Yet Gavin was telling me I should have abandoned a collapsed stranger because a business presentation mattered more.
“Gavin,” I said, hearing the tremble in my own voice. “I have given everything to this place.”
He showed no emotion.
“I don’t care,” he said. “Pack up your things. You’re done here.”
I couldn’t move.
My mind seemed incapable of accepting what he’d just announced.
Several coworkers avoided looking at me. Others watched with expressions bordering on sympathy.
An account manager stared determinedly at her keyboard, pretending to be absorbed in work.
Nobody intervened.
Gavin gestured toward the hallway.
“That’s the end of it.”
I wish I’d responded with an unforgettable speech about loyalty or human decency.
I wish I’d walked away looking composed and victorious.
Instead, humiliation overwhelmed me.
My face burned, my throat tightened, and tears gathered before I could control them.
