He Cut My Pay in Half. I Called It Perfect Timing.

His pen stopped tapping. Just stopped. "What does that mean?"

I stood and smoothed the sleeve of my blazer. "It means the timing works for me."

His eyes sharpened, finally trying to read me instead of manage me. But Gregory had spent years mistaking my calm for obedience. He straightened the papers beside his laptop. "I'm glad you understand the situation."

"I do."

I reached the door when he added, in that fake reasonable tone people use right before they do something cruel, "We all have to make adjustments sometimes."

I almost laughed, because he still thought this was a lesson. He still thought I'd go back to my office, cry quietly, and keep the machine running for half the money.

The hallway felt colder than his office. Phones were ringing. A printer spat out color proofs near the creative wing. Emily glanced up from her desk and read something in my face she didn't understand yet.

I went into my office, closed the glass door, sat down without taking off my coat. For a few seconds I listened to the keyboards outside, the buzz of my monitor waking, a Teams notification I ignored. Then I opened my inbox. Victoria's last email sat there waiting. Let me know when you've made your decision.

I clicked it open. Partnership. Equity. Control over my own accounts. A future Gregory had just paid me, in full, to accept.

Across the floor, through two panes of glass, his office door sat half-open. He was already on the phone, talking too loud, still convinced the floor beneath him would keep moving exactly the way it had that morning. He had no idea the person holding half the client trust in that building had just stopped pretending.

I placed my fingers on the keyboard and typed one sentence into Victoria's email. I'm ready to discuss terms.

Before I could hit send, my office door opened without a knock.

Gregory was standing there. His eyes dropped to my screen. His smile was gone.