I was still in shock when I walked into Cheryl’s office. The hospital had called that morning. My dad was gone. Heart failure. No warning. Just… gone. I stepped through the doorway, already knowing I was going to have to ask for something she wouldn’t want to give. Cheryl sat behind her oversized desk as always, typing like her keyboard owed her money.
“Hey,” I said, clearing my throat. “I need a few days off. My dad passed this morning. The funeral’s in Indiana, so I’d need four days.”
She didn’t look at me, just kept typing. “You can have two,” she said flatly.
I blinked. “It’s a nine-hour drive each way.”
She finally glanced up, a hint of sympathy nowhere to be found. “You can attend virtually.”
I stared at her, not sure I had heard that right. “This is my dad. He raised me by himself since I was ten. I’m not watching it on Zoom.”
Cheryl leaned back in her chair and sighed as if I was inconveniencing her. “Then you’ll have to choose. We’re in the middle of the Norland migration. Everyone’s expected to be here.”
That hit harder than I thought it would. I’d given three years to this place and built every process they ran on. I worked late, came in sick, and covered for other people’s screw-ups.
“Seriously?” I said, my voice tightening. “I’ve never taken a sick day. Never asked for anything.”
She just shrugged. “This is business. We all make sacrifices.”
I looked down at my hands. They were shaking, not from sadness, but from rage. “Fine,” I said quietly. “Two days.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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