Chapter 2: Revenge

  After my conversation with Selia, it was time to move to the next steps. Two urgent meetings had to happen that day—there was no room for mistakes.

  First on the agenda was Clair, my Vice President. I trusted her above all others in this company; she was the only one who truly mirrored my mindset. Clever, sharp, and resolute, Clair thrived under pressure and navigated even the most intricate situations with ease. We had once trained together in martial arts until a sparring accident left her with a permanent injury to her left arm—a wound that only hardened her resolve. I kept her close not just because she was indispensable, but also because I couldn’t afford to have her as an enemy.

  Clair’s voice cut through the phone like a blade.

  “You’re sure about this?”

  I watched a pigeon collide with my office window, its panicked wings slapping the glass.

  “Brody gets his night. Theodore’s crew will be there with you to ensure she arrives intact. I don’t want her to do something drastic. Understood?”

  “You mean suicide?” Clair asked, her tone neutral yet razor-sharp.

  “Yes.”

  There was a beat of silence—I could almost hear her jaw tightening.

  "But if Brody touches her—" she began.

  “He’ll do worse if we renege,” I snapped.

  “And the other part of the deal?”

  “The trucks will cross the border tonight. The warehouse receives the shipment tomorrow morning.”

  My company, at least on the surface, was a legitimate financial technology firm—a sleek online payment system for seamless transactions. But beneath that fa?ade, we trafficked in something far more valuable: confidential information. We bought, sold, and traded intelligence through our vast network. The products Brody was helping us smuggle were cutting-edge, illegal hardware designed to counter the latest security measures. For now, he was crucial to the operation.

  I glanced over at Selia as I left my office. She sat at her desk, her red-rimmed eyes betraying the tears she’d been holding back. I chose to ignore her and walked away.

  Brody reeked of mothballs and regret when I met him at the docks. His fingernails were bitten raw, and his eyes darted like those of a cornered rat.

  “You’ll drug her,” he insisted, pacing the dim warehouse. “She has to want me.”

  I smirked. Obsession had hollowed him—a puppet with Selia’s name carved into his bones.

  “She’ll be compliant. That’s the deal.”

  His backstory was a tragic cliché. In his youth, he had fallen in love with Selia—a love that was not returned. She’d rejected him for an older boyfriend in military school, a blow that drove him to join the military himself. He eventually rose to the rank of lieutenant general, only to muster the courage to propose to her once more—only to be rejected yet again. Shortly afterward, she married someone else.

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  Her husband’s sudden death in an accident and her parents’ mysterious illnesses had raised red flags for me. The more I dug into Brody’s past, the clearer it became: Brody would do anything for Selia—even orchestrate tragedies to capture her attention. His obsession rendered him both dangerous and useful.

  I’d promised Brody one night with the woman he adored, and in return, I’d received two million dollars upfront along with unrestricted access to my smuggled products. It was a deal that disgusted me, yet one I couldn’t refuse.

  Clair had been instrumental in executing this plan, though she never hid her distaste for Brody. I’d noticed her subtle attempts to delay the arrangement—her reasons remained unclear, but I suspected she harbored her own motives. That’s why I slated her to work with Theodore’s crew, people I trusted implicitly.

  By 6:00 PM, as the office began emptying, exhaustion threatened to overtake me. I forced myself to stay focused. I confirmed the time and location with both Clair and Selia. Everything is in place, I reassured myself. Clair will confirm Selia’s arrival, and in 30 minutes, word will come that the trucks have crossed the border.

  At 9:00 PM, Clair’s call came through.

  “Selia met Brody, but we have another problem,” she reported.

  “What happened?” I demanded.

  “The company is on fire.”

  I paused, thinking quickly. “Let me speak to Theodore. He’s with you, right?”

  “Hold on.” A moment later, Theodore’s voice came through the line.

  “Yes, Boss?”

  "Is this some kind of joke? What is happening?" I asked urgently.

  “No, sir. The fire—it’s bad. It’s coming from the company. We can see it from down here!”

  I instructed, “Stay where you are and keep watching Selia. I’ll handle the fire.”

  As I approached the building, a firefighter stopped me.

  “Are you the owner? You’re lucky—the fire didn’t damage the building, just the trees and plants outside. Likely caused by a cigarette.”

  Relieved but still suspicious, and without being noticed by the firefighters, I decided to investigate. Inside, the power was out; my only light came from my smartphone. As I ventured deeper into the building, I heard footsteps.

  “Who’s there?” I called out. No response followed.

  Then dizziness struck. My knees buckled as I realized—too late—that I’d been poisoned. I staggered toward the exit but collapsed before I could reach it.

  I awoke tied in a T-position, arms and legs bound tightly in my own office. Before me stood Clair, holding a large, impeccably clean ax.

  “What is the meaning of this?” I demanded, striving for a steady tone.

  “Oh, hi, Boss,” she replied with a cold, unsettling smile.

  “You haven’t killed me yet, which means you want something. Let’s settle this quickly.”

  “You’re mistaken, Boss. This isn’t a negotiation—this is your end.”

  Her voice rose, laced with bitterness. “Do you remember when you broke my arm? When you shattered my dreams?”

  Before I could answer, agony exploded in my left arm. I screamed as she severed it cleanly with the ax. The room spun as she cauterized the wound, ensuring I wouldn’t bleed out.

  “Not so fast, Boss,” she hissed. “You’re not dying yet. You kept attacking me when I was down—now it’s my turn.”

  She stepped back, releasing me. I collapsed to the floor, my vision blurring, yet I forced myself to stand—fueled by raw anger and desperation.

  “How dare you?” I roared, grabbing a glass cup with my remaining hand. Concealed by the desk, it went unnoticed as I staggered toward her.

  “Was the mission a success?” I demanded, stalling for time.

  "I didn't let her meet Brody, I ruined your plans, and I will ruin whatever is left after you die. You ain't gonna die in peace—you will die knowing that everything you lived for is now destroyed."

  In a sudden burst of energy, I hurled a glass cup—not directly at her, but at the wall beside her. I expected her to instinctively block the incoming projectile with her ax, and that’s exactly what she did. The impact shattered the glass against the wall and her ax, sending shards flying. The broken glass momentarily obscured her vision, creating the perfect opening. Seizing the opportunity, I lunged forward and delivered a devastating blow that sent her flying across the room. My strength waned, but I refused to let her recover.

  In one final act of defiance, I drove her head forcefully against the wall. The room fell silent as she crumpled to the ground, her body motionless.