Chapter 6

The next morning, I was barely through the office doors when I got summoned to the GM's office.

The General Manager—a guy in his mid-fifties—looked at me like he was about to put down a sick dog.

"Sandra, your work has always been solid. Everyone knows that. But..."

The Department Head, a guy who'd never liked me, jumped in with barely concealed glee.

"Ms. Phillips, your personal issues are affecting team morale. This isn't a soap opera. We can't have employees dragging their family drama into the workplace."

I stared him down. "My numbers are the highest in the department. I hit my KPIs this month—actually exceeded them."

"Numbers aren't everything!" He raised his voice.

"Do you have any idea how much gossip is flying around because of your situation? Our biggest client wants to switch account managers. How are we supposed to explain that to the board?"

The GM sighed, finally dropping the hammer.

"Sandra... Phillips Industries pulled their funding yesterday afternoon. That major project you were leading? It's dead."

My blood went cold.

"Phillips Industries?"

My dad's company. The one he built from the ground up. The one he still held a massive stake in even after retirement.

The Department Head smirked. "Guess you didn't know, huh? Your own father signed off on pulling the investment. Looks like your family issues run deeper than we thought."

My nails dug into my palms.

Him.

My own father.

He didn't just abandon me emotionally—he was destroying my career too.

He was going to RUIN me!

"Give me three days," I said, my voice shaking. "I can find another investor."

But the GM shook his head, his expression a mask of fake sympathy. "The board's already made their decision, Sandra. You should... take some time off. Paid leave."

Paid leave?

Corporate speak for "quit before we fire you."

I looked at them, one playing bad cop, the other playing worse cop, and I almost laughed.

I straightened my shoulders.

"Don't bother."

"I resign. Effective immediately."

I turned and walked out without looking back.

Back at my desk, my coworkers stared. Some looked away. Others whispered.

Jenna, my assistant, came over with red-rimmed eyes. "Ms. Phillips, please don't go..."

I smiled and squeezed her shoulder. "All good things come to an end."

I started packing up my things.

There wasn't much. I'd spent so much time working, I barely had any personal belongings here.

At the back of a drawer, I found an old picture frame.

Inside was a family photo from five years ago—Dad's 60th birthday.

He looked so proud. One arm around Mom, the other around me, grinning happily.

I remembered that night. He'd had a few drinks and pulled me close, telling everyone, "This is my girl. My pride and joy!"

On the back of the photo, he'd written in his messy handwriting: "My little firecracker."

I stared at that photo for a long time.

Was that happy girl in the picture really me?

Were those warm memories all fake?

My hands started shaking. A wave of rage and grief crashed over me.

I ripped the photo out of the frame. Tore it into pieces. Again. And again.

Then I threw the scraps into the trash.

Just like I was throwing away my pathetic, worthless past.

I called my landlord, told him I was moving out and he could keep the deposit.

Then I opened my phone and booked the earliest flight to Miami.

I couldn't stay in this city another day.

The airport terminal was packed.

The PA system echoed with boarding announcements.

I sat in a corner, oversized sunglasses hiding most of my face, waiting for my flight.

I'd booked the first plane to Miami. A city where no one knew me. Where I could start over.

Just as I stood to head to the gate, the PA system crackled to life.

"Attention, passenger Sandra Phillips. Please report to the information desk. Your family is looking for you. They are very concerned."