“Did you really go behind my back and paysix monthsof my rent?” she fired off, no greeting or preamble.
“Yes,” I answered.
“That was out of line, Julian! Six months? That’s—” She stopped, visibly collecting herself. “I can handle my own life. I'mnota charity case! Take it back.”
“It's already done,” I said evenly. “Can't be undone. Accept it and move on.”
Her jaw locked as we stared each other down. She was pissed off and unflinching. I wasn't used to being challenged like that. Inside, I was completely thrown off, but I didn't blink.
Then she reached into her purse, pulled out a check and slid it across my desk like she was delivering evidence. “Fine. This covers what I was prepared to pay upfront. I'll pay you the rest monthly, just like I would've paid the landlord.”
I didn't even look at the check. Just ripped it clean in half, then in fourths, the sound purposefully slow. The pieces fluttered to my desk like surrender flags neither of us would claim.
Her eyes widened for a split second before narrowing again. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, standing straighter. “I'm trying to pay you back.”
“No.”
“Julian.”
“We're done discussing this.”
She huffed. “We'renotdone.”
“We are.”
She was quiet for a moment, looked down, then back at me. “Let me guess. You're helping me because you feel sorry for me. You learned my sob story, now you’ve decided I needed your pity?”
“I don't feel sorry for you in the least.” I leaned forward, cutting her off before she could build more steam. “I'm impressed by you. You went through a hurricane and came out standing. Most people would've crumbled. You rebuilt. That takes real strength.”
She blinked, caught completely off guard. The fire in her eyes flickered, replaced by something vulnerable she quickly tried to hide.
I stood up, moving around my desk to lean against the front of it, closer but not crowding her. “I know about weathering storms. About carrying the weight of someone else’s choices. Maybe I just respect what you've done. What you are doing.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. She stared at me like she was trying to figure me out.
“You don't know what you're talking about,” she said finally, but the fight had gone out of her voice.
“Maybe not,” I said. “But I know resilience when I see it. I know what it looks like when someone doesn’t let their circumstances define them.”
She swallowed hard, tired, proud, stronger than she probably gave herself credit for.
“You're stubborn,” I said matter-of-factly. “So am I. The difference is, I know how to get a win without wasting energy on a fight.”
“By bulldozing people?” The spark was back, but gentler now.
“By handling things.”
Her nostrils flared, and I could see her working up more to say. Instead of arguing, I decided to give her an out.
“Relax. It's not personal. WadeHouse keeps blocks of short-term housing for out-of-town talent, producers, staff. These types of leases are standard. Business expense. I’ll write it off. Nothing more.”
She studied me like she was cross-examining a hostile witness, but the tension in her shoulders had eased.
I looked toward the door and saw Zion still there with Glory. “Zion!” I shouted to get his attention, though I was certain he had been eavesdropping the whole time.
He walked back in. I flicked my eyes to Alyssa, “Tell her. We lease blocks of short-term housing all the time, right?”
He caught the look I gave him and smiled. “Yeah. Standard practice.” He shrugged casually at Alyssa.
