He looked up at me from below. For the first time in all these years—without any sense of superiority. Fear, anger, and a desperate attempt to find some way out collided in his eyes.

He looked at me from below, as if gravity itself had shifted. For the first time in all those yearsno superiority lingered in his eyes. Instead, they spun with fear, rage, and a desperate longing for escape. He used to press hard in these moments. Nowhe didnt.

What do you want? he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. Money? Say an amount. Ill fix everything. We can come to terms, surely.

I allowed myself a pausenot theatrical, but deliberate. The kind one takes before sealing the annual report and signing the last sheet.

You still dont understand, Edward, I said calmly. I dont need your money.

He blinked. That unsettled him more than a shout ever could.

Then what? Revenge? You want to ruin me? His voice rose again, uncertain, echoing off the kitchen walls.

No. I want back what is mine. And to finish this.

I stood, walked to the cabinet, and pulled out a slim folder. Grey, unlabelledthe kind left under old contracts and tax reports. Hed never opened it. To him, it was just Annas accounting nonsense.

I placed it on the table and opened it.

Here, I pointed to the first sheet, are the loan contracts. Personal. You borrowed from the company. A lot. In your name. Temporarily, as you liked to say.

I turned the page.

These are the reconciliation records. All debts acknowledged.

Another sheet.

And this is the addendum. If assets are siphoned off unilaterally, the debt becomes immediately due.

He turned pale, so much that the freckles on his nosewhich once seemed endearingnow stood out painfully.

You you forged these?

No, I shook my head. You signed them. At different times. In different moods. Sometimes drunk. Sometimes rushing for a meeting that started after nine at night.

He jumped up.

This is blackmail!

This is bookkeeping, Edward, I looked directly at him. Youve never understood the difference.

He began pacing around the kitchen, running his hand through his hair.

Mary she knew nothing Its you! You planned it!

Mary knew enough, I replied. She knew you were almost free and almost everything had been transferred. For her, that was plenty.

I sat againthis time, directly across from him.

Theres a choice, I continued. First: we go to court. The gift is voided. Then come the audits. HMRC. Crown Prosecution Service. Your reputation. Your new life. Everythingwiped out.

And the second? he whispered.

The second is simpler. We sign an agreement. You leave the business voluntarily. Transfer me your share. No scandals.

He laughedshort, hysterical.

And Im meant to leave with nothing?

No, I answered honestly. Youll have exactly what you offered me. The car. And time to pack your things.

He stared for a long while. In his gaze was everything: hatred, a feeble attempt at pity, and a memory of how we started in a dingy office with an old computer.

I loved you he murmured.

I did not look away.

I loved a person. Not a scheme. Not a traitor. That persons been gone a long time.

He slumped in the chairnot for effect, but truly defeated.

Give me time to think

Youve got twenty-four hours, I said. The solicitor arrives tomorrow at ten.

He nodded. Slowly. Power drained.

The next day, he arrived precisely on time. Sunken face, bloodshot eyes. Mary never called. Or didhe didnt answer.

He signed the papers in silence. His hand trembled.

When everything ended, the solicitor left us alone.

You won, he said dully.

No, I replied. I simply stopped playing a game Ive been playing alone for ages.

He picked up his keys and paused in the hallway.

I thought you were weak

I smiled faintly.

That was your greatest mistake.

The door closed quietly behind him. No slam.

Six months later, the company soared to new heights. I changed the team, swept away all shadowy tricks, organised everything. Business grewcleaner and stronger.

Edward tried to start afresh. By rumournot successfully. Mary left quicklyonce the money vanished, so did her interest.

Sometimes, I glimpsed his name in the news. Each time, quieter. Each time, rarer.

The Reserve fileI deleted. No longer needed.

Sometimes, the sharpest revenge isnt a blow.

Its a precise, icy calculationa sum made long before the end.

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He looked up at me from below. For the first time in all these years—without any sense of superiority. Fear, anger, and a desperate attempt to find some way out collided in his eyes.
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