Chapter 2

"Just sign it, Nora."

Brenda, the HR manager, slid the severance agreement across the table, tapping her manicured fingernail against the line under "Reason for Separation": Voluntary Resignation.

I glanced toward the glass door of the office.

My department manager, Richard, was leaning against the frame, arms crossed, wearing a smug look that said, "Don’t make this harder than it has to be."

"Brenda," I said, sliding the agreement back. "My performance review last quarter was an A. It’s been straight A’s for eight years. If the company is restructuring, I need a legitimate explanation."

Brenda smiled.

It was that fake, pitying corporate smile she always wore right before she axed someone.

"Nora, you’re thirty, right?"

"I’m three months away from thirty."

"So, thirty," she said, leaning back in her ergonomic chair. "The company is rebranding to target a younger demographic.

An unmarried woman entering her thirties is a liability—always on the verge of taking maternity leave or getting distracted by family planning. Who’s going to run your projects when you suddenly leave?"

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Richard strolled in and took a seat opposite me. He had been with the company for fifteen years, and he loved tapping his fingers on the desk to show his authority.

"Nora, look at it from our perspective," Richard said. "There are eight people in our department, and you’re the only one who’s single. If you had a boyfriend, at least we'd know you're settled. But you don't even date. How can the company rely on you for long-term projects?"

I stared at him, cold and silent.

Fidgeting under my gaze, Richard cleared his throat. "I mean, I'm not rushing you to get married. But your situation... it’s just not stable."

"So," I said slowly, "because I don't have a partner, I'm being downsized?"

Brenda chimed in quickly, "That's not exactly what we're saying. But look at Chloe. She’s twenty-six, married with a kid. Super stable. Joey just got engaged and is planning his wedding for next year. They have life plans. What about you?"

She paused, lowering her voice as if she were giving me sisterly advice. "Take the money, go home, and find a good man. A woman can have a great career, but what’s the point if you’re thirty and don’t even have a family to go home to?"

I stood up.

Brenda flinched, taking a half-step back.

I grabbed the pen and signed my name on the dotted line.

"Severance, plus my three-month notice payout," I said, sliding the papers back. "According to labor laws, I am getting every single cent. If there’s even a dollar missing, I’ll see you in court with the Department of Labor."

Brenda’s face tightened, but she kept quiet.

I grabbed my bag and walked out. At the door, I turned back.

Richard was still sitting there, even finding the humor to joke, "Don't hate us, Nora. When you finally get married, let me know. I'll write you a fat check for your wedding registry."

I smiled.

"Save your money, Richard. You’re going to need it."

Before he could process my words, I pushed the door open.

On my desk, my belongings had already been swept into a cardboard box and left in the hallway. Chloe, my desk neighbor, peeked out with a complicated look in her eyes.

I didn't look back. I picked up the box and walked toward the elevator.

Inside, my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and picked up.

"Nora?" a young man's voice came through, laced with a lazy, teasing tone. "I'm back in the country. About that acquisition proposal you mentioned last time... I’ve thought about it. Want to get a drink?"

I watched the floor numbers count down.

"Sure," I said. "Actually, I have something else to discuss with you."

"Oh? What's that?"

"It's about my former employer," I said, stepping out of the elevator into the lobby. "I want to personally buy them out."

There was a second of silence on the other end, followed by a low chuckle.

"Intriguing. Let’s talk over dinner."

The line went dead.

I slid my phone into my pocket, holding my cardboard box tightly as I walked out into the bright afternoon sun.

In three months, I’d be back.