Chapter 3

I walked through the front doors of the Marora Group headquarters.

The receptionist recognized me and greeted me with a warm smile. "Morning, Camille! Mr. Irwin is waiting for you in his office."

Mark's office sat at the end of the hall, the door propped open. He was studying something on his computer.

At the sound of my knock, he raised his head and smiled. "Camille! Good to see you. Have a seat."

I sat down across from him, and he immediately got down to business. "I want to run something with you."

I straightened up in my chair. "I'm listening."

"Remember that project from before the holidays? The eight-million-dollar account with your old firm?" he asked.

That was the very project I had pulled countless all-nighters for and revised endlessly, only for Eliza to walk up on stage and claim the prize.

Mark continued, "It's time for the final sign-off and audit. I thought about sending someone else, but then I realized you managed that account from start to finish.

"Nobody knows it better than you. So, I'd like you to handle it. Head over this morning and conduct the project audit."

I met his earnest gaze, thinking back to the day I handed in my resignation. My former boss, Gregory Howell, hadn't even been bothered to look up as he tossed my letter aside.

I recalled Eliza standing on stage accepting my award, her eyes glistening as she thanked everyone. I remembered Rachel telling me my bonus fell short because I was not a team player.

I recalled what had happened that morning. Their frantic phone calls had been filled with commands, threats, and sweet talk that ultimately devolved into bitter, angry rants.

"Sounds good. I'll head over right away." I nodded. "I'm curious to see how they're kicking off the new year."

After leaving Mark's office, I swung by the HR department to finish my onboarding paperwork. Finally, the representative handed me my new badge.

Printed beneath my photo was my name and new title: [Camille Franklin, Project Director.]

I had barely sat down at my new desk when my phone lit up with a call from Gregory. Over the past seven years, this number had popped up on my screen countless times.

The topics had ranged from midnight demands and weekend overtime orders to last-minute assignments while I was traveling for business.

Every time, I had answered immediately, repeating the same dutiful lines.

"On it, Mr. Howell."

"Right away, Mr. Howell."

"No problem, Mr. Howell."

...

Once I answered the call, his angry voice boomed through the line.

"Camille!" he shouted. "Who the hell do you think you are? You ignore my calls, dodge my texts, and block everyone who tries to reach you. What, you think you're untouchable now?"

His temper flared higher as he continued, "I'm telling you, don't throw my generosity back in my face. If you don't get your ass in here today, I'm marking you absent without leave and firing you. I'll put a black mark on your permanent record. Let's see what company dares to hire you after that!"

"Firing me?" I sneered internally.

"Mr. Howell," I said evenly, "I'm actually on my way to the office right now."

Gregory couldn't hide the smugness in his voice. "Smart move! Hurry up. I'm waiting for you."

When Mark first texted me his offer before the holidays, I hadn't accepted immediately. But after Eliza stole the credit for my hard work at the annual gala, followed by that insulting $250 bonus, I lay awake until six in the morning.

That night, one thing became crystal clear: that company was never a place that rewarded true competence. All it offered was endless labor, taking the blame for others, and quietly suffering in a corner while the brownnosers took all the credit.

Right then and there, I decided to walk away and join our client's firm instead.

Snapping back to reality, I stood up and slung the lanyard with my new badge around my neck. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of look they'd have on their faces when I walked in as their high-priority client.

The cab pulled up outside the familiar office building. Stepping through the glass doors, I found the lobby exactly as I had left it.

I had only walked a few paces inside when Rachel strolled over, holding a cup of coffee.

"Well, well. I thought you had more backbone than this," she scoffed, looking me up and down.

"With that attitude you had on the phone this morning, I thought you were hitting the big leagues. What happened? Flew around in a circle only to crawl right back?"