Chapter 1

MACKENZIE

Pro tip: if you're about to get fired, don't wear your favorite red power suit. The dry cleaning bill from stress-sweating through Italian wool is no joke.

"Ms. Gallo, the board appreciates your twenty years of service to Innovatech..."

I tune out the HR drone and focus on the sad desk plant I've kept alive for fifteen years. Longer than my marriage lasted. Speaking of things that are dead, my career is currently being eulogized by someone who started working here when I was already a Director of Innovation Strategy.

"...restructuring after the acquisition..."

The acquisition. Right. Because apparently two decades of successfully integrating tech startups wasn't enough to save me from Drake Enterprises' corporate chopping block. The same Drake Enterprises run by Alexander Drake, Seattle's most eligible tech bachelor—if you're into emotionally unavailable workaholics with perfect hair and a reputation for destroying companies faster than I destroy a plate of my nonna's cannoli.

"...security will escort you out..."

"Sorry, what?" I snap back to attention. "It's my birthday."

Karen from HR blinks. "I'm sorry?"

"It's my forty-second birthday. Today. You're firing me on my birthday." I laugh, but it comes out sounding more like a strangled espresso machine. "That's... that's actually impressive timing."

She shifts in her seat, clearing her throat. "We weren't aware—"

"Obviously." I stand up, smoothing down my suit. Twenty years in tech has taught me one thing: never let them see you sweat. Or cry. Or show any human emotion that might make you seem "too emotional" for leadership. "I assume I can pack up my things?"

Two security guards hover in the doorway like particularly buff bookends. Because clearly, a five-foot-six Italian woman in Louboutins is a major security threat.

"Of course." Karen hands me a cardboard box. "You have thirty minutes."

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