“You know what? You’re done. Pack your little bag, walk yourself out, and tell whoever hired you that Miles Corven personally terminated you for gross unprofessionalism.” He snapped his fingers twice in my face like I was a dog. The interns flinched. I just stood there, coffee dripping off my sleeve onto the polished floor, and let him keep going. He wanted an audience, so I gave him one. He listed every reason I didn’t belong on his floor: my shoes, my accent, my cheap watch, the way I said good morning to the cleaning staff instead of the executives. He said people like me were why productivity was down. He said he was going to make sure I never worked in this city again. Behind him, the elevator chimed. Two men in charcoal suits stepped out, followed by Diane from Legal, who was walking so fast her heels were snapping against the tile like gunshots. She was carrying a leather folder pressed to her chest and her face was the color of paper. Miles didn’t turn around. He was too busy telling me to smile and thank him for the lesson. Diane stopped three feet behind him. One of the suited men cleared his throat. Miles finally noticed the silence and turned, annoyed, ready to snap at whoever was interrupting his moment. Diane’s voice came out very small and very careful. “Miles. This is Mr. Okafor from the board. They’ve been reviewing the internal audit footage from the last six weeks.” Miles laughed, confused. “Okay? And?” Diane’s eyes flicked to me, then back to him, and she swallowed. “They came down because they need to speak with the owner. Immediately.” Miles smirked and spread his arms. “Well, tell Halden I’ll be in my office in ten.” Mr. Okafor didn’t smile. He turned, very slowly, and looked directly at me, still standing there in my coffee-soaked shirt and scuffed sneakers. He gave a small, respectful nod. “Ma’am. Whenever you’re ready.” Miles’s face started to change. Not all at once. First the mouth. Then the eyes. Then the hand still frozen mid-snap in the air between us.
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