Page 36 of Levi

She lets out a demonic laugh. “You bet your bottom dollar.” She never really made any effort to be nice to me, but I never imagined she’d take pleasure in seeing me destitute. “One last thing before I go.”

“What now?”

“I did your last three remaining employees a favor.”

Attrition has been a problem since Daddy died. Let’s just say, the employees weren’t jumping up-and-down when Hillary and I stepped in. Well, since she didn’t show her bitchy face often, I guess attrition was caused by my inexperience to run a company.

“In what sense?” I ask carefully.

“Once you buy me out, your father’s company will crumble like a deck of cards. I called them to warn them of things to come and suggested they find a new job because your days are numbered.”

Her revelation knocks me askew. “You did what?” I shriek.

“I’m sure they dropped their letters of resignation on your desk as they rushed out the door. You can thank me later. I saved you from having that difficult conversation.”

My body vibrates with rage. “You raving bitch!” I spit into the phone.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” she singsongs before ending the call.

A text message pops on my screen.

Then another.

And another.

Judging from who they’re from and variations of the sameI’m really sorry to do this, Jules, but...opening line, I don’t have to read the messages in full to know what this pertains to. I guess in a way, I should be relieved since making payroll was always so stressful, involving so much juggling, it would deplete me of all my energy.

I’m not sure how long I stand in the lobby of this fancy building, clutching my phone. It must be a while, because my legs start to hurt. There’s no equity left in the house. Daddy used it all to keep the company afloat. And profits from the business are as foreign as snow in Miami. In other words, I’m knee-deep in shit.

The weight that is my life settles on my shoulders, as heavy as an elephant.

My mind races for a solution, but none comes.

All the air seems to evaporate around me.

What am I going to do?

Where am I going to find money to buy Hillary out?

Where am I going to live?

How am I going to survive this?

My stomach twists and catapults bile into my throat as I struggle not to throw up.

I’m doomed.

As tears prickle behind my eyes, I bite hard against my lower lip, determined not to show any cracks in my armor. My first instinct is to call Syd because I really could use a shoulder to cry on, but I need to get out of here before the panic that’s beginning to ebb turns into sheer terror. On the verge of an avalanche of tears, I turn around, dead set on rushing out of here before anyone sees me lose it, but I don’t go very far. I slam right into a wall of muscle.

“Careful there,” a deep voice says, before strong hands grip my shoulders.

“I–– I’m sorry,” I mumble, my eyes trained to the floor.

I’m not going to cry.

I repeat the mantra over and over again, but it’s in vain. My body starts to tremble.

I’m fucking crying.