I walked out of the conference room and sent my resignation letter to HR. I’d written it the night before.
Then I went down to the nurse’s station.
They’d barely finished wrapping my hand when my phone rang.
“Ms. Bennett? The doctor got called out of town this weekend. Any chance you could come in this afternoon instead?”
My hand was still throbbing.
I stared out the window at the street below.
Honestly, I was tired of all of it.
Sooner was better.
I confirmed the appointment and went back to my desk.
I barely sat down before Graham’s message came through.
[My office. Now.]
Camille wasn’t there.
Even his assistant, the only person who knew about us, was gone.
Graham looked up from his desk.
“How’s the hand?”
So he knew.
“It’s fine.”
“Still upset? I said I’d explain.”
I didn’t answer. He kept going.
“Camille’s a Sutton. She’s not here to actually work. She’s playing career woman. She’ll be gone in six months.”
“So she gets to play pretend, and I’m the one who pays for it?”
Graham pinched the bridge of his nose.
“The executives already know what you’re capable of. When the new branch opens in six months, I’ve put your name forward to run it.”
“In the meantime, I’ll bump your base pay to director level.”
“But the project commissions go to Camille.”
I laughed.
A pay cut dressed up as a promotion. How generous.
Even he seemed to hear how hollow that sounded. He went quiet.
“The board wouldn’t have approved you taking on a new branch while pregnant anyway.”
“Once you’re settled there and the baby comes, my mother can make the case to the rest of the family.”
“Branch manager and Mrs. Whitaker. You’d have both.”
“You’re smart, Mara. You know what’s best for you.”
I looked at him and remembered the first time we met. He’d been sitting on the interview panel and glanced up at me.
He looked exactly the same right now.
When you loved someone who held all the cards, even the smallest, most ordinary parts of a relationship became things you had to beg for.
What a waste.
Five years on the wrong person.
For the first time, I let myself ask what a real girlfriend would ask.
“Everyone says Camille’s your ex. So what happened between you two?”
He frowned, right on cue.
“How is that relevant?”
I kept going like he hadn’t said a word.
“They also say she came back to get engaged to you. Is that true?”
“Mara. Don’t push it.”
“Graham.” I stood. Looked him dead in the eye.
“My resignation’s in. Approve it.”
His jaw set.
“And where exactly are you going to go?”
“Anywhere I want. I don’t answer to you.”
He almost smiled. The cruel kind.
Then he pulled up my resignation and approved it. Right there, right in front of me.
Five years, and this was the fastest he’d ever signed off on anything I asked for.
“Done. You can go.”
He watched me, waiting for me to crack. To take it back.
I was calm. Completely calm. I gave him a calm nod.
Every inch the professional.
“Thank you, Mr. Whitaker.”
I meant it.
It was lunchtime when I got back to my desk.
I started packing.
Five years, and everything I owned fit in one box. That’s how little of myself I’d kept here.
I passed the director’s office on the way out. Camille was browsing desktop wallpapers.
She had Graham on speakerphone, complaining.
“The copier here is impossible. I literally cannot figure it out.”
“And why does everything have to run on the company network? I can’t even find a cute wallpaper.”
“Oh, and someone just asked me to eat in the cafeteria. The cafeteria, Gray. I booked a table at that Japanese place down the street. You’re coming with me, right?”
…
She really was just playing office.
If Graham wanted to play along with her that badly, he could knock himself out.