The boardroom smelled of polished wood and money.

Ava sat stiffly at the end of the long mahogany table, her palms pressed flat against her notebook to stop them from trembling. Every pair of eyes in the room was on her, sharp and assessing, as though she were a case file under review instead of a human being.

The director of HR, a severe woman named Margaret Stone, adjusted her glasses and folded her hands. “Ms. Hart, you know why we’ve called this meeting.”

“Yes,” Ava answered, her ...