“So what kind of mentorship happens behind a locked door?” I asked. Her breath caught.
“All those nights… he was lying?” “Oh honey, he wasn’t just lying—he was building a second life.” A loud slam sounded. “I’ve been made a fool!”
“You have,” I said, “but not by me.” “I’m coming there. Don’t let them leave.” She hung up. Minutes later, the elevator opened. The intern stepped out laughing, my boss fixing his tie like he’d gotten away with everything. He hadn’t.
Because his wife stepped out of the next elevator—heels like gunshots, face like ice. This marriage wasn’t ending quietly. I grabbed my bag, walked past them, and finally said: “Good luck explaining this overtime.” Then I left—for good—with the sweetest freedom I’d ever felt.