Without an explanation.
About two hours after I got home, my phone rang.
The screen showed:
Mr. Wilson.
For a moment, I thought about ignoring it.
But I answered.
“Emily.”
His voice sounded different.
Softer.
“Yes?”
“Come to the east dock at Hart Lake tonight at seven.”
I froze.
“Why?”
He stayed silent for a few seconds.
Then he said,
“Dress nicely. And don’t tell anyone we’re meeting.”
I literally pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen.
“Mr. Wilson… I don’t understand.”
“I know. Trust me for a few more hours.”
Then he hung up.
At that moment, every terrible possibility crossed my mind.
Why had he fired me in front of everyone, only to ask me to meet him secretly afterward?
Why by a lake?
Why after working hours?
And strangest of all…
Why did I need to dress nicely?
I was almost certain I wasn’t going.
But then I remembered his final words.
“Trust me for a few more hours.”
A little before seven, I arrived at the lake.
Mr. Wilson was already there.
He was wearing a red polo shirt, light-colored shorts, and looked nothing like the stern director I saw every day at work.
“You came,” he said.
“Yes. Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?”
He glanced around.
“First, we need to do something.”
Then he handed his phone to a woman walking nearby.
“Would you mind taking a photo of us?”
I stared at him in confusion.
“A photo?”
“Yes. Just stand next to me and smile.”
At that point, I was becoming uncomfortable.
If someone from the company saw us there, wha
