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He looked up at me from below. For the first time in all these years—without superiority. Fear, fury, and a desperate attempt to find any escape clashed in his eyes.
He looked up at me from below, for the first time in all those yearsnot with superiority, but with fear, fury, and a desperate search for escape swirling in his eyes. Previously, during such confrontations, he always managed to corner me. Not now.
“What do you want?” he repeated, this time more quietly. “Is it money? Just say how much. I’ll sort it all out. We can come to an agreement.”
I allowed myself a brief pausenot for effect, but from habit, the sort one takes before closing the annual accounts and signing the last page.
“You still dont understand, Edward,” I said calmly. “I dont want your money.”
He blinked, unsettled by my answer more than if Id shouted.
“Then what? Revenge? You want to ruin me?” His voice grew louder again.
“No. I want back whats mine. Nothing more. And I want it finished.”
I stood, walked to the cabinet, and pulled out a slim, grey folder; unmarked, just as it had always sat at the bottombeneath old contracts and tax returns. He never bothered with it. To him, it was “Annas accounting nonsense.”
I placed it on the table and opened it.
“Here,” I pointed to the first sheet, “are the loan agreements. Personal loans. You borrowed money from the company. A lot. In your own name. Just temporary, as you liked to call it.”
I flipped to the next page.
“Here are the reconciliation statements. All debts acknowledged.”
Another sheet.
“And heres the supplementary agreement. If you drain assets unilaterally, the debt becomes due immediately.”
He turned pale. So pale that the freckles on his nosewhich I once found charmingstood out painfully clear.
“You you forged all this?”
“No,” I shook my head. “You signed them. At different times. In different states. Sometimes drunk. Sometimes rushing out for meetings that began after nine in the evening.”
He shot up from his chair.
“This is blackmail!”
“This is accounting, Edward.” I looked him straight in the eye. “You never understood the difference.”
He started pacing the kitchen, raking a hand through his hair.
“Mary she knew nothing This is your doing! You planned all this!”
“Mary knew enough,” I replied. “She knew you were almost free and almost everything is already transferred. That was plenty for her.”
I sat again, this time across from him.
“You have a choice,” I went on. “First: we go to court. The gift is declared void. Auditors arrive. HMRC. Crown Prosecution. Your reputation. Your new life. All of itgone.”
“And the second?” he whispered.
“The seconds easier. We sign an agreement. You leave the business willingly. You transfer your share to me. No scandal.”
He laughed, short and hysterical.
“So, in your mind, I walk away with nothing?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “Ill leave you exactly what you offered me. The car. And time to pack your belongings.”
He stared at me for a long while. In that look was everything: hatred, a desperate bid for pity, and memories of when we started together in a tiny 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 person disappeared a long time ago.”
He slumped down in his chair, not for showgenuinely spent.
“Give me time to think”
“You have one day,” I said. “Tomorrow at ten, the solicitor arrives.”
He nodded. Slowly. With no strength left.
The next day, he came right on time, with sunken cheeks and reddened eyes. Mary didnt call. Or maybe she didhe simply didnt pick up.
He signed the papers in silence, his hand trembling.
When it was over, the solicitor left us alone.
“You won,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“No,” I replied. “I simply walked away from a game Id been playing by myself for far too long.”
He took his keys and paused in the hallway.
“I thought you were weak”
I smiled slightly.
“That was your biggest mistake.”
The door closed softly behind him. No slam.
Six months later, the company had reached a new level. I changed the team, cleared out the shady schemes, and put everything in order. The business become cleanerstronger.
Edward tried to start again. By all accounts, unsuccessfully. Mary left quicklywithout the money, she was no longer interested.
Occasionally, I saw his name crop up in the news. Each time, more faintly.
I deleted the file marked “Reserve.” It wasnt needed anymore.
Sometimes, the best revenge isnt a blow.
Its the precise, cold calculation made long before the end.
