“She doesn’t need to be,” I say.
“That’s not enough,” he replies.
“It is if it works,” I counter.
Silence follows, but it isn’t agreement.
It’s pressure.
“You’re changing structure,” Vihl says, not as a challenge, but as confirmation.
“Yes,” I reply.
“You’re going to get pushback,” he says.
“I already have it,” I answer.
That earns a faint shift from him, something closer to acknowledgment than approval.
“She made a call,” one of the crew says. “You backed it.”
“Yes.”
“And if she’s wrong next time,” he asks.
“Then we adjust,” I reply.
“That’s not how we operate,” he says.
“It is if we want to keep winning,” I say.
That lands harder than anything else.
Because it reframes the argument.
Not about her.
Not about me.
About results.
“And if this makes us look weak,” someone adds.
I let out a slow breath, then step forward, closing the distance just enough to shift the dynamic physically as well as verbally.
“Did we lose anything,” I ask.
No one answers.
“Did we take damage,” I continue.
Silence.
“Did we get paid,” I ask.
“Yes,” someone says, reluctant.
“Then explain to me how that’s weak,” I say.
