Amara.
I regret everything.
Standing outside the sleek glass building that houses Thorne Industries, clutching my coffee like a lifeline, I'm seriously considering turning around and never coming back.
The podcast went live at 6 AM. It's now 8:47, and I've gotten fifteen text messages, eighty-four notifications on social media, and three missed calls from Gracie, who apparently listened to it on her morning run and is now deeply concerned about my mental state.
Maybe she should be.
What the hell was I thinking last night? Recording a thinly veiled attack on my boss and putting it out into the world for everyone—including him—to hear?
I might as well have painted a target on my back and signed my own termination papers.
Ugh!
It was supposed to be empowering. A takedown of manipulat
