I stopped to help a woman who was dy//ing on the side of the road and lost my job because I arrived late, but when I returned to collect my things from my desk, my entire life was about to change.

I stared at him.

I hadn’t known that statistic myself.

Eleanor continued questioning Gavin about my weekends, unpaid overtime, and client-retention results.

He couldn’t provide meaningful answers.

Then she turned toward me.

“What did he tell you when you explained why you were late?”

I glanced at Gavin.

For a fleeting moment, I considered protecting him.

I’d spent four years quietly correcting mistakes and shielding management from the consequences of poor decisions.

But I remembered his exact words.

“He asked whether you were my wife.”

“Then?”

“He asked whether you were my mother.”

“And when you said no?”

I swallowed.

“He said I should have kept driving.”

Eleanor’s expression changed.

Disappointment replaced her earlier anger.

“You told him to keep driving.”

“I was frustrated.”

“You told a man he should have driven past someone in medical distress because you had a presentation.”

“It sounds terrible when phrased like that.”