“…his judgment’s been questionable for months…”
“…I mean, have you seen the girl adjacent to his office?”
“…mhm, the one with the thrift store skirts and thosehips? God. You’d think Voss would keep someone better than that close to him, but who am I to…”
My throat tightens. She wasn’t looking at me when she said it, obviously, but she didn’t have to.
A polite little chuckle, Gary from the board, ithasto be him, doesn’t disagree.
The words sink like stones into the pit of my stomach. Specifically, her careful cruelty in using ‘those hips’ to describe me. Karen’s far too practiced to say something as blunt as fat. No, she aimed the dart where it would hit the hardest and still be deniable. It hurt all the same.
My gut twists inside me. I stare down at the keyboard, willing it to calm me and take away the sting behind my eyes. I’ve been called worse, but the dismissive way she said it was effortless, and it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
The soft sound of an alert brings my eyes back to the screen. Glowing in the corner is a notification. One new email.
From:Anthony E. Voss, C.E.O of Voss & Bartley Inc
Subject:Contract
Contract. That single word knocks the breath out of my lungs. I can barely hear the soft click of the door between our offices shutting. I turn around expecting him to be behind me, but he was closing me in.
I look back at the screen, at the little file attached.Contract.Draft1.pdf.
There’s a link just beneath it, one to DocuSign, and I blink in terror. Or arousal. I’m not entirely sure.
My hands shake slightly as I open the file to read through it. It’s seventeen pages long! I guess I should be glad it’s so thorough andlegal. I can’t decide if I’m mortified that he had someone draft this or if I’m touched that he wrote it himself.
I start to read through it, slowly, taking in every word. Legal jargon be damned; I want to know the full scope of exactly what I’m getting myself into. Sure enough, there’s a clause stating I’m expected to walk away in the end and allow him to raise the kid on his own. He will permit me visitation, provided I don’t seek parental rights or try to establish a full parental relationship before the child turns sixteen.
Wild. But I was half expecting it.
Under the compensation header, is a line that nearly makes me laugh:
“Per Ms. Swan’s request, the following conditions are agreed upon:”
My heart does a little leap. He listened to what I wanted. I scan the list.
“1. Current job title and position (Executive Communications Manager) will be retained, with a salary increase of 100%, up to $350,000 per annum. This will be applicable for the entirety of Ms. Swan’s time with Voss & Bartley Inc. Open to negotiation.
2. Full coverage medical insurance, including dental and vision, through pregnancy and in perpetuity. This is extended to dependents in the future.
3. Full retirement package not dependent on continued work for Voss & Bartley Inc.
4. Stock options in Voss & Bartley Inc.
5. 60 days PTO per annum. As many as needed postpartum, not counted toward new allowance.
6. Four payments of $1,000,000. The first will be deposited within forty-eight hours of the signed agreement, the second at the three-month mark post-conception, the third at the six-month mark post-conception, and the fourth after birth.
7. Mr. Voss will cease referring to Ms. Swan’s work as ‘fine.’”
My breath catches in my throat. A million. Up front.
Angela could pay Ava’s medical bills tomorrow. They could move into a better apartment. I could pay off her loans; erase every sleepless night she’s had choosing between medicine and groceries.
I read it again and again. The benefits, the retirement, the stock options, themoney, the stopping of calling my work “fine” — it shouldn’t make my eyes water, but it does.
He’s willing to give meso muchfor this.
