Their Answer

I asked Adrian about the rumor when he returned.

He set his phone down.

“I can’t verify Creston’s plans. We’ve heard the same industry talk. I would not make your decision based on it.”

“What would you base it on?”

“The written terms they gave you. And whether you believe they can support the work they still expect.”

That was less dramatic than a secret document proving everything. It was also harder to argue with.

After breakfast, Maya drove me to Nexora’s office.

Nobody had prepared a welcome banner. A project manager was arguing with an engineer at a whiteboard, and someone in the kitchen had burned toast. It smelled like an actual workplace, which reassured me more than a staged tour would have.

Adrian introduced me to Leah Chen, the chief operating officer.

She did not ask whether I could bring my customers.

She asked, “When implementation and sales disagree about readiness, who gets the last word on your team?”

“At Verity? Whoever has the most senior person on the email.”

“And what would you prefer?”

“A documented decision with someone responsible for the risk. Not a late-night call asking me to repair a promise I wasn’t allowed to review.”

Leah pulled out a chair.

“Tell me how you would build that.”

We talked for forty minutes.

She challenged me twice. I disagreed with her once. Neither of us mistook disagreement for disrespect.

At ten, I took my legal consultation in an empty meeting room. The lawyer, Elise Grant, explained what she could conclude from the documents and what needed further review. My employment terms did not contain the restriction Derek might wish they did. Confidentiality still mattered. So did the difference between changing employers and taking company materials.

She suggested clear resignation language, a practical notice offer, and routing threats through counsel instead of arguing in a doorway.

The advice was not a magic shield. It was a plan.

Next came the benefits call. I confirmed the coverage dates and asked how to keep Noah’s treatment uninterrupted during the change. I wrote down names, reference numbers, and the gap I would need to bridge.

I could manage it.

That realization almost made me cry again.

Maya found me afterward with a calculator open on my phone.

“Well?”

“I can manage it.”

“The money?”

“All of it.”

She leaned against the doorframe.

“Good. Because I want you here, but I don’t want you agreeing just because yesterday was awful.”

I looked through the glass at the engineer from the kitchen helping the project manager erase half the whiteboard.

“I want this job.”

“Then say yes to this job.”

I did.

Adrian and I signed the final offer after the remaining terms were clarified. We agreed on a start date twelve days away. Nexora would not ask me to begin while I was still obligated elsewhere. Any earlier release would be documented.

Before I left, he walked me to the elevator.

“You don’t need to make a scene on our behalf,” he said.

“I wasn’t planning one.”

“I mean it. This is a hiring decision, not an acquisition of your old customer list.”

“I understand.”

“Good. And Cat?”

“Yes?”

“Keep the afternoon clear if you need it.”

I thought of Denise taking Noah to school because I had been afraid to ask my own employer for an hour.

“Thank you.”

Back in my car, I placed the signed offer inside my bag. Then I opened Patricia’s email.

The responsibilities were attached.

Every major duty remained. There were new ones, too: process documentation, knowledge transfer, training for a centralized service team whose manager had not yet been named.

The title was now Regional Client Support Lead.

They had removed director from the heading and left director-sized work underneath it.

I sat in the parking lot for five minutes, but I did not cry.

I called Noah’s school to confirm I would collect him at three.

Then I drove back to Creston.

At my desk, Maria stood when she saw me. David looked up from a spreadsheet. Paula had headphones around her neck and worry in her eyes.

“How did it go?” Maria whispered.

“I have a meeting with Patricia. I’ll tell you afterward.”

Derek was already in Innovation when I arrived. He had taken the chair at the head of the small table, though it put him directly beneath the vent he had complained about all winter.

Patricia had a folder with my name on it.

“Have you reached a decision?” Derek asked.

“I have a few questions first.”

He sighed.

“Catherine, this does need to conclude today.”

“It will. Who will be accountable for the Clover implementation next month?”

“We’ll distribute the work appropriately.”

“That wasn’t my question. The customer requested a named implementation lead. Who will that be?”

“We’re addressing it.”

“And Alder’s renewal?”

“Also being addressed.”

“By the centralized team I’m being asked to train?”

Patricia looked at the attachment in front of her.

Derek’s smile thinned.

“Those relationships belong to the company.”

“Then the company should have a plan for them.”

“You’re becoming unnecessarily confrontational.”

I felt the old instinct rise: soften my voice, make him comfortable, turn a question into a suggestion.

I let it pass.

“I’m asking about responsibilities you want me to retain at forty percent of my current salary.”

“The role is evolving.”

“Will regional support still exist here in eight months?”

His eyes sharpened.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I’m asking you.”

“Future organizational decisions are confidential.”

“Then you’re asking me to accept the pay cut without knowing how long the position will last.”

Patricia moved a pen beside the folder. Once. Then again.

Derek leaned forward.

“You have a mortgage and a child, Catherine. I suggest you focus on the offer in front of you.”

My gold cuff rested against the table. I looked at it until the anger settled into something I could use.

“I have focused on it.”

“Then tell us whether you’re accepting the terms or leaving.”

I reached into my bag, past the offer letter they did not know existed.

“I’ve decided to leave.”