(Sabrina's POV)
The box feels heavier with each step toward Sophia's car, like it's absorbing all the weight of my anger and humiliation. Seven years of work reduced to random items someone else deemed not important enough to save. I don't even want to look inside.
"Get in," Sophia says, already behind the wheel. "We're going back to my place.”
I slide into the passenger seat, setting the box on my lap. My hands are still trembling—not from fear anymore, but from rage. The kind that starts in your bones and radiates outward until your entire body vibrates with it.
"I can't believe she actually fired me," I say as Sophia pulls into traffic. "Just like that. After all the years I put into this company.”
"She did you a favor." Sophia's jaw is set, her knuckles white on the steering wheel
