She paced around the office with a tense, obscure expression. Her steps were agitated, betraying the impatience and anxiety she felt as she waited for news about the latest mission. As she moved, a memory surfaced, unbidden:
*Flashback*
"You've failed me again," her father's voice boomed, filling his opulent office.
She stood before his desk, fists clenched at her sides. "I didn't fail. The intel was outdated. By the time I arrived—"
"Excuses!" he interrupted, slamming his hand on the desk. "A true leader adapts, overcomes. You should have found a way."
"How? The shipment was already gone, the warehouse empty. There was nothing left to—"
Her father's cold laugh cut her off. "Nothing left? There's always something, if you know where to look. Your problem, my dear, is that you don't think like a winner. You think like a failure."
The words stung, but she held her ground. "Maybe if you'd sent me sooner—"