It rang again.
You ignored it.
On the third call, a voicemail appeared.
You pressed play.
Alejandro’s voice filled your kitchen.
“Sofia. Please. Whatever happened yesterday, I need you to call me back. The board is asking questions. Kira is threatening to walk. Morrison’s team says they will sue. The Seoul partnership is frozen. I need to understand what Lucia told you. Call me.”
You took a bite of toast.
Chewed.
Swallowed.
Deleted the voicemail.
Then you poured more coffee.
At 10:42 a.m., someone knocked on your apartment door.
You froze.
Another knock.
“Sofia? It’s Nina.”
You exhaled.
Nina Brooks, your best friend and former roommate, stood outside wearing leggings, a messy bun, and the expression of a woman who had arrived with gossip, concern, and possibly snacks.
You opened the door.
She walked in carrying two paper bags.
“I brought bagels,” she said. “And emotional support cream cheese.”
You stepped aside.
“How did you know?”
“Girl, the entire company knows. Also, Derek from legal called my cousin, who called me, because apparently your CEO is acting like someone removed the engine from his private jet midair.”
You closed the door.
Nina placed the bags on your kitchen counter and turned to look at you.
“Tell me everything.”
So you did.
You told her about Lucia’s cold office. The fake performance review. The salary reduction from $12,500 a month to $730. The file you were expected to sign. The way Lucia avoided your eyes. The way you quit before your anger could turn into humiliation.
Nina listened with both hands pressed against the counter.
When you finished, she said, “I’m sorry, what?”
You nodded.
“That was my reaction too.”
“Seven hundred and thirty dollars?”
“Yes.”
