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.

His jaw tightened.

He approached slowly, lowering his voice in a way that somehow made his anger more intimidating.

“Was it your wife?”

“No.”

“Your mother?”

“No.”

He gave a bitter laugh and glanced toward the other employees, apparently wanting an audience.

“So let me understand this,” he said. “You skipped an eight-thirty presentation with our biggest potential account because some random woman on the roadside appeared to be sick.”

“She wasn’t just sick,” I said. “She collapsed in my arms.”

Gavin flung one hand upward.

“And because of that, we lost the account.”

My mouth became dry.

I glanced toward the conference room, almost expecting the prospective clients to reappear with their coffee cups, willing to hear why I’d been delayed.

Of course, they were gone.

Only the stale smell of coffee and printer toner remained, along with the wreckage of the largest opportunity our small agency had pursued in months.