Sophia didn’t touch the phone for nearly an hour.
She showered slowly, made coffee, and stood by the window of her small East Village apartment watching the city wake up. New York was already loud — taxis honking, delivery trucks unloading, people rushing to jobs they hated.
Her phone kept vibrating on the table.
Again.
And again.
Finally, she picked it up.
198 missed calls.
312 messages.
All from Alexander Morgan.
She stared at the screen for a moment, then opened the newest message.
“Sophia, please answer. HR made a serious mistake. We need to talk immediately.”
She chuckled softly.
A mistake.
That was a polite word for what had happened.
She poured herself another cup of coffee before finally pressing the call button.
The phone rang only once.
“SOPHIA!” Alexander’s voice exploded through the speaker. “Thank God. Where are you?”
“At home,” she said calmly.
“You resigned?”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause.
