Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
But Mrs. Wexler’s expression had already calcified into something close to contempt. She’d made up her mind. Nothing I said would change it.
“I think I’ll just go,” I said, forcing my voice into polite detachment as I rose from my chair. I refused to let her see how much this hurt. The situation was humiliating enough without adding tears to the mix.
She didn’t argue. Didn’t even stand.
I kept my head held high as I walked out and headed for the elevators. One opened the moment I pressed the call button—the first scrap of luck I’d had all day—and I was grateful, because standing there waiting, exposed and raw, would have broken me.
The elevator was empty. I let myself sag against the back wall, shoulders slumping, head bowing as the car descended toward the lobby. The weight of it all pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.
For the first time, a treacherous thought slithered through my mind: What if I had just played along with Mr. Hull?
He’d asked me to dig up information on his colleagues—their mistakes, their weaknesses, anything he could use against them. He wanted ammunition to make others look incompetent so he could swoop in as the hero. When I realized what he was doing, he’d tried to recruit me as his accomplice. You’re my assistant, he’d said, as if that meant I owed him my soul. This is how the game is played.
I’d refused to be his accomplice. Flat out, no room for negotiation, refused.
As far as I was concerned, helping him tear down innocent people wasn’t part of my job description. More than that, it was wrong. I didn’t want any part of a toxic environment built on backstabbing and sabotage.
Look where that refusal to compromise my morals had gotten me, I thought bitterly. Six months of unemployment and a savings account that was bleeding out with every passing week. If I’d just kept my head down, just done what he asked…I’d still have a job. I’d still have my independence. I wouldn’t be standing in an elevator, fighting back tears after another interview imploded before it even began.
No. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I’d helped that man destroy other people’s careers just so he could climb higher. That wasn’t who I was or ever would be.
Some lines couldn’t be crossed, no matter the cost. Even if that cost was struggling to find decent work until Mr. Hull finally got tired of ruining my life.
I drove to my mother’s house afterward since she’d invited me over for dinner, grateful that it would be just the two of us. But when I pulled onto our street, not only was her car in the driveway, I spotted both of my brothers’ vehicles parked out front too.
I pulled in behind Mom’s sedan, and I thumped my forehead against the steering wheel as I slumped forward. A groan escaped me, low and defeated.
I loved my family. I truly did. But they all had their lives together in ways that made my situation feel even more pathetic by comparison. Now I’d have to face all of them and pretend I was fine with being unemployed and directionless.
What a miserable day.
When I opened the front door, laughter spilled out to greet me, followed by the familiar chaos of the people I loved talking over each other. The TV murmured in the background—the news, from the sound of it, though no one was watching.
I stepped into the living room and took in the scene. Mom sat in her favorite armchair, and my brother Kurt leaned against the wall near the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand. And on the couch, my other brother Miles sat with his girlfriend, Hazel, tucked against his side. They’d been together for four years now, and I thought of her as family just as much as my actual blood relatives.
Hazel noticed me first, lingering in the doorway like I wasn’t sure I belonged.
“Hey, Raina,” she said with the warm, camera-ready smile that served her well as a journalist on a national network.
Everyone turned to look at me. I managed a smile that I hoped looked more convincing than it felt. “I didn’t know everyone was coming over today.”
“I invited them for dinner, too,” Mom said. “Chili’s in the crock pot.”
That explained the rich, savory aroma drifting from the kitchen.
“So,” Kurt said, not wasting a second, “how did the interview go?”
I hadn’t even made it fully into the room before the question was thrown at me. But I understood. Everyone here cared about me. They wanted me to find a job because they knew how stressed and miserable I’d been since losing the last one.
Both of my brothers had offered me money—multiple times, separately—to help me get by. I’d refused every time. I didn’t want to be a burden, and I hadn’t gotten that desperate. Yet.