A message had been sent from my account at 1 a.m.
“I’M TURNING DOWN THE OFFER. I’m not interested in you. Don’t ever write here again, you [expletive]!”
“But I didn’t write this,” I whispered to the empty room.
There’s only one person who knew my phone password, and he was awake when I fell asleep.
“But I didn’t write this.”
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I wanted to scream! I was furious with Norman for trying to destroy my dream.
But right then, I decided I was going to teach him a lesson he would never forget.
I walked into the kitchen. Norman sat there reading the newspaper, whistling cheerfully, looking relaxed and pleased with himself. There was no sign of last night’s bad mood.
He looked as happy as if he’d just won the lottery.
“Morning,” he said without looking up.
I was going to teach him a lesson he would never forget.
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“Hi, honey,” I said sweetly.
I knew not to confront him. If I exploded then, I’d lose control of the situation.
Doing nothing would cost me my future, so I decided to do something smarter.
That day, I took my lunch break sitting in my car with the doors locked. My hands shook as I called the clinic. I told them my phone had been hacked. It cost me pride and credibility.
I could hear the hesitation on the other end of the line, and I pushed through it, anyway.
By the time the call ended, my throat hurt from holding back tears.
It cost me pride and credibility.
***
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