Chapter One
Chloe
If someone were about to die, what would they want to do? I'd imagined every kind of last hurrah—Northern Lights in Iceland, one final goodbye to someone I couldn't let go of, blowing every cent I'd saved. Never thought the answer would be standing in the middle of an office, getting torn apart by my supervisor in front of everyone.
"This is what you're giving me?"
Hans held up my proposal, waving it in the air like a used tissue.
Third time this month. I'd worked around the clock, revised this jewelry pitch three times, and the bastard still wouldn't let up.
"Chloe Bennett." Hans drew out my full name, like he was chewing something rotten. "I'm honestly curious how you even got hired here. My dog's probably more creative than you."
Muffled snickers leaked from various corners. But nobody spoke. The rules in this office were simple. When Hans was on a tear, you turned yourself into a breathing plant.
This wasn't my first public humiliation. Every other time, I'd swallowed it—accepted blame for mistakes that weren't mine, just to make it end faster.
But today was different. My hand clenched around my bag under the desk. Inside was something I'd gotten this morning—test results.
I couldn't remember the medical terms. Just the way the doctor's eyes wouldn't quite meet mine. He said my situation wasn't good. Worst case, three months.
Three months.
I was twenty-five. I'd moved here from a town nobody'd heard of, spent two years clawing my way to this job. I'd lived on ramen, slept in a windowless basement, and gotten my wallet stolen three times on the subway.
I thought it was all worth it. Finally had my foot in the door in New York. Had a badge that said Falcone Jewels, even if I was just bottom-tier designer, even if my boss was a certified prick.
None of that mattered now.
Hans was still talking. His mouth opened and closed, spit flying with every exaggerated gesture. He started flipping through my proposal page by page, snorting at each one like he was looking at a toddler's crayon scribbles.
My silence must have pissed him off. Hans's voice shot up an octave.
"Are you even listening to me?" He leaned down, hands on my desk, face less than a foot from mine.
Christ, his breath smelled like onions.
"I'm talking to you, Chloe. Or do you think that face of yours is enough to coast by here? Let me tell you something, in my department, that face is worthless."
I glanced down at my bag. The corner of the test results peeked out from the zipper, white edge slightly curled. Three months. Ninety days, two thousand one hundred sixty hours. I'd been counting all morning. However I added it up, it wasn't enough. Not enough to do everything I wanted, go everywhere I needed to go.
But it was enough to deck one asshole.
I took a deep breath and stood up. Before Hans could react, I grabbed the proposal off my desk and slapped it across his face.
I put real force behind it. Hans's head snapped to the side, pagesscattering across the floor. His eyes went wide, mouth hanging open, like he couldn't comprehend getting what he deserved.
I didn't give him time to process. My right fist was already swinging, connecting solidly with his nose.
Hans screamed, clutching his face, stumbling backward. Blood seeped through his fingers and dripped onto Falcone Jewels' pristine floor.
The office erupted. Everyone snapped out of their plant state, staring at the chaos unfolding.
My right hand throbbed, knuckles swelling, but something inside me was thawing—a satisfaction I hadn't felt in forever.
Felt damn good.
"Chloe! Have you lost your fucking mind?" Hans's voice came out garbled through the blood. "You crazy bitch! You're done. Expect to hear from my lawyer!"
