I had spent my nights renegotiating his bank loans and redrafting the flawed contracts that were driving his best clients away. I personally secured the emergency funding that allowed him to make payroll last spring and prepared the complex compliance audit due this coming Monday.
I had done all of it for free because I believed we were building a future together, and I kept quiet when he claimed my work as his own. He once told me he needed to appear self-sufficient to maintain his reputation, and I had been foolish enough to believe him.
“That credit line you keep boasting about was something I negotiated for you,” I said, looking around at the friends who had been laughing moments ago. “I wrote the contracts that keep your revenue flowing, and the legal clearance you need by Friday won’t happen without my signature.”
“You’re exaggerating, Valeria,” Garrett snapped, his voice losing its polished edge and taking on a sharp tone of desperation. I looked him dead in the eye and told him I wasn’t reacting to a joke, but rather to the two years of silence I had endured while he used my talent.
I grabbed my coat from the back of the chair without ever having sat down. “As of this second, I am withdrawing all my pro bono legal support, and if you want to stay in business, you can find someone else to sign off on your mess.”
