Chapter 2

Saliva flew from his mouth as his finger jabbed aggressively in my direction.

"She's bringing personal vendettas into professional procurement! How can you keep someone like her on your payroll?"

The entire lobby fell dead silent.

The receptionist pressed her lips together, casting nervous, sideways glances at me.

Arthur didn't lose his temper. He looked down at the man at the base of the stairs, his tone entirely level.

"Oh, that matter."

"Chloe, come explain it to him."

Arthur tilted his head and gestured for me to step forward.

I walked down the steps, stood beside Arthur, and brought up the vendor evaluation dashboard on my iPad.

"Apex's proposal scored lower across all metrics compared to the other three bidders."

"Furthermore, their background audit raised red flags. Two of their deliverables suffered critical delays last year, triggering formal breach-of-contract notices from their clients."

Arthur nodded slowly, then looked back down at the man below.

"Did you hear that clearly?"

Austin's face flushed a furious crimson. His lips trembled, sputtering before he managed to squeeze out:

"Those were past oversight issues! We've already restructured! That's just a cheap excuse! She's the one who—"

"Sir."

Arthur cut him off cleanly.

"This is a professional workplace. Your shouting is disrupting our business operations."

He paused, his voice turning icy.

"By law, we have full grounds to press trespassing charges."

Austin froze on the spot.

His mouth quivered, but not a single sound came out.

I looked away.

The security guards took another step forward. Seeing the writing on the wall, Austin clamped his mouth shut, spun around, and stalked off.

I stood in place, watching his silhouette vanish past the street corner.

Arthur patted my shoulder gently.

"You alright?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine. Thank you, sir."

He waved it off, starting back up the stairs. After a couple of steps, he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder.

"Chloe, if it weren't for you back then, this company would have gone under a long time ago."

I stood there for a long time, rooted to the floor.

Later, I sat in my private office with the door closed.

The evening glow outside the floor-to-ceiling windows began to dim into dusk. My phone buzzed with a message from Leo on Snapchat.

*Hey, coming home for dinner tonight? I made short ribs.*

I replied *Sure*, then set the phone down.

The past came surging back like a relentless tide.

The year my brother needed the kidney transplant, I swallowed my pride and knocked on every single relative's door.

Some handed me a pittance; most slammed their doors in my face.

I dialed every contact in my phonebook, begging for loans from anyone willing to listen, even reaching out to old college roommates.

Eventually, Leo's surgery was completed. The organ rejection was stabilized, and he was cleared for discharge.

On the day he left the hospital, I had exactly forty dollars left in my bank account.

Barely enough to buy groceries for a week.

I started hunting for jobs.

I submitted over forty applications, all swallowed by the corporate void.

Back then, Arthur was launching his startup. A bare-bones outfit renting a tiny, cramped office without even a receptionist desk.

On the day of my interview, he opened the door himself, poured me a warm cup of water, and pushed it across the table.

"The pay here isn't high," he said.

"But it comes on time, every time."

"When can you start?"

I answered, "Tomorrow."

Later, when the firm hit rock bottom, there was a two-month stretch where payroll couldn't be met.

Half the staff jumped ship. The remaining handful sat at their desks, exchanging hopeless glances in dead silence.

I took on three major client projects all at once. I pitched the clients, drafted the technical roadmaps, and oversaw daily execution myself. I worked nonstop overtime for over a month, losing twelve pounds, until I finally managed to land our biggest enterprise contract.

The day the client's wire hit our account, Arthur paid all overdue wages and added a substantial bonus.

When I checked my pay stub, it was three hundred dollars more than what he had promised.

...

A sudden knock broke the silence.

"Director Vance, someone's here to see you."

Snapping out of my reverie, I checked the time.

Ten to five. Almost closing time.

"Who is it?"

"She says her last name is Miller."

I looked up.

The door cracked open slightly, and the receptionist poked her head in, looking conflicted.

"It's a woman... and she brought a little girl with her."

My heart gave a faint jolt.

A little girl ran in first.

About four or five years old, hair tied up in pigtails.

Her mother stood hesitantly by the doorway, too intimidated to step further inside.

It was her.

The single mother.