Chapter 5 - THE EXIT INTERVIEW
I pushed the forty-two-page employment contract across the polished mahogany table toward Stella. It slid effortlessly over the polished wood, picking up a faint smudge of grease before bumping softly against her empty, forgotten champagne glass.
“Keep the contract, Stella,” I said, standing up from my chair with deliberate slowness. I smoothed down the front of my thrift-store sweater. “You’ll need the scratch paper to draft your résumé. The job market for disgraced former CEOs with pending fraud investigations is remarkably competitive right now.”
I reached into the pocket of my oversized wool trousers, pulled out a crisp, brand-new thousand-dollar bill from my wallet, and placed it squarely in the center of the table next to the catering manager’s hand.
The manager looked down at the bill, his eyes widening in astonishment.
“That should cover the full cost of tonight’s dinner services and a very generous holiday staff tip for your team,” I told him with a polite, professional nod.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the manager whispered, visibly relieved, pocketing the bill with a respectful bow.
Mom scrambled out of her chair, her footsteps stumbling as she hurried around the table. She lunged forward, her trembling fingers catching the hem of the oversized wool coat she had forced upon me earlier in the evening.
“Gwen, please... stop!” Mom sobbed, tears spilling down her powdered cheeks, ruining her carefully applied holiday makeup. “It’s Christmas Eve! We’re your family! Blood is thicker than water! We can fix this together! Talk to your board, talk to your partners—surely Vanguard Apex can absorb Bella Vis as a subsidiary, or restructure the debt quietly! Talk to your sister!”
I looked down at her hand clutching the rough, scratchy tweed fabric. With infinite gentleness, I reached down, unhooked her fingers one by one from the hem, slipped the heavy coat off my shoulders, and draped it neatly over the back of my chair.
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” I said quietly.
Without looking back, I reached down, scooped up my car keys from the sideboard, and walked past the glittering, obscenely expensive ornaments hanging from the fourteen-foot Christmas tree.
The heavy front door swung open to the crisp, biting winter air of Connecticut. I stepped out onto the porch, letting the door click shut behind me, sealing off the wreckage of a family built on ledger books and conditional affection.
I walked down the driveway past Andre’s gleaming Mercedes, navigating around the dark evergreen hedges where I had hidden my dented, charcoal-gray Honda Civic. I unlocked the rattling door, climbed into the familiar, modest interior, and turned the key in the ignition.
May you like
The engine sputtered to life with a familiar, mechanical cough. I put the car in reverse, checked my mirrors, and backed out into the quiet, snow-dusted suburban street.
As I drove away under the cold, indifferent moonlight, I felt a profound, overwhelming sense of lightness. I wasn't broke, I wasn't struggling, and for the first time in my life, I didn't owe a single drop of my self-worth to anyone else’s approval.
