CHAPTER 310: MAKE THEM BELIEVE (3)

Georgia’s POV

I faced the long table at the front. "Chairman Knight, would you please join us on stage?"

Surprised but willing to cooperate, Benjamin Knight stood up slowly, a man whose presence alone commanded attention. His sons exchanged amused glances, while murmurs filled the hall. Several representatives and investors followed when I called their names, joining him beside the tower.

"Now," I said, handing them each a pair of gloves and small scissors, "please pick one lettuce each. Be gentle with her—she’s our firstborn batch."

The audience laughed lightly as Benjamin Knight leaned forward, carefully snipping the base of a large lettuce. The others followed, and soon the stage was alive with flashes from cameras and curious murmurs.

"Now," I said, taking a step closer, "please try it. Freshly harvested. No wash, no additives—just nature and science."

They exchanged glances before taking cautious bites. The crisp sound of snapping lettuce leaves echoed faintly through the mic.

Benjamin Knight chewed thoughtfully, then looked at me with a slow, satisfied smile.

"It’s... fresh," he said, pausing for effect. "Crispy. And surprisingly sweet. Not bitter like the ones we get from the supermarket."

A ripple of laughter and applause followed.

I turned to the others on stage. "And how about you?"

One of the investors nodded eagerly. "It tastes clean—like it was picked straight from a mountain farm."

Another woman said, "It’s incredible. The texture’s light, crunchy—definitely not what I expected from something grown on a ship."

Ella and I exchanged glances, unable to hide our smiles.

"Thank you," I said, turning back to the audience. "What you just tasted is the future of maritime sustainability. Food that doesn’t depend on ports, schedules, or distance—grown by the people who sail the world.

This means lower cost for food, transport for supplies, more nutritious food, and a balanced diet for the crew. The crew will be healthier, therefore the less they will get sick."

Applause filled the room again, louder this time—strong, genuine, thunderous.

And there, at the front of the Knight family’s table, Nick was watching me—his lips curved into that same knowing smirk from before, pride gleaming behind his gaze.

For a fleeting moment, I forgot about the crowd, the cameras, the stage lights—everything but that look.

Because in that instant, I knew—this wasn’t just a pitch.

It was the start of something much, much bigger. A continuation of the dream that I paused. A dream that at one point in my life, I thought I would never be able to see again.

Then, on my cue, the doors at the back of the conference hall swung open.

The sound of wheels against the marble floor echoed across the room as our employees from Urban Paradise Farm entered—each of them pulling sleek carts carrying more aeroponics towers, each one gleaming under the hall lights like futuristic sculptures.

Gasps filled the air. Cameras clicked. The room’s energy shifted from polite curiosity to stunned fascination.

The towers were alive—lush strawberries hanging in perfect rows, clusters of cherry tomatoes glinting red under the LEDs, tall cucumber vines curling around their frames, and even one tower bursting with flowers in full bloom, painting the white system with vibrant colors.

I felt a smile curve my lips as the murmurs grew louder.

"As you can see," I began, walking to the center of the stage with the confidence I’d built from sleepless nights and relentless preparation, "even fruits and flowers can thrive in our aeroponics towers. These systems are designed to adapt—whether for leafy greens, fruit-bearing plants, or ornamental blooms."

Ella gestured to one of the fruit towers as I continued, "Imagine your crew picking fresh strawberries, tomatoes, melons, or cucumbers right on deck. Sweet, organic, and pesticide-free—no import delays, no spoilage."

Some people in the audience chuckled softly, exchanging amazed looks.

"And for morale," I said, gesturing to the floral tower, "we can even supply flowering plants. They don’t just elevate the atmosphere onboard, they also calm the mind. Some varieties are edible—perfect for brightening up dishes, or even brewing into tea."

The display screens behind me zoomed in on Ella as she plucked a petal, dropped it into a glass, and poured hot water over it, releasing a faint floral aroma that had the crowd murmuring again.

"So, as you can see," I continued, stepping closer to the edge of the stage, "a single tower can provide enough produce to feed a crew for days, sometimes even a week. But imagine dedicating an entire room on your ship for this system..."

I paused, letting that image sink in—the hum of engines, the sway of the sea, and an oasis of green thriving in the middle of the ocean.

"...It could supply your crew with fresh vegetables and fruits all year round," I said. "And as for maintenance—our team can perform system checks whenever your ship docks at port. Simply file a service request through Knight Marine Chandlers, and we’ll be there. No stress, no downtime."

I could already see several executives nodding, whispering to one another—calculating possibilities, running numbers in their heads.

I smiled. "Now, I believe it’s time for a little fun."

A wave of laughter rolled across the room when I added, "Everyone, please stand—and help yourselves. Yes, you heard that right. Go ahead, pick the fruits and vegetables from the towers. And don’t worry—there’s more waiting outside in the hallway. Feel free to bring some home to your families, have them try it too."

For a moment, there was silence—then chaos.

The same board members and investors who moments ago sat with their arms crossed and brows furrowed were now racing to the center aisle, laughing, exclaiming, taking photos, and actually picking produce from the towers like kids on a farm visit.

Plastic bags were handed out by our staff, and suddenly, the entire hall was alive—full of laughter, chatter, and snapping cameras.

I could hardly hold back my laughter when I caught sight of Ella on the opposite side of the stage, doubled over, shaking her head in disbelief.

Even Reagan, Vicky, and Liam had to step in to manage the crowd, reminding people that there were more towers outside so no one had to push or grab.

And then, there was Benjamin Knight—still standing near the main demo tower, munching happily on fresh lettuce and strawberries, completely oblivious to the mayhem around him.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud, but then I felt a familiar warmth at my back.

Nick’s hand slid across my waist, firm but gentle, and before I could react, he pressed a soft kiss on my cheek.

"I’m so proud of you, babe," he murmured against my ear, his voice low enough to make my skin tingle. His arm wrapped around me, pulling me close as he added, "You did so well... so well that you just turned a conference hall into a war zone."

I laughed, leaning into him. "A vegetable war, that is. Plants versus Zombies, version 5.0."

He chuckled, the sound deep and soft, his breath brushing against my ear. "If this is how you start your presentations," he whispered, "I can’t wait to see how you end them."

My cheeks heated instantly—but I couldn’t stop smiling.

Because looking around the hall, at the chaos, the laughter, the excitement—I knew it wasn’t just a presentation anymore.

It was proof.

That we’d done it.

That my dream was no longer just a plan—it was alive.

******

Thank you for the Golden Ticket!

Tammy_Schrimsher_7493