Investing In Overlooked Women: I Get Cashback On Every Glow-Up

”What about the ads for the modded version?” I asked Tiana through the phone.

”We’re cutting together a high-gloss industrial promo right now,” Tiana replied. ”CGI exploded views of the shoe, heavy bass, quick cuts of the lab—”

”Cancel that,” I cut in. ”No industrial ads. No corporate spin. Keep it organic.”

Tiana paused on the screen. ”Organic?”

”Yeah,” I said. ”I want a simple, raw video. Just you, sitting in the lab, talking straight to the camera like a real founder. Tell the world the absolute truth about why May fell. Explain that her stride generates so much raw, explosive force that it literally overloaded standard sports engineering.”

May grinned beside me, loving the sound of that.

”Show them the x-rays of her toe push-off,” I continued. ”Then show them the custom spike you built overnight to handle her insane power. It builds massive trust, proves our gear is built for real performance, and hypes May up as a total beast who broke normal tech limits.”

Tiana’s eyes lit up as she caught the vision. ”That’s brilliant. Authentic founder storytelling beats a slick commercial every single time.”

”One condition,” I added firmly. ”Do not drop that video yet. Keep it locked. The exact second May steps onto the track for the final tomorrow, hit publish.”

”Got it,” Tiana nodded. ”When she walks onto the pitch, the internet gets the truth.”

The next morning, the stadium was packed to maximum capacity, buzzing with a tense, chaotic energy. Down on the track, the finalists were doing their final warm-ups under the bright stadium lights. The crowd was chanting May’s name, but whenever her face flashed on the big screen, the crowd erupted into a mix of cheers for her and loud boos for Zenith.

Peter Pear was right—even after he backed off his bot campaign, the initial seed of doubt had already taken root. The public still blamed Zenith for her fall yesterday.

The glass door of the VIP suite clicked open, and Peter walked in unannounced. He pulled up a chair across from me, looking down at the stadium with a calm, triumphant smirk.

”I told you,” Peter said softly, leaning back. ”You can turn off the bots, but you can’t erase fear. Look at them down there. They love May, but they hate your brand right now. They think you risked her career for a quick cash grab.”

I looked out over the railing, keeping my expression completely stone-cold.

”They hate us because they don’t know the truth yet,” I replied without looking back at him. ”They think our tech failed her. They don’t realize she was just too powerful for standard engineering.”

Peter let out a quiet chuckle. ”It doesn’t matter what the truth is. In five minutes, she runs. If she loses, or if she flinches because of that toe, Zenith dies today.”

Down on the track, the official announcer came over the stadium PA:

”Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the finalists for the National 100m Championship!”

May stepped out of the tunnel, wearing her updated matte-black kit with the sharp metallic-blue accents. On her feet were the hand-crafted, custom-modded Zenith spikes. She looked calm, dangerous, and completely unfazed by the noise.

She walked up to Lane 4, looked straight up at the VIP box where Peter and I were sitting, and tapped her chest twice.

I pulled out my phone and sent a single text to Tiana: Drop the video now.

Down in the lab, Tiana hit publish. Within seconds, the raw founder video explaining May’s insane force output and the overnight spike redesign flooded every major feed nationally.

The sprinters began approaching their blocks.

Down on the track, the crowd was completely confused. Murmurs and loud groans rippled through the stands as people realized May was still wearing Zenith.

”Is she crazy?” a fan shouted near the lower railing.

”Her team is risking her whole career for a sponsor!” another yelled out.

The stadium announcer’s voice echoed over the PA system, dripping with clear skepticism: ”And stepping into Lane 4, the national record holder, May... returning in that unreleased Zenith kit. Let’s hope those shoes hold up today, folks. She’s taking a massive gamble after yesterday’s nasty spill.”

Peter Pear leaned back in his leather VIP seat, swirling his drink with a smug, satisfied grin.

”Look at her,” Peter chuckled softly. ”She’s bouncing around trying to test that toe. She’s nervous. The whole stadium expects her to trip again. You lost the crowd, my friend. You can’t sell a shoe that the public is terrified of.”