Her Five Year Secret Resigns

The afternoon I was passed over for promotion for the third time in two years, the heat radiating off the sidewalk was thick enough to choke on.

I crouched by the glass revolving doors of the King Tower, sweat soaking through the collar of my dress shirt, and pulled out my phone.

"It’s ninety-five degrees out here," I texted my girlfriend. "Any chance a benevolent CEO named Danielle King might spare a seat in her town car for a stranded employee?"

Ten minutes later, her black Mercedes-Maybach pulled out of the underground garage.