Chapter 4 - The Numbers Lie
The prototype review began with twelve executives and ended with one question: could Second Life make money?
Naomi stood beside the table, explaining the replaceable components while Marcus Pike projected a sales forecast onto the wall. His chart showed a narrow profit margin, high labor costs, and a warning in red: Brand dilution risk.
“The concept is admirable,” Marcus said, “but admiration does not pay for distribution.”
“The forecast uses premium shipping rates,” Priya said. “If we distribute through regional partners, the margin improves.”
Marcus looked at her. “Regional partners create inconsistency.”
“So does selling a product designed for repair,” Harold Venn added. “Every replacement part is a reminder that the original product failed.”
Naomi touched the table’s edge. “Repair is not failure. It is the reason the product remains useful.”
Weston sat at the end of the table, listening. He had promised not to interfere, and he kept that promise. The silence made Naomi more nervous than his defense would have.
“We need a limited launch,” Naomi said. “Five hundred units, two cities, direct customer feedback.”
Marcus clicked to the next slide. “We already ran a customer survey. Interest was weak.”
Priya frowned. “When did we run a survey?”
“Last month.”
“Which panel?”
“The standard Ashford panel.”
Priya opened her laptop. “That panel was recruited for the luxury dining line. It does not represent the intended customer.”
Marcus’s smile vanished. “You’re challenging the analysis?”
“I’m challenging the sample.”
Weston finally spoke. “Show me the data.”
Marcus hesitated, then brought up a spreadsheet. Naomi watched Priya compare the figures. The survey contained three hundred responses, but the demographic column was blank. The cost forecast included an unusual vendor charge labeled Cedar Vale Logistics.
Naomi recognized the name. It appeared on a stack of invoices she had found in the warehouse office, each one charging Ashford for materials that never arrived.
“What is Cedar Vale?” she asked.
Marcus closed the file. “A transportation vendor.”
“Why are they on a product forecast?”
“Because transportation is part of a product forecast.”
“They billed forty thousand dollars for a shipment of reclaimed oak.”
“Do you have a concern?”
“The shipment was never received.”
The room tightened.
Marcus turned to Luis, who had been invited to explain manufacturing. “Is that true?”
Luis looked at Naomi, then at the executives. “No oak arrived from Cedar Vale.”
“Maybe it arrived at another facility,” Marcus said.
“Not according to receiving records,” Priya replied.
Harold pushed back his chair. “This is not the purpose of the meeting.”
“It becomes the purpose when the forecast depends on false costs,” Naomi said.
Marcus’s eyes hardened. “Careful. You are a temporary employee making accusations about a senior officer.”
Naomi felt the power difference like a hand around her throat. She could withdraw, apologize, and protect the job she had barely begun. She could also remember the people in the workshop who had quietly told her the company lost money in places no one inspected.
“I’m asking for documentation,” she said. “That is not an accusation.”
Weston looked at Marcus. “Provide it to Priya by the end of the day.”
Marcus glanced at him. “I’m not sure that is necessary.”
“I am.”
The meeting ended without approval. In the hallway, Ava caught up with Naomi.
“You made an enemy,” Ava said.
“I thought I made a request.”
“At Ashford, those can be the same thing.”
“Do you know about Cedar Vale?”
“I know the name.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Ava’s expression was tired rather than defensive. “There are hundreds of vendors. Finance reviews them according to risk, volume, and history.”
“And Cedar Vale?”
“Cedar Vale has history.”
“What kind?”
Before Ava could answer, Weston approached. “Ava, I need the archived vendor files.”
She looked at him. “All of them?”
“Cedar Vale, specifically.”
“That file is restricted.”
“I’m the owner.”
“That has never stopped you from needing permission.”
Weston’s jaw tightened. “Permission from whom?”
“The board’s audit committee.”
The answer unsettled him. Naomi saw it before he hid it.
That night, Naomi returned to the workshop and found the table scratched across its surface. The damage was deliberate. Someone had carved three words into the wood: Know your place.
Theo swore. Priya reached for her phone. Celeste simply ran her fingers over the mark.
“We can repair it,” Naomi said.
“That is not the point,” Theo replied.
“It is exactly the point.”
She sanded until the carved letters disappeared. The scar remained, a pale line in the dark wood. Naomi decided not to hide it. She filled the groove with gold resin and polished the surface until the damage became a deliberate detail.
When Weston saw it the next morning, he stood over the table for a long time.
“Who did this?” he asked.
“Someone who thinks the truth can be sanded away.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the answer I have.”
Weston looked toward the security cameras. “I’ll find out.”
Naomi met his eyes. “Find out about the scratch. But don’t forget the invoices.”
“I haven’t.”
May you like
The table went into production review that afternoon. Cedar Vale remained unexplained, and the person who damaged the prototype remained unseen. But Second Life had survived its first attack, and Naomi had begun to understand that the hardest part of building something new was not making people believe in it.
It was discovering what they were willing to destroy to keep the old world standing.
