My boss ordered me to stay late every day to train my replacement

my fingers.

“What’s the rate?” I ask.

He stammers a number.

I double it.

He hesitates. Then agrees.

I smile, full of sugar and steel. “Happy to help.”

Because now, the terms are mine.

He doesn’t realize I’ve already drafted the proposal. I’ll bill them for every hour, every email, every moment they took for granted. I’ll set boundaries. I’ll hold them to continue reading …