Cleo
The email came through at exactly 11:23AM.
Subject: Termination of Employment – Léon & Finch Art Gallery
My eyes skimmed over the words, but my brain refused to process them.
Termination? Effective immediately?
I reread the email, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Financial discrepancies? Violation of policy?
A rush of cold panic spread through me, numbing my fingertips as I scrolled down, searching for some clarification some indication that this was all some bizarre clerical error. But the longer I stared, the more real it became. My stomach churned, and for a split second, I thought I might actually throw up.
I needed to fix this. Now.
Shoving my chair back, I stormed out of my office, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floors as I made a beeline for Vivienne's office. The secretary barely had time to lift her head before I pushed the door open.
Vivienne Ambrose sat behind her desk, her manicured hands folded neatly over a stack of papers. Across from her, reclining like he owned the place, was him.
Ethan Monroe, the new transfer from our London branch. Polished. Smug. Acting like he's God's greatest gift to mankind.
I should've known.
Vivienne glanced up, already expecting me.
"Cleo." She sighed, reaching for a pen.
"I assume you saw the email."
I ignored the chair in front of me. Standing felt safer. Stronger.
"Yeah, I saw it," I said, my voice tight. "And I'm here to tell you there's been a mistake." My eyes flicked to Ethan, and my stomach twisted with disgust. "A deliberate one."
Ethan leaned back, looking infuriatingly at ease. "Now, that's a bold accusation."
Vivienne slid a folder across the desk. "We conducted an internal review, Cleo. These financial discrepancies all trace back to your login credentials."
I didn't need to open the folder to know the evidence was fake. But it was convincing enough to get me fired. I shook my head. "Vivienne, you know me. I would never do something like this."
Vivienne's expression softened just a fraction. "I thought I knew you."
That hit me harder than it should have.
Ethan exhaled dramatically, like this whole thing was exhausting for him. "The gallery can't afford these kinds of mistakes. It's a shame, really."
I turned to him, my vision blurring with anger. "You set this up."
His mouth curled into a slow, smug smile. "That sounds like paranoia, Cleo."
I laughed, but it was hollow. "You've been after my job for months."
Ethan shrugged, all faux innocence. "The numbers don't lie."
I turned back to Vivienne, desperate for some ounce of reason. "You know I didn't do this."
For the first time, Vivienne hesitated. Then she sighed. "The board has made a decision and their decision is final. Ethan will be handling your accounts from now."
Final. Like the past five years meant nothing.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my face into a neutral mask. "Fine."
With controlled movements, I turned and walked out, keeping my spine straight even as my legs threatened to give out.
Back in my office, I grabbed a box and started throwing my things, I knew I needed to leave quickly before I did something regrettable like chucking an overpriced sculpture at his head.
The crisp New York air hit me like a slap. My job was slipping through my fingers, and I had no idea what to do next.
I pulled into the driveway of the apartment I shared with my boyfriend Josh, feeling the exhaustion settle in my bones. Unlocking the door, I stepped inside, expecting the usual, Josh hunched over his laptop, some new gadget spread across the counter.
Instead, I noticed the first warning sign. Clothes, his clothes and another which I couldn't quite recognize were strewn across the living room floor, as if they'd been stripped off in a hurry.
"Harder! Yes please!!" The sounds of moans echoed from the bedroom, an uninvited symphony that shattered the last remnants of my day.
"No." The word slipped from my lips, a desperate plea as I moved toward the bedroom, each step heavier than the last. The moans grew louder, mingled with breathy whispers, and I felt my heart racing.
"Oh, God, yes!"
The voice, her voice sent ice through my veins.
I pushed the door open, and there they were, Josh tangled in sheets with a woman I didn't recognize, both oblivious to the world outside their little bubble of betrayal. The reality of it hit me like a brick wall. I stumbled back, my breath hitching in my throat, the pieces of my life crumbling into dust around me.
Frozen, rooted to the spot as my heart shattered, I realized I had a choice to make. I knew I had to leave because if I stayed one second longer, I would commit a felony and I was already out of a job.
For a moment, I was frozen in place. My brain simply refused to process what my eyes were seeing.
Josh. In our bed. With another woman. The sheets tangled around their limbs, their bodies twisted in a mess of sweat and betrayal. His hands, the same hands that had held mine just last night gripped another woman's waist.
And the sounds, God, the sounds. A strangled laugh bubbled up in my throat, but it came out as more of a wheeze. Because this? This was absurd.
The movement must have caught his attention because suddenly, Josh's head snapped up. His lips were still parted, his breath ragged, but his eyes locked onto mine with pure, unfiltered panic.
"Oh my Gosh!." The woman blonde, tan, and completely unbothered let out a startled gasp and scrambled for the sheets, as if modesty still mattered at this point. Josh, to his credit, at least had the decency to look like a deer in the headlights.
"Cleo," he started, his voice hoarse. "This, this isn't" "If you finish that sentence with 'what it looks like,' I will throw your gaming laptop out the window." My voice came out eerily calm, even though my insides felt like they were combusting. Josh blinked rapidly, sitting up, the sheets pooling around his waist.
"I, babe this isn't how I wanted you to find out"
"NO." I held up a hand, my palm shaking. "Do not babe me. You lost the right to that the second you decided to play naked Twister with.." I turned my gaze gesturing to the blonde, who had the audacity to look annoyed. "Who the hell even are you?" She smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
"Jessica." Jessica. Of course.
"Well, Jessica," I said, my voice sickly sweet. "Do yourself a favor and get the fuck out of here before I make you." Jessica let out a scoff and threw Josh a look.
"Is she serious?" Josh ran a hand through his already-messy hair, looking like he wanted to sink into the mattress.
"Jess, maybe you should" Jessica didn't wait for him to finish. She rolled her eyes, muttered something under her breath about drama, and gathered her clothes. I didn't step aside as she brushed past me, her perfume clogging my senses. The door slammed shut behind her. Then it was just us. Josh had the audacity to sigh like he was the one having a rough day. I let the silence stretch, watching as he fumbled for words. The man who could ramble for hours about coding updates and VR headsets was suddenly speechless. Finally, I crossed my arms.
"Go on, let's have it. Give me your excuse. Make it good."
He swallowed, raking a hand down his face. "Cleo, I never meant for this to happen." I let out a hollow laugh.
"Oh, so she fell on you? Just tripped, completely naked, and whoops, there went your self-control?" Josh scowled, frustration creeping into his voice. "You weren't here, Cleo." I felt my left eye twitch.
"Excuse me?"
"You're always working," he said, pushing himself off the bed. He was still shirtless, and I fought the urge to launch his bedside lamp at his head. "Always at the gallery, always stressed, always putting your job first. And then when you are home, it's like you're not even present. You never had time for us anymore." My blood turned to ice. "Oh, so this is my fault?" "I didn't say that"
"You implied it." I took a step forward, anger burning through me now, stronger than the pain. "You're blaming me for your inability to keep it in your pants? Because I work too much? Because I am out there busting my fucking ass while you sit at home in your stupid little chair tapping on your computer complaining about how hard life is?" Josh's jaw clenched. "That's not fair."
"Oh, fair?" I laughed, high and humorless. "You want to know what's not fair? Getting fired for something I didn't even do. I spent my morning being berated by my boss, humiliated by that smug little weasel Ethan, and now, now, I come home to this? You screwing around with some girl named Jessica or should I say Jess?" I took a breath, my voice shaking. "Do you even realize how pathetic you are?" Josh's face turned red, whether from shame or anger, I didn't care.
"I made a mistake, Cleo."
"No. A mistake is forgetting to buy milk. A mistake is sleeping through your alarm. This is a choice. A series of them actually and in our home? I don't even want to think about how long this has been going on for." He exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what you want me to say." I stared at him, at the man I had once thought I loved. The man I had built a life with, shared dreams with. The man that was supposed to be my safe space. And now, looking at him this weak, selfish excuse for a partner I felt nothing but exhaustion. I turned toward the closet and yanked out a duffel bag.
Josh's brows furrowed. "What are you doing?"
"Baking a hot pie, what does it look like I'm doing?" I started throwing clothes inside, each movement sharp and deliberate.
His eyes widened. "Cleo" "Save it." I turned to him, the finality of my decision settling like stone in my chest. "You don't deserve a breakup speech. You don't even deserve an explanation. You're just… nothing to me now." Josh opened his mouth, but I didn't stay to listen. I grabbed my bag, shoved my keys in my pocket, and walked out the door, slamming it behind me.
The second I stepped outside, the cool night air hit me like a shock to the system. And then, finally, the weight of the day collapsed on me. Fired. Betrayed. Homeless.