Chapter 3

By the time I got back to our apartment, I was completely drained. Zachary had promised to pick me up, but he'd been called away on an unexpected business trip. The dinner he'd promised never happened.

Chloe Hale, my college roommate and current housemate, noticed how miserable I looked.

"What's wrong? Didn't you have a good time at the wedding?"

I told her everything. Her eyes widened.

"How could she treat you like that?"

I didn't know either. I let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm exhausted. I just want to sleep."

Chloe nodded. The next morning, I woke up to find breakfast waiting on the kitchen table, along with a handwritten note.

"Cheer up. I'm off to work. Don't forget to eat."

I finished every bite, took a picture to thank her, and got ready for work. I'd only taken two days off. My manager had even reminded me that I was one of the company's key employees and couldn't afford to be away for too long.

So I headed straight to the office.

When I walked into the conference room, I noticed Mrs. Harper, the company's chairwoman, sitting at the head of the table. She rarely attended regular meetings. I smiled and nodded at her.

She returned the greeting.

But just as I sat down, her expression changed completely. She slammed her hand against the table, pointed straight at me, and shouted.

"You! Get out of my company! You're fired!"

I stared at her, completely stunned. It was almost exactly what had happened at Wendy's wedding the day before.

"Why? Is there a problem with the project?"

Mrs. Harper shook her head. "The project is progressing perfectly."

"Is this because I took time off?"

"Mr. Carter approved your leave. Everything was handled properly."

"Then why are you firing me? I haven't done anything wrong."

"Sylvia, I'm the chairwoman. If I say you're fired, you're fired. Go to HR and complete your exit paperwork. I want you out of this building in five minutes."

Mr. Carter stepped in to calm her down. Then he pointed toward the door.

"Just leave. If you upset the chairwoman any further and something happens to her, your severance won't even begin to cover the damages."

I left the conference room.

As I walked through the office, I overheard two coworkers talking nearby.

"I knew she'd get fired."

I turned toward them and hurried over.

"Why? How did you know I'd be fired?"

One of them answered without hesitation. "Because you're a slut."

A slut. That word again. Wendy had called me that yesterday. Mark had called me that, too.

I glanced at my reflection in the glass door. Tailored trousers, sensible flats, simple makeup. Nothing flashy or inappropriate.

I turned back to my coworkers.

"Who told you? How did you know before I did?"

They stepped away from me, looking at me with open disgust. One of them turned to the security guards hurrying toward us.

"Get her out of here!"

Once again, I was being forced out of a building. But this time, I didn't just stand there asking why.

I had a question that had an answer somewhere in this office: who knew I was going to be fired before I walked into that conference room?