The Dead Weight Is A CEO
Language: en
Seven years. That’s how long it took for Damian Whitaker to dump me for the seventh time. It was the same script as the previous six: “You’re just not on my level, June.” But this time, I didn’t beg. I didn’t cry. I didn’t offer to change. I just looked him in the eye and said, “Okay.” Three days ago, I froze every credit card in his family’s possession. Two days ago, I repossessed the car he let his sister drive. Yesterday, I moved out of the luxury apartment I’d been paying for. Now, as I sit on a plane bound for a new life, my phone is vibrating non-stop. Forty-seven missed calls. The…