Chapter 2Drenched in Bleach and Blood

For seven years, I had carried the entire sales department on my back.

The first time I tried to resign was during the company’s massive restructuring. We were dying, bleeding money, and a lifeline account with Arthur Jenkins was on the table. I ran myself ragged for that deal. I took his wife and daughters on endless tours of the city during the day, playing the perfect concierge, and drank myself into a hospital bed with stress-induced ulcers entertaining his executives at night.

I put my life on the line to prove our dedication. That was the only reason a titan like Jenkins gave a mid-sized firm like ours a second glance. Since then, his company only dealt with me.

Lying in a hospital bed with an IV in my arm, I had joked to my team, “I’m burning out. I think I need to retire.” Back then, the very people mocking me today were surviving off the crumbs of the commissions I brought in.

The second time I tried to leave, it was Monica’s fault. She had royally screwed up a compliance clause on a major project, exposing the company to millions in breach-of-contract penalties. I stayed at the office for thirty-six hours straight with my core team, combing through thousands of pages of legalese to fix her mess.

Because of that, I had to leave Lily home alone with a babysitter. My little girl spiked a fever in the middle of the night and ended up in the ER.

The next morning, sitting beside her tiny, fragile body in the pediatric ward, I drafted my resignation.

Richard Caldwell, the CEO, personally showed up at the hospital with expensive toys and a desperate plea.

“Valerie, this company goes under without you. I’ll double your base salary. You cannot leave. Put Lily’s medical bills on the corporate insurance, no deductibles. Please.”

Out of loyalty to the man who gave me my first shot after my divorce, I swallowed my exhaustion and went back to work.

I never realized that to these ungrateful vultures, my sacrifices looked like theatrical, manipulative power plays.

“You’re all pathetic,” I spat, no longer trying to hide my contempt. “Get out of my way.”

But Derek and Monica stepped precisely into my path, positioning themselves like loyal Dobermans in front of Sloane.

I pivoted, heading for the secondary exit by the breakroom.

Feeling her authority slipping, Sloane let out an ear-piercing shriek.

“Did I say you could leave?!” she screamed. “You think you can disrespect me and just walk out? Pin her down! Make her get on her knees and apologize to me!”