The Merger

The coffee in my hand has gone cold, but I keep gripping the mug like it's the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. The numbers on my laptop screen haven't changed in the last ten minutes, no matter how many times I've refreshed the page or squinted at the monitor hoping I misread something.

But there's no mistake.

ElevateHR is officially broke.

Five years. Five years of sixteen-hour days, sleepless nights, and believing I could change the world one employee wellness program at a time. Five years of proving every doubter wrong, of building something from absolutely nothing, of turning a crazy idea born in my cramped studio apartment into a company that Forbes called "revolutionary."

And now it's all falling apart because of numbers on a spreadsheet.

I lean back in my ergonomic chair-one of the few splurges I allowed myself when we finally had real revenue-and stare at the motivational poster Elena hung above my desk last year. "She believed she could, so she did." The irony isn't lost on me.

My phone buzzes with a text from my sister Maya: *Still on for dinner tonight? Mom's making her famous mac and cheese.*

I start to type back that I'll be there, then remember what tonight actually is. The investor meeting. The come-to-Jesus conversation about ElevateHR's future. The moment where everything I've worked for either gets saved or gets flushed down the toilet.

*Rain check?* I text back. *Work crisis.*

Her response is immediate: *There's always a work crisis with you. Don't make me send the Mom guilt.*

Despite everything, I smile. Maya's threat of involving our mother isn't idle-Delores Williams has perfected the art of the guilt trip over thirty years of raising two stubborn daughters.

"Kaia?" My business partner Elena pokes her head into my office, her usually perfect makeup smudged with stress. Dark circles under her eyes suggest she's been sleeping about as well as I have this week, which is to say, not at all.

I glance at the clock. 2 PM. Right on time for what's about to be the most humiliating hour of my professional life.

"How do I look?" I ask, standing and smoothing down my navy blazer. It's my power outfit-the one I wore when we landed our first major client, when we presented to the board, when Forbes interviewed me for their "30 Under 30" list two years ago. Back when people talked about ElevateHR like we were the next big thing instead of just another startup that couldn't figure out how to stay afloat.

Elena forces a smile, but I can see the worry in her dark eyes. "Like a woman who's about to save her company."

If only I felt half as confident as she's trying to sound.

We walk together down the hallway of our converted warehouse space in South Lake Union. I remember when we first toured this building three years ago-Elena and I wandering through the empty industrial space, dreaming about the open floor plan we'd create, the collaborative workspaces, the meditation room we'd install for employee wellness. Everything about this place was supposed to represent our values: creativity, authenticity, caring about people over profit.

Now, as I pass the meditation room that doubles as storage space and the collaborative workspaces filled with employees who don't know their jobs might not exist next month, it all feels like a monument to my own naivety.

The conference room feels smaller than usual with five stone-faced investors crowding around our reclaimed wood table. Three years ago, this same table hosted celebration dinners and champagne toasts. We'd sit here until midnight, planning our next product launch, talking about expanding to international markets, believing we were building something that would last forever.