The answer, she suspected, was about to become painfully clear.
Chapter Two
Victoria Sullivan had always believed that if you worked hard enough, if you were smart enough, if you said the right things and wore the right clothes and made the right connections, the universe would reward you accordingly. It was a philosophy that had served her well through Cambridge, through her graduate scheme, through six years of climbing the banking ladder with the sort of methodical precision that made senior partners nod approvingly and mutter things like "management material" when they thought she wasn't listening. But she was always listening.
Which was why sitting in Jeremy Whitmore's corner office at half-past ten on what had started as a perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning, Victoria found herself staring at him with the sort of blank incomprehension usually reserved for abstract art or her brother Ambrose's attempts at cooking.
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" she said, her voice sounding oddly distant even to her own ears.
Jeremy shifted uncomfortably in his leather chair, not quite meeting her eyes. The morning sun streaming through his floor-to-ceiling windows was merciless, highlighting every bead of sweat on his receding hairline. The air conditioning was fightinga losing battle against the July heat, and Victoria could feel her carefully ironed blouse starting to stick to her back.
"Company restructuring," he repeated, each word dropping into the silence like a stone into still water. "I'm afraid your entire department is being made redundant. Effective immediately. It's nothing personal, Victoria, you understand. Market forces. Changing priorities. The board felt that consolidating the investment advisory services would create better synergies with our European divisions."
Victoria nodded as if this made perfect sense, as if she hadn't spent the last three years building this department from the ground up, as if her client portfolio wasn't consistently one of the highest performing in the bank, as if she hadn't canceled dates and missed family dinners and worked through weekends to make herself indispensable.
Apparently, no one was indispensable. What a revelation.
"There'll be a generous redundancy package, of course," Jeremy continued, sliding a thick envelope across his mahogany desk. "And excellent references. With your track record, I'm sure you'll land on your feet in no time."
Land on her feet. As if losing her job was some sort of minor stumble rather than a complete earthquake that had just shattered the carefully constructed foundation of her entire adult life.
"Right," she managed. "Of course."
"You'll want to clear out your office today. Security will escort you out once you've packed up your personal items. Standard procedure, you understand."
Victoria understood perfectly. She also understood that she was expected to leave now, to shake Jeremy's sweaty hand and thank him for his time, and walk out of his office with her dignity intact. She'd seen other people get fired over the years,quietly, efficiently, with the sort of corporate politeness that made brutality seem civilized.
She just hadn't expected it to happen to her.
Twenty minutes later, she was sitting in her office staring at six years of her professional life spread across her desk: awards, commendations, client appreciation letters, photographs from company events where she'd smiled and networked and played the game exactly as she was supposed to. Outside her window, London shimmered in the oppressive heat, the Thames looking sluggish and brown in the distance.
"Ms Sullivan?" Chloe, her secretary, peered around the door frame, looking stricken. "I've brought some boxes. I'm so sorry, this is absolutely awful. I can't believe they're doing this to you."
Victoria looked up at the girl. Though Chloe was probably only a few years younger than her, Victoria had fallen into the habit of thinking of her as impossibly young and naïve. Fresh out of university, eager and optimistic, still believing that hard work and talent were enough to guarantee success. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Victoria had felt the same way.
"Thank you," Victoria said, accepting the boxes. "That's very kind."
Chloe hovered in the doorway, clearly wanting to say something more. "What will you do now?"
"Find another job, I suppose." Victoria began methodically removing photographs from their frames, stacking them in neat piles. Organization was always the key to managing a crisis. "There are plenty of opportunities out there for someone with my experience."
"But maybe this is a chance to do something different?" Chloe ventured, her voice tentatively optimistic. "I mean, you work so hard. You're always here late, always on calls with clients. Maybe now you'll have time to, you know, have a life? Date someone? Take up a hobby?"
Victoria paused, a silver-framed photo of herself shaking hands with the Chancellor half-way to the box. "I have a life."
"Do you?" Chloe asked, then immediately looked horrified at her own boldness. "I mean, I just… when was the last time you went on a date?"
It was a fair question, though not one Victoria particularly wanted to examine too closely. When was the last time she'd gone on a date? Six months ago? Eight? There'd been David from Mergers and Acquisitions, but that had fizzled out when she'd had to cancel three dinner dates in a row for client emergencies. Before that, there'd been someone from her university alumni network whose name she couldn't even remember now. And that woman who worked in… advertising? Catering? Something that didn’t involve finance, anyway.
The truth was, dating required time and energy and emotional availability, and Victoria had been investing all of those resources in her career. It had seemed like a sensible trade-off at the time.
"I've been focused on my professional development," she said, which sounded much better than admitting that her last meaningful relationship had ended two years ago when her boyfriend had accused her of being married to her job.
He hadn't been wrong. And she hadn’t been offended at the accusation.
"Well, maybe this is the universe telling you to try something new," Chloe said brightly. "You know, work to live instead of live to work?"
Victoria smiled thinly and continued packing. Work to live. What a charming concept. Unfortunately, living required money, and money required work, and work, at least, the kind of work that paid enough to maintain her Chelsea flat and her lifestyle and her ability to hold her head up at family gatherings, required the sort of complete dedication that left very little timefor dating or hobbies or whatever it was that people with more balanced lives did with their evenings.
