Samuel Grant recoiled, his face flushing an ugly purple as he scrambled backward. He pointed at her with shaking fingers, rage and disbelief twisting his features.
"Isabella, you ungrateful bitch!" he roared. "Do you know what happens when you offend me now? An art exhibition?" He laughed cruelly. "You still want me to fund it?"
He spat the words like poison.
"Dream on!"
Her face was burning hot as she left the office, but there was not a trace of regret in her heart.
People like Samuel Grant deserved to be taught a lesson. Every slap, every kick, had been earned.
But—
When her eyes dropped to the proposal still clenched tightly in her hand, her chest tightened painfully. The art exhibition is probably finished now. Completely hopeless.
She forced the tears back, straightened her spine, and walked toward the exit. Just as she reached the doorway—
Bang.
She crashed straight into something solid.
