The email was three sentences.
"Effective immediately, your role as Regional Vice President has been eliminated as part of a company restructuring. HR will contact you about your severance package. Please return your company car and laptop by Friday."
Terrence read it out loud. Halfway through, Brielle's face changed.
"Company car?" she said. "The Porsche is a company car?"
That night he called Danielle eleven times. Nothing.
On call number twelve, her father picked up.
"Son," Harold Carter said, in that slow, calm voice that always made Terrence sweat. "You need to stop calling my daughter."
"Mr. Carter, please. This is a misunderstanding. I was going through some stuff. I made a mistake..."
"You made a mistake for eleven months," Harold said.
Terrence shut up.
"She knew," Harold said. "Since January. The hotel receipts. The messages. All of it."
"Then why didn't she say something?"
"Because she wanted to see who you really were. She gave you every chance to come clean. Every one."
Terrence pressed his forehead against the window.
"And the company? The transfer happening that same morning? That wasn't luck."
Harold took his time.
"I've been planning to retire for two years," he said. "The company was always going to Danielle. The only question was when."
"So you waited until..."
"I didn't wait for anything," Harold said. "You picked the date. You booked that hotel. You brought your girlfriend. All my daughter did was sign the papers you put in front of her."
Click.
Terrence turned around.
Brielle was standing in the bedroom doorway. Her suitcase was already packed.
This is a fictional story. Names, characters and events are invented. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental.
