Roses for My Mother's Grave, Divorce Papers for Your Funeral - Chapter 86: Chapter 86
You are reading Roses for My Mother's Grave, Divorce Papers for Your Funeral, Chapter 86: Chapter 86. Read more chapters of Roses for My Mother's Grave, Divorce Papers for Your Funeral.
After I pulled out of Jace's company, I was so caught up in launching my own that I didn't have the time—or the energy—to keep tabs on Jace and Blaire.
Then, two months later, Tatum showed up out of the blue.
The first thing out of her mouth was blunt as hell:
"I'm in. Let's build this thing together."
I blinked at her, caught totally off guard.
"You've got a solid job. Why the hell do you wanna jump ship and join my scrappy little startup?"
Sure, my company was just getting off the ground.
And even if Jace's firm was heading downhill, it still had name recognition in the industry.
So yeah, Tatum popping up like that? Didn't see it coming.
She rolled her eyes hard.
"You have no idea. It's been a shitshow lately."
"Jace's mom and his trophy wife are dead set on turning the company into a damn family circus."
"Shoving their freeloading cousins into upper management like it's some kind of nepotism Olympics."
Once she started venting, it was like opening a floodgate.
The girl had clearly been bottling this up for months.
Turns out that after I left, Jace's mom didn't stop at her initial batch of "relatives." Nope.
She and Blaire kept stuffing the org chart with more and more of their useless family members.
This right here is why people without brains should never be given power.
Hand ‘em a little money and suddenly they think they're royalty.
What really threw me, though, was that Jace just let it all happen.
I guess he really has lost his damn mind.
That's the thing—hang around idiots long enough and you start to sound like one.
It's not just that they brought in their people.
It's that they replaced the core management team.
The ones who'd actually built the company from the ground up.
And Jace just sat there, letting it happen.
It's like he was begging for a pillow to fall asleep on—and his mommy and wife were right there to hand it to him.
So yeah, Tatum came today not just for herself, but to ask on behalf of the rest of the OG management: if they join me now, does that make them founding partners?
Hell yes, it does.
Three months later, we officially launched the company.
The night before the opening, we all went out to dinner—me, Tatum, and the rest of the founding crew.
Tatum raised her glass and looked at me sideways.
"You seriously let it all go?"
I gave her a look, took a sip, and let the alcohol loosen my tongue as I walked her through everything that had happened.
Her face said it all—equal parts horror and pity.
"Jesus, you really went through it. Thank God you got the hell out."
I patted her shoulder.
"Girl, I always say—some houses just ain't meant for people with blessings."
And just like that, she perked up, eyes practically sparkling.
"Sloane, I know some guys. Single. Younger. Hot. You want one? I'll set you up."
I rolled my eyes at her.
"I'm thirty, you matchmaking maniac."
She was already scrolling through her phone.
"Exactly! Thirty is the start of Act Two."
"You suffered for three decades—now it's your turn to thrive, Sloane freakin' Whittaker."
Before I could shut her down, she shoved another drink in my hand.
"To hell with cheating bastards and side chicks! Cheers to the damn glow-up!"
Then, two months later, Tatum showed up out of the blue.
The first thing out of her mouth was blunt as hell:
"I'm in. Let's build this thing together."
I blinked at her, caught totally off guard.
"You've got a solid job. Why the hell do you wanna jump ship and join my scrappy little startup?"
Sure, my company was just getting off the ground.
And even if Jace's firm was heading downhill, it still had name recognition in the industry.
So yeah, Tatum popping up like that? Didn't see it coming.
She rolled her eyes hard.
"You have no idea. It's been a shitshow lately."
"Jace's mom and his trophy wife are dead set on turning the company into a damn family circus."
"Shoving their freeloading cousins into upper management like it's some kind of nepotism Olympics."
Once she started venting, it was like opening a floodgate.
The girl had clearly been bottling this up for months.
Turns out that after I left, Jace's mom didn't stop at her initial batch of "relatives." Nope.
She and Blaire kept stuffing the org chart with more and more of their useless family members.
This right here is why people without brains should never be given power.
Hand ‘em a little money and suddenly they think they're royalty.
What really threw me, though, was that Jace just let it all happen.
I guess he really has lost his damn mind.
That's the thing—hang around idiots long enough and you start to sound like one.
It's not just that they brought in their people.
It's that they replaced the core management team.
The ones who'd actually built the company from the ground up.
And Jace just sat there, letting it happen.
It's like he was begging for a pillow to fall asleep on—and his mommy and wife were right there to hand it to him.
So yeah, Tatum came today not just for herself, but to ask on behalf of the rest of the OG management: if they join me now, does that make them founding partners?
Hell yes, it does.
Three months later, we officially launched the company.
The night before the opening, we all went out to dinner—me, Tatum, and the rest of the founding crew.
Tatum raised her glass and looked at me sideways.
"You seriously let it all go?"
I gave her a look, took a sip, and let the alcohol loosen my tongue as I walked her through everything that had happened.
Her face said it all—equal parts horror and pity.
"Jesus, you really went through it. Thank God you got the hell out."
I patted her shoulder.
"Girl, I always say—some houses just ain't meant for people with blessings."
And just like that, she perked up, eyes practically sparkling.
"Sloane, I know some guys. Single. Younger. Hot. You want one? I'll set you up."
I rolled my eyes at her.
"I'm thirty, you matchmaking maniac."
She was already scrolling through her phone.
"Exactly! Thirty is the start of Act Two."
"You suffered for three decades—now it's your turn to thrive, Sloane freakin' Whittaker."
Before I could shut her down, she shoved another drink in my hand.
"To hell with cheating bastards and side chicks! Cheers to the damn glow-up!"
End of Roses for My Mother's Grave, Divorce Papers for Your Funeral Chapter 86. Continue reading Chapter 87 or return to Roses for My Mother's Grave, Divorce Papers for Your Funeral book page.