“Oh, it’s real,” Jenna chimes in, voice high and pitchy. “I came in this morning, and his office was cleared out. No laptop, no files, nothing. It’s like he was never here.”
My heart slams against my ribs. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean—”
Sandra shoves her phone at me. “Oh, it meansexactlywhat you think it means.”
I glance down.
A text from James.
??James Cavanaugh, 6:17 AM
Sandra… I fucked up. The company’s done. I had no choice. I’m sorry.
Done.
I stare at the screen, my blood turning to ice water.
“Oh,” I say, voice hollow.
“Oh, yeah,” Sandra snaps, yanking her phone back. “That’s it. That’s theonlyexplanation we got. A text message at six in the goddamn morning saying hefucked upand now the company doesn’t exist.”
My stomach free-falls.
The office accounts. The commission accounts.
I feel the blood leave my face.
My paycheck.
My commission from my latest deal.
I take a shaky breath. “Sandra. Tell me my commission cleared last Friday.”
She presses her lips together like she’s mourning my soul.
My heart stops.
Oh.Oh, shit.
Mark groans, throwing his hands up. “No one’s commission cleared! We are royally, irreversibly,fucked.”
“No. No, no, no.” I reach for my phone, checking my banking app, as if sheer force of will could make the numbers change.
$480.37.
I tremble. “Maybe… maybe payroll just hasn’t gone through yet.”
Jenna lets out a slightly hysterical giggle. “You wanna be the one to explain that to my landlord? ‘Sorry, Mr. Howard, my paycheck got lost in a parallel universe, but rent is totally coming soon!’”
Panic crawls up my throat.
I need that commission. Ineedthat money.
And then the real kicker slams into me like a truck.
Twelve thousand, four hundred and eighty-six dollars.
That’s how much I owe my lawyer.
