Authority with limits.
Vanguard became less centered on me.
And stronger.
That was ironic.
Gregory had believed my illness would make the company easier to steal.
Instead, surviving him taught me how to make it harder for anyone to
control.
Five years after the hospital, Vanguard opened a new studio.
At the entrance, we installed a wall with the names of everyone who had
been with the company more than ten years.
Mine was not larger.
That was intentional.
During the opening, Thomas handed me a glass of sparkling water.
“To doors with locks.”
I laughed.
“You remember that?”
“I remember everything when you say it repeatedly in meetings.”
I raised my glass.
“To doors with locks.”
My life became quieter.
I sold the house Gregory and I had shared.
Not because it legally belonged to him.
Not because I was forced out.
Because every room contained a version of me waiting for footsteps.
