Chapter 7 - The Price of Independence
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Brad stared at me through the gap in the door, his eyes wide with disbelief. “She’s an old friend, Kate! She has connections to half the gallery owners in San Francisco! My father is closing a deal with her uncle next month! I couldn't just create a scene at a public charity event!”
“And there it is,” I said, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “The cost was too high. It’s always too high when it comes to standing up for me.”
“That’s not fair!” he snapped, his composure slipping into anger. “I supported you! I paid for half of this studio! I introduced you to my mother’s interior designer! I’ve backed every project you’ve touched for two years!”
“And you used every single dollar to buy my silence whenever your family stepped on me,” I fired back. “Well, I paid off your portion of the rent this morning, Brad. My landlord has the wire transfer. You don't own a single square inch of this space anymore.”
Brad froze, his hand tightening around the velvet ring box. “You what?”
“You’re off the lease. You’re out of my business. And you’re out of my life.”
“Kate, you can't afford this place on your own!” Brad yelled, stepping forward as I began to push the door shut. “Your spring collection is three months away! If you don't have my family’s backing, the buyers won't even come to your preview!”
“Then I’ll sell my clothes out of the back of my trunk,” I said softly.
I clicked the door shut and engaged the heavy deadbolt.
May you like
On the other side of the door, Brad stood in silence for nearly two full minutes. Finally, I heard his leather shoes squeak against the hallway concrete as he turned around and walked away.
I rested my back against the cold steel door, closed my eyes, and took a deep, steadying breath. The battle had begun.
