I didn’t just stroll in late. I made an entrance.
The kind of late that makes your manager rehearse exactly how to make it hurt when he lets you go.
Mr. Dalton stepped out of his office the second I walked in, like he’d been tracking my absence with a stopwatch.
His shoes clicked against the tile as he crossed the floor, an expression already halfway to a lecture.
“You’re late,” he said flatly.
“I know.” I met his stare. “But I won’t be staying long.”
He paused mid-step. “Excuse me?”
“I’m quitting,” I said simply. “Effective immediately.”
Behind me, I heard Romi suck in a breath. She paused, a tray of muffins in her hands.
Dalton straightened, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No joke,” I said. “This job was never forever. And now it’s time.”
