Alexander didn’t laugh. “You’ve worked here six years,” he said coolly. “And I don’t know your last name. Now you interrupt the worst crisis in company history with your child?”
Rosa lowered her head, tears forming.
“Mom, it’s okay.”
Lucas stepped forward. He wasn’t looking at them. He was staring at the screen.
“You’re focusing on the wrong variable,” he said calmly. “It’s not capacity—it’s sequencing. The bottleneck is in distribution flow.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Alexander’s voice dropped. “What did you say?”
“I can fix it,” Lucas replied. “I can solve it.”
Alexander laughed harshly. “Wonderful. The janitor’s kid is our savior.”
The board laughed too.
Lucas didn’t.
“Test me.”
The laughter faded.
Alexander saw humiliation as entertainment. “If you solve it right now, I’ll triple your mother’s salary. Office job. Benefits. Full contract.”
Rosa gasped.
“But if you fail, she’s fired. And I’ll make sure she never works in this city again. Deal?”
Rosa collapsed, pleading. Lucas gently squeezed her shoulder and stepped forward, taking the digital marker.
He closed his eyes briefly.