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Emily who had known where Lorenzo was.
Emily who had known that Miranda was his daughter.
“You bought this company simply to have me fired,” she said, uncaring of the consequences. She’d already eyed the termination paperwork in the folder that Emily had removed the contract from.
“You,” Mr. Bradford said, “were in full awareness of your contract to only do marketing for Bradford, no exceptions. You are terminated.”
“And please,” Emily added, “no need to make a fuss. You are still under the clause that keeps you from going to a competitor, including yourself, for a year after your termination date.”
“I will be having security escort you out.”
“There’s no need.” Katrina stood, her coffee shaking slightly in her hand. “I can see myself out.”
“I’m afraid that I insist.” Emily stood and slid the notice of termination in front of Katrina. “There’s a place for your signature at the bottom.”
Katrina looked at the paper, then back up at Emily. “Go to hell,” was all she said, then she turned and left the office.
***
Emily had made goodon her threat to have security escort her out. As it was, all Katrina had to take with her was her purse, her personal keys, and the vase of crazy daisies from Lorenzo. There hadn’t been any personal photos or other mementos that she’d kept in her office any more than there were pictures on her walls at home.
She had no idea what she was going to do.
Sure, she had a savings account, but there wouldn’t even be a severance from Bradford since her helping Lorenzo had been her downfall.
“Fuck you, Emily,” she muttered through her tears. It angered her that there were tears, even though they’d been triggered by her anger to begin with, which resulted in more tears dripping down her cheeks as she drove to her home. “Fuck you and your overpriced jumpsuit. Fuck you and your oversized bank accounts. Fuck you and those horrid people who raised you.”
She didn’t want to break the news to Lorenzo just yet, but she couldn’t stop herself from calling her brother.
“Only got a sec, sis. What’s up?”
“Emily bought Bradford and had me fired.” She knew he’d heard her even though he’d asked her to repeat herself. “I said, Emily bought Bradford and had me fired.”
“Fuck that fucking bitch,” he muttered.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Give me thirty. I’ll be on my way.”
“We don’t need your job in jeopardy, too. Fuck, what about Judith?”
“Judith is a freelancer,” he reminder her. “Hey, you could—”
“Not for a year. A whole fucking year. By then, my clients will have forgotten about me. And no, I’m not asking Mom and Dad for money for a startup. They’ve done enough for me over the years as it is.”
“I swear...damn it, are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”
“Swing by after work. And bring wine.”
“Done.”
Once home, she slipped into a pair of yoga pants and a form fitted t-shirt, her go-to comfort clothes, and looked over her rack of movies, most of them older ones that she’d seen at least half a dozen times. She held her cellphone in her hand, turning it over a few times before she decided it was now or never.
And she dialed Lorenzo’s number.
“Hey,” he said as he answered, his voice soft, sleepy. “Did you get the flowers?”
“I did,” she replied, her eyes on the vase, its pop of color a contrast to the otherwise dull room. “Thank you.”
