Chapter 4

I called Marik from outside. Asked him to bring down my coat and my things. Everything he could carry. I couldn’t go back to the department I had given four years of my life to.

How was I supposed to look the girls in the eye? What would I say? How could I explain why I’d lost the contract and blown our prospects?

The accusations Merzlyaeva had thrown in my face had literally destroyed me. Especially her icy “You’re fired.”

But I’d be lying if I said they surprised me. No. I had always suspected that Regina lived by rules far removed from ordinary people’s idea of right and wrong. But as long as those rules didn’t touch me, I tried not to notice them and took charge of my small department instead. In the end, we were only hired workers, and the rumors about exactly how our owner had gotten the advertising agency (and whom she had stepped over on the way) remained rumors.

But hearing that Merzlyaeva had, as it turned out, expected similar steps from me too… Remembering what exactly she had reproached me for in the presence of her son, while he stayed silent, was disgusting and painful.

Yes, I had once come to her off the street, and she had hired me. But not because she pitied me, and certainly not because she was a kind soul. It was because she couldn’t afford experienced specialists, and I agreed to start small.

And I had never come to her as a beggar. I had brought a diploma and knowledge with me. Energy the agency lacked, and also a huge desire to create unique projects. The best advertising! And I had worked honestly for the good of Regina Style.

So why had I stumbled today of all days?

Yes, the project with the Koreans had looked like the jackpot, was worth several million, and could have lasted more than one year. But I had tried to win it…

Mr. Song, co-founder of the Korean brand Choki Woki, had behaved like a wealthy businessman. All that nonsense about his hints and desserts was garbage. Regina’s pathetic attempt to justify failure. Resentment because competitors had outmaneuvered us.

But whatever nasty things Merzlyaeva had said, she was right about one thing: I was the one who had prepared the lion’s share of the presentation. I was the one who had held the Koreans’ attention. I was the one who had built the cooperation strategy, and in the end, I was the one they had rejected.

I really had been unconvincing and let everyone down.

Had I overestimated myself?

Maybe.

But I had been sure we would succeed, and in that certainty, it never would have occurred to me to share information with competitors. Why would I? Especially since I had no ties to Imperial-CUBE at all. I simply couldn’t have, because ever since university, I had not been able to stand Max Orlov.

Of course, I had never told anyone that, not even Marik. We were all adults, and everyone had their secrets… But accusing me of knowing the contract would collapse and therefore being late, after my devotion to the agency, was vile.

How had the Merzlyaevs even come up with something like that?

How… how could they fire me?!

And why still hadn’t Arnold come downstairs and found me?

 
By the time Maryan arrived, I had already managed to freeze in the parking lot. A light snow had started. My leg was aching badly, so I sat right on the bumper of my Porsche and wrapped my arms around myself.

Subbota came out of the building with his jacket open, two bags on his shoulders and a motorcycle helmet in his hand. When he reached me, he held out my coat and set one of the bags on the trunk.

“Gelya, why didn’t you get in the car? You’ll catch cold.”

“Don’t ask,” I answered him in a dead voice. “And I’m Lina, remember? We agreed.”

I took the coat, slid off the trunk, and put it on. My hands were shaking, and I was ashamed to look at Marik.

“At work, you’re the director with attitude, Vetrova. Here, you’re the girl I’ve known forever. And stop sniffling. Get in the car and tell me what happened like a human being.”

I didn’t want to remember. The last thing I needed was to burst into tears.

“So you already know I was fired?”

Marik nodded sadly.

“Yes. Regina is tearing the place apart upstairs. Everyone’s lying low like mice. At this rate, she’ll demolish half the agency by evening. She’s already driven her secretary to tears; she and Allochka are sobbing together. She said you blew the contract with the Koreans and sold information to Imperial-CUBE…”

“That’s a lie!” burst out of me in protest, but it sounded utterly pathetic.

“I know. She also warned everyone that if anyone dares mention your name in front of her or stays in contact with you, they can say goodbye to their job on the spot.”

 
I took my car key fob out of my purse and froze with it in my hand, unable to do anything. The news shocked me more than the firing itself.

My beautiful castle of success hadn’t merely cracked. It had turned out to be made of sand and was crumbling right before my eyes.

Soon even my name would be gone, never mind a road back.

“I’m sorry, Maryan,” I breathed helplessly. “I didn’t expect this from Regina. Hurting you and the girls was not on my New Year’s wish list.”

Marik took the key fob from me and opened the Porsche himself. Leaving the door open, he went around the car and shoved my bag inside. Sitting in the passenger seat, he fixed me with a sympathetic look.

“So are you going to tell me what happened in the conference hall, Gelya? Get in, or soon the whole Galaktika will be staring at us from the windows.”

I got in. Slammed the door. And told him.

 
Not everything. I mentioned Merzlyaeva’s complaints about the “failed weekend with Mr. Song” sparingly. It was awkward to talk about something like that to a guy, but Subbota guessed some of it himself.

We were quiet for a while.

“Believe it or not, Angelina, this is for the best,” Marik said unexpectedly. “Someone had to break the vicious circle of ‘you and the Merzlyaevs’ before they dissolved you into themselves. So why not let the Koreans do it?” He looked at me. “Do you seriously think your life is over?”

I didn’t think it. I knew it.

“Something like that,” I answered. “Regina will drag my reputation through the mud if I show up anywhere. And you?”

“Well, obviously finding a new job will be difficult. I liked it here.”

I blinked at Marik. And yes, through tears.

“Subbota, please tell me you didn’t decide to quit because of me,” I muttered. “Don’t!”

“Of course not!” the man snorted. Raising his hand, he laid his fingers on the helmet and looked out the windshield. “I wouldn’t even think of it because of you! But because of the conditions? Yes.” He suddenly became very serious and very angry. “I’m not Merzlyaeva’s little omega for her to decide who I’m allowed to talk to!”

I had been afraid to ask, but of course I had understood as soon as I saw the motorcycle helmet and second bag in Maryan’s hand that he had left the agency too.

“We’ll think of something, Subbota. I promise!” I promised my friend, not feeling any confidence in it at all.

The kind of confidence I heard in his reply:

“I don’t doubt it for a second, Vetrova. Just keep your chin up!”

*** 

Marik and I said goodbye in the parking lot and, agreeing to call each other, went home.