bailing water from a sinking ship with a thimble. I’m falling behind. Like always.

I lean back in my chair with a groan, ready to give up for the third time this morning—when a soft baby coo drifts in from the hallway, followed by the lilt of a familiar voice and a quiet laugh.

My fingers freeze on the trackpad. I push away from the desk, curiosity piqued, and step into the hall.

Hallie—our sharpest marketing exec who is currently on maternity leave—stands by Courtney’s desk with a baby carrier slung on one hip and a smirk on her face that says she’s enjoying the chaos she’s brought into the office.

“Well, look at you, Sebring. You’ve got that buried-under-spreadsheets-and-bad-coffee-look down to an art.”

“That’s because I am buried. If one more email starts with per my last email, I might combust.”

She laughs, looking down as the baby lets out a soft gurgle. “Thought I’d bring Ruby in for a visit. She’s been dying to see where the magic happens.”

I raise a brow at the pink bundle nestled in the carrier. “Is this the little boss?”

“The one and only,” she says, all pride. “Figured it was time she met the people who’ll be funding her future tuition and expensive daycare.”