For illustrative purposes only
The Interview
I didn’t want revenge. Not the dramatic kind where you humiliate someone in a crowded room while everyone applauds.
What I wanted was quieter. Precise. I wanted Grant to understand consequences.
“Let me,” I told my dad.
He nodded once, as if he had expected that answer. “All right. But it will be done professionally.”
The HR director scheduled Grant for a final-round interview two days later. They didn’t tell him who the senior leadership panel would be. They rarely did.
On the day of the interview, I wore a simple navy dress and tied my hair back. Noah stayed with my aunt. I practiced breathing in the bathroom mirror because I refused to let Grant see me shake.
The conference room had a long glass table, a pitcher of water, and a view of downtown. My dad sat at one end, expression neutral. The HR director sat beside him. I took the third seat with a folder in front of me.
Grant arrived five minutes early, confident, smiling like he owned the room. He looked healthier than he had in months—new haircut, expensive watch, the same grin he used to flash at waiters to get free drinks.
“Good morning,” he said.
