From A Humiliating Bet To The Boss He Can’t Have Chapter 33
On the first anniversary of the project’s launch, the company held a celebration in Chicago.
The director who had encouraged me to accept the long-term position for the third time was there, too.
Holding a glass, she asked me, “Any regrets?”
I knew she wasn’t asking about work.
“No.”
“Not even once?”
I thought about it.
“When I first got to Chicago, it did feel unfamiliar.”
“But unfamiliar isn’t the same thing as regret.”
I had already moved out of that one-year apartment.
The property documents for my new home had only my name on them.
I bought my car myself, too.
On the wall hung a framed group photo from the successful launch of the project, and on the table sat a school publication Lily had mailed me.
No one had arranged my life for me.
And I had never gone back in tears.
Halfway through the celebration, my lawyer sent one final email.
Grant had decided to withdraw the offer of the property and would no longer attempt to return the cashier’s check.
Attached was a brief note from him.
[I understand now. She doesn’t need me to define what should have belonged to her.]
I read it and told my lawyer to file it away.
A coworker called me over from not far away to cut the cake.
I set down my phone and walked toward the brightest part of the room.
No one asked whose fiancée I was.
No one counted up how much I had taken from someone else.
They called me by my name.
Mara.
Project lead.
The youngest regional director at the Chicago headquarters.
I took the knife and cut the first slice of cake.
As applause rose around me, I suddenly thought of the one-hundred-thousand-dollar check that had sat on the table at the engagement party.
That night, they had put a price on my sincerity.
And it had taken me four years to understand that what was truly priceless was not how much I had sacrificed for someone else.
It was the choice to leave whenever I wanted.