Friday
The email arrives at 4:47 p.m.
Not even five minutes before I'm supposed to clock out.
Subject: Meeting – Immediate
My stomach tightens as I stare at the screen. Everyone else on the marketing floor is already packing up—heels clicking, chairs scraping, the low hum of relief that comes with the end of the week. I tell myself it's nothing. Maybe a last-minute client revision. Maybe feedback on the campaign I stayed up until two in the morning finishing.
I smooth my skirt, square my shoulders, and walk toward the executive wing.
The air changes there. Quieter. Colder. More expensive.
I knock once before the door opens.
Elliot Blackwood doesn't tell me to come in. He just looks at me—sharp gray eyes, perfectly tailored suit, expression carved from stone—and gestures with two fingers.
Sit.
I've worked under him for eighteen months. In that time, I've seen him smile exactly once. I don't remember what it was about. I just remember how unsettling it felt, like watching a statue come alive.
"Ms. Carter," he says, folding his hands on the desk. "This won't take long."
Those are never good words.
I sit anyway, my pulse loud in my ears. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes." He doesn't glance at the screen, doesn't shuffle papers. He already knows what he's about to do. "Your position is being terminated. Effective immediately."
The words land, clean and brutal.
"I—sorry?" I blink. "There must be a mistake. My last performance review—"
"Was adequate," he interrupts. Not unkindly. Not kindly either. "But the company is restructuring. Your role is no longer necessary."
My hands curl in my lap. "You're letting me go? On a Friday?"
"That is standard procedure."
"For who?" The question slips out before I can stop it. "I've worked late. I've covered three people's workloads since January. I brought in the Kline account."
"Yes." His gaze doesn't waver. "And you were compensated accordingly."
Barely.
I swallow. "This job pays my rent."
He studies me for a moment, as if that fact is interesting but irrelevant. "You'll receive two weeks' severance."
Two weeks. I do the math automatically. It's not enough. Not even close.
"Is there… anything I can do?" I hate how small my voice sounds.
"No."
The finality in that single word tells me the meeting really is over.
I stand on legs that feel unsteady. "Then I suppose this is goodbye."
He inclines his head a fraction. "Human Resources will handle the rest."
I walk out without crying. I don't cry in the elevator. I don't cry until I'm on the sidewalk outside the glass tower, the city rushing around me like nothing in my world has just collapsed.
That's when my phone buzzes.
Unknown Number: Notice of lease termination attached.
My breath catches.
I open the attachment with trembling fingers.
Property has changed ownership. Tenants are required to vacate within thirty days unless otherwise notified.
Thirty days.
I laugh once, a sharp, broken sound, because of course. Of course this would happen on the same day.
I look up at the building across the street—the one I've lived in for four years. Brick, old, familiar. Home.
I don't know yet who bought it.
I don't know yet that the man who just fired me now owns the roof over my head.
And I definitely don't know that by Monday morning, my life will no longer be mine.