WENDY'S POV
March 9th, 2026
I spent the entire weekend vibrating with a mix of academic obsession and dread. I brushed up on the O'Malley account until I could recite their quarterly earnings in my sleep. I knew their CEO liked golf and high-stakes poker; I knew their lead creative hated the color mauve. I was prepared.
I was also busy dodging my neighbor, Mr. Henderson, who had been bugging me to sell him my house for months. He smelled like mothballs and desperation, but I wasn't budging. My house was all I had left of my mother, and goddammit, I was going to pay off Antonio's fraudulent mortgages if it killed me. At the rate I was going—saving every penny, eating enough ramen to turn my blood into sodium—I'd have it cleared in two years.
I woke up two hours earlier than usual. The
