I was not in the room.
Gordon sent me the recording afterward.
I listened once, closed the file, and returned to my own work.
Outside my apartment, Portland rain moved across the windows.
My coffee was warm this time.
My laptop held no secret folder, no copied invoices, and no messages requiring me to save people who resented the sound of my voice but depended on the strength of my name.
They had tried to cut ties while keeping the benefit of my signature.
Instead, they learned that loyalty without respect was not a bond.
It was leverage.
And the moment I stopped giving it away, I was no longer the outsider.
I was free.
