“Sadie, seriously. You’ve got this. You’ve earned that promotion three times over, and it’s going to be yours.” Harley flashes me a calm smile and a thumbs-up. “You look beautiful, but more important, you know your shit, inside and out.” Harley rarely swears, so she must really mean it, and her words give me a much-needed boost.

Gemma moves the phone closer to her face so her eyes dominate my screen. “You got this in the bag, bitch.” She lowers her voice on her term of endearment, then anxiously checks to make sure no little ears heard her utter a grown-up word, though lord knows her middle schoolers have heard way worse. And probably said way worse.

“Text us as soon as it’s official.” Harley gives me a through-the-screen high five.

“You’re so buying drinks this weekend.” Gemma shoots me a finger gun.

“Love you guys.” I blow both a kiss and hang up after their chorus of “I love you too.”

Badass-bitch mask firmly in place and bolstered by my friends’ confidence in me, I resume my superhero pose, this time tilting my head up and thrusting my chest out for the full effect, both hands firmly planted on my waist. I’ve never been more thankful to have zero windows in my office.

After sixty seconds of power posing, I peek in the mirror I keep hidden in my desk drawer. I adjust my gray pin-striped pencil skirt and fluff the sleeves of my white silk shirt. “You got this,” I tell my reflection before stuffing the mirror back in its hiding space. “I got this,” I repeat to my air plant. After one last deep breath, I put on my work face—one slight step up from resting bitch face. A face that says, I know what I’m doing but I’m also totally approachable! A woman-at-work-in-finance face.

My phone dings with a text as I pull open my office door.

NICK: Show those motherfuckers who’s boss, baby!

Oh, I plan to.

I full-on strut down the hallway of the high-rise building, making my way toward the conference room.

I am an accounting badass. I make spreadsheets my bitch. I’m going to kick this promotion’s ass.

The mantra runs on repeat through my mind as I stride through the open conference room door. Most of the team is already here, lounging in high-backed rolly chairs around a long glass-topped table.

I slip into a seat next to my best work friend, Veronica. Other than Veronica and myself, there’s only one other woman in the room, my supervisor and mentor, Margo. She hired me right out of college and has guided me through the ranks of the financial analyst world ever since. I give her a small smile, but she doesn’t meet my eyes. Shit. My stomach goes for a ride on the Tilt-a-Whirl.