Larissa's POV The cardboard box in my lap felt heavier than it should have. I ran my fingers along the edges of the box, tracing the old tape sealing it shut. It had been sitting in Patterson Financial’s storage room for over a month. A collection of everything I had left behind. Office supplies. Old notes. Photos. Little trinkets.Brayden drove in silence, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him, the smooth drawl of the song on the radio filling the space between us.“I can’t believe you threatened to take the matter to her supervisor.” I said, remembering how the receptionist’s face had frozen in a mixture of disbelief and fear. Instantly, all traces of hesitation had been wiped from her continence, and she had gone to get the box of my things.“I don’t make threats, Larissa. I make promises.”I scoffed. “Schematics. Either way, that was a very Karen thing to do.”“What?”“You know Karen? A typical middle-aged white woman who usually asks to see the manager or reports employees to
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