He smirked when he saw me sweeping outside his dream office tower. His fiancée laughed, called me pathetic, and he told me I didn’t belong there. What they didn’t know was that in thirty minutes, they would walk into a boardroom and learn the woman they mocked owned the entire building. By then, it was too late to take back a single word.

She hesitated. “Broker asked if ownership was joining by video.”

I smiled. “And?”

“I told him ownership prefers to assess major tenants in person.”

“Perfect.”

I ended the call and looked up at the tower.

Glass. Steel. Forty-one floors of money and posture and polished ambition.

Inside, Ethan was probably telling a room full of people that his company represented stability.

I kept sweeping.

That mattered.

People like Ethan only understand the shiny part of a building. The lobby. The skyline. The lease numbers. They never understand the labor. The maintenance. The pipes and drains and service elevators. The actual bones.

That has always been their weakness.

At 9:36, I handed the broom to Sam.

“Can you finish this side?”