“May I remind you, Mrs. Ashcroft, I own Calypso Hall. I get to say who stays and who goes.” “May I remind you, Mr. Corbin, that your director, Lucas Morton, hired me. We signed a contract. I’ve done nothing wrong. The play premieres in two weeks. The backup actress hasn’t even learned the entire play yet. You won’t be able to find a sufficient replacement in time.” “Everyone is replaceable.” “Is that so?” I arch an eyebrow, knowing we’re both thinking about the same people. The people who left glaring holes in our hearts. “Yes.” His nostrils flare. “Everyone.”
