I’m standing in the empty office, briefcase in hand, the echo of my own voice still ringing from the speech I just gave—'I’m starting my own agency!'—even though only one person believed me. Dorothy. Just 26, a single mom with a job she doesn’t love, but she followed me anyway. Now, three months later, I’m broke, my marriage to Avery is over, and the only client I have is Rod Tidwell, screaming at me on the phone again.

'Jerry! I need that ten million, man! My son needs braces! My wife’s tired of ramen! You said you’d help me!' His voice cracks, not with anger, but fear.

I look at the stack of unpaid bills on my desk. Dorothy’s sitting across from me, holding Ray, trying not to cry. I promised her stability. I promised Rod loyalty.

My phone rings. It’s the Cardinals. They’re offering $750,000. Less than a tenth of what he wants.

I take a breath. 'Rod… they made an offer.'

Silence. Then: 'Is that all you got me, Jerry? Is that all I’m worth to you?'

I glance at Dorothy. She nods, gently.

I press the speakerphone. 'No, Rod. That’s not all you’re worth. And I’m not done fighting for you.'

But the truth is, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.