Chapter 2The Termination Clause

The office was eerily quiet.

Chloe had started as the front desk admin two years ago. Last year, she became Leo’s girlfriend and had carried herself like the First Lady ever since. She viewed any female creature that came within a ten-foot radius of Leo as a mortal enemy.

Somehow, she still had a flock of supporters.

Right now, she was leaning against the reception desk, “sharing” something with a few colleagues. Her voice was a syrupy-sweet confection, punctuated by delicate giggles behind her hand. But her eyes were like hooks, flicking in my direction again and again.

“Oh, Avery just works so hard, it breaks my heart,” she sighed, loud enough for me to hear. “A girl has to take care of herself, you know? If Leo knew how much she was pushing herself, he’d blame me for not looking after you better.”

She let out another little laugh. “My Leo is just too soft-hearted. He always feels like he owes his hardworking employees so much. I’ve told him a million times, ‘Don’t be too nice to your subordinates, honey. You don’t want to give them the wrong idea.’”

The air around me grew thick, the gazes of my coworkers sticky with a mix of curiosity and malicious glee.

I ignored it all, pouring every ounce of my focus into the contract revisions.

An hour later, I had checked every clause, every word, every comma. I clicked send.

Recipient: Leo Miller.

The moment the email left my outbox, a pair of exquisite stilettos stopped beside my desk. Chloe leaned down, holding Leo’s phone in her manicured hand.

“Great work, Avery. You’re such a trooper,” she chirped, her smile a mask of pure innocence. She wiggled the phone. “Leo left this with me. He didn’t want me to worry.”

She leaned in conspiratorially. “It was just a precaution, you know, in case any little bees tried to buzz around my husband…”

She pulled back, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, Avery, don’t get me wrong! I wasn’t talking about you! I’m sure you were just sending a work email.”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was perfectly pitched to carry across the entire open-plan office.

From the next cubicle, I heard a choked-off snort of laughter.

Someone else muttered, dripping with sarcasm, “Well, well. When the real girlfriend has to come mark her territory, you know someone doesn’t have any boundaries.”

“Seriously. Director at twenty-eight? You think she got that with just her ‘work ethic’? Please. We all know what kind of ‘ethic’ gets you that kind of promotion.”

I smiled, leaning back in my chair.

“Chloe, the word you used was ‘husband,’” I said, my voice calm and clear. “When was the wedding? I must have missed the invitation.”