Chapter 25 （B） – Andrea
TWENTY-FIVE (B)
ANDREA
Monday
Imade it through a booklet of practice tests, twenty coffee carafes, and a reread of my thesis before headquarters decided to intrude on my final off day via phone call.
From the intern department.
I let it ring.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then my personal cell lit up with the same number.
Oh, come on. I swallowed a sigh and answered.
“This is Andrea speaking.”
“Miss Stone, it’s me—Rachel!” she screamed. “I need your help and I need it now.”
“What’s going on?”
“I can’t find Mr. Cross’s notes for his chat with Hudson Business School.”
“Check his cloud.”
“He said he wants the version with your notes on it, and I didn’t upload that one,” she said. “I know it’s in his office or library somewhere, but I can’t find it and pleaseeee help so he won’t fire me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can talk you through looking through a few places, but I’m off today.”
“Off?” she gasped. “He’s giving you special privileges?”
Shit… “No,” I said, sighing. “It was a joke, Rachel.”
“Ohhhh. Good one!” She laughed nervously. “Anyway, please help me. I’ll pay it back down the line, I swear.”
“I’m on my way.”
I shut my binder and decided to make this jaunt part of my lunch break.
Two hours max, Andrea. Two hours.
By the time I made it to the office, other interns were rushing around his office—looking in all the wrong places.
Walking to his desk, I unlocked his top drawer, then his private document case, and pulled it out.
“Here it is,” I said, holding it up. “You can take it.”
“Oh, wow, thanks!” Sophie smiled. “He gave you a key to his drawers?”
“Please go give him the files before he explodes on you.”
“Oh, right.” She rushed away, and I straightened his desk out of habit.
His laptop was still open and unlocked, with a drafted email.
To me.
I squinted to read it.
Dear Miss Stone,
Since I’ve generously given you the ENTIRE weekend off (with an additional day)… you can make up for it by completing the fifty things on my attached list.
Preferably by the end of Tuesday.
Ugh!
I slammed it shut, and the hourglass on his desk tipped and hit the floor.
I bent to pick it up—then stopped.
This stupid little hourglass had wreaked havoc on my life for months, and my fake off day wasn’t long enough to make me forget any of it…
I glared at its smooth glass body, rolling it back and forth between my hands.
Then I lifted it above my head and dropped it.
The crash echoed too loudly in the sterile room.
Sand spilled across the floor, useless now—time finally broken instead of breaking me.
Adrenaline surged through me, and I felt the need to ruin more.
I grabbed the metal holder and hurled it across the room. It slammed into the wall, leaving a dent in the pristine paint.
This feels too damn good…
I swept everything off his desk—files fanning through the air, pens clattering against marble, framed magazine covers shattering against the wall.
I grabbed his umbrella, flipped it over, and brought it down hard against the hourglass.
Again.
And again.
“Good evening, Miss Stone.” Mr. Cross’s deep voice froze me in place.
I was too stunned to move, so I mentally weighed my options. Run like hell. Pretend nothing happened. Stand perfectly still.
The last option won by default.
He stepped into the room, his face expressionless as he navigated around the wreckage. He bent, picked up the hourglass, brushed it off calmly, and placed it back on the desk—exactly where it belonged.
Then he looked at the rest of the damage.
Then at me.
“We need to talk,” he said. “I was planning to hold off on this until tomorrow, but let’s handle it now. Shall we?”
He led me into the conference room and took a seat at the table.
“Sit.”
I obliged, and he stared at me, his expression unreadable.
Then he leaned forward, tapping his fingers against the wood.
“Do you still hate your job?” he asked.
“Immensely.”
“Even with the raise?”
“The pay doesn’t change the pain…”
“Well, in that case, I’d like to offer you a new one,” he said. “One that I think you might love.”
“There’s a position called Being Free?”
“No.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “I’m talking about making you CFO.”
What? The world shifted and I held back a gasp.
I sat up a bit straighter, and as if he could tell he had my attention wrapped around his finger, he stared at me awhile before speaking again.
“In order to continue saving this company, we’ll need to bring on investors and go public,” he said. “But when you do that, you open everything up for scrutiny, and not having a CFO is a huge red flag.”
“So…” He picked up a contract and slid it to me. “What do you say?”
Hell yes. YES.
I flipped through the sheets, ready to ask for the pen, but something hit me.
“Wait a minute.” I shook my head. “What’s the catch?”
“I can’t believe you think there is one, Miss Stone.”
“What’s the salary?”
“It’s two hundred thousand more than what you’re currently making,” he said. “I’ll also throw in a better town car, if you like.”
I shook my head, still not buying it.
“Read through it for yourself.” He slid it to me again.
“I’ll have a lawyer look over it.”
“Mine already did. It’s safe.”
“Yeah, for you. Not me.”
“I’m pretty sure Mr. Carter was more than fair with the terms, Andrea. There’s a guaranteed bonus of ten million dollars that’ll be paid out over six years.”
I blinked.
“No one offers a ten million dollar bonus without securing something shady in return,” I said. “So what am I actually agreeing to?”
He smiled, as if that was the answer.
A part of me was itching to sign for that amount and move on, but another part didn’t think I would last that long to ever receive it.
“I would really appreciate it, if you just let me in on the catch,” I said.
“Hmmm,” he said. “Well, you’ll obviously need to finish up your degree by the end of quarter three and pass the exam, but…You’ll also be required to attend conferences on the company’s behalf, which includes the one coming up in Hawaii.”
“That’s in like two weeks.”
“You should probably start packing.” He clicked his pen. “Sign the contract, Miss Stone.”
“I want something else in writing before I sign,” I replied.
“Something more than ten million?”
“You have to promise not to lay anyone off for at least two years after your takeover, and then to give at least ninety days’ notice if you have to let them go.”
“I’d rather raise your bonus to fifteen million.”
“I’m not stupid,” I said. “Something is wrong here—and I’m pretty sure Mr. Lewis sold you a terrible deal.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it.
“The point is,” I continued, “most of the people who work here have been here for almost a decade or more, and I’m asking you not to destroy their livelihoods.”
“You didn’t say anything when I fired people for being late their first week.”
“Those people wanted to be fired.”
He flexed his fingers. “I’m not a fan of mixing emotion with business, so as heartwarming as your proposal is—”
“My dad was laid off without warning and it ruined my entire family,” I interrupted him. “I’m asking you to save other families the pain of that.”
Silence.
“We’d just moved into a new house,” I said, staring at him. “He told us about all the trips he planned to take us on.”
The memories flooded back—him hunched over the dining table, pacing in the dark, whispering to my mother.
“He ended his life six months later,” I said quietly. “Because he felt like a failure and he told us we’d be better off, but we really haven’t been.”
“So, forgive me if you think this is emotional, but I won’t be part of something that destroys another family.”
He said nothing for several moments.
“What happened to your mother?” he asked.
“She became a shell of herself and lost touch with reality,” I said. “She lives with my grandparents and works at a bookstore.”
“Okay,” he said at last. “No layoffs and a ninety-day notice.”
“Thank you.”
I skimmed the pages one by one, feeling my heart race at the sight of Chief Financial Officer next to my name.
The NDAs looked standard, the company policies were still terrible, but the salary was exactly as he said, as was the bonus.
I picked up the pen and signed my name on all the last pages. Then I handed the contract to him.
“You made the right choice,” he said, folding it.
“Your new position doesn’t become official until tomorrow, so…” He stood up from his chair and grabbed my hand. “There’s something you’re going to do before it goes into effect.”
He led me back to his office—to his desk.
Letting go of my hand, he sat down in his chair and flexed his hands.
“You can get started any moment now, so I can watch.”
“Watch me what?”
“Clean up the mess you made…”