CHAPTER 35: I AM DONE WITH YOUR SHIT

Eleanor’s POV

The sterile office air felt suffocating. Mira was perched on the edge of my desk, her arms crossed, a storm brewing in her eyes.

"Eleanor, what is going on with you?" she demanded, her voice a low, frustrated hiss. "You’ve been ghosting me these days. I know you’re hiding something. I can feel it."

I kept my eyes glued to my computer screen, pretending to be engrossed in a spreadsheet. "I’m not hiding anything, Mira. I’ve just been... busy."

"Busy?" She reached out and grabbed my hand, yanking it away from the keyboard. The movement was so sudden, the diamond on my finger caught the fluorescent light, sending a cheap, glittering spark across the room. "Busy getting engaged? To who, Eleanor? How did I miss this part?"

I stared at the ring. I’d completely forgotten I keep wearing it. It felt like a shackle, a grotesque reminder of the nightmare at my parents’ house.

"It’s... it’s Dickson," I mumbled, the admission tasting like ash.

Mira’s face went from concerned to utterly horrified. "Dickson?" she repeated, her voice climbing an octave. "You mean the same Dickson who is literally engaged to your sister? Are you serious right now? Are you still holding onto him after everything he’s done to you?" The disappointment in her voice was a physical blow.

I opened my mouth to explain, to tell her about the threats, the coercion, but door to my office flew open with a force that rattled the glass walls.

Speak of the devil.

Dickson stood there, his face a thundercloud of fury. He didn’t even glance at Mira. His eyes were locked on me.

"Mira," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "I need to speak with Eleanor privately. Now."

Mira looked from his enraged face to my terrified one. Her expression was a complex mix of worry, confusion, and anger. Slowly, she walked out, but she didn’t go far.

She stopped just outside the door, arms crossed, watching us through the glass. A few other coworkers had stopped their work, their curious eyes darting toward my office, whispers already beginning.

Dickson slammed the door shut, though the transparent walls offered no privacy.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he seethed, leaning over my desk, invading my space. "First, you disgrace yourself and my future in-laws at your family home, and then you have the audacity to ignore my messages? My calls? Do you want me to show up at your apartment again? Is that what this is? A game? Why do you insist on making everything so difficult?"

He was insane. Completely and utterly insane. The terror of last night, the helplessness, the rage at being trafficked—it all coalesced into a white-hot point inside me.

This man, with his petty demands and controlling threats, was nothing compared to what I’d just survived.

"Shut up,"

He froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What did you just say to me?"

"I said shut up," I repeated, louder this time. I stood up, meeting his gaze head-on. The coworkers outside were staring openly now. I didn’t care. "I have told you, over and over again, we have nothing to offer each other. You broke up with me. You are engaged to my sister. You have no right to demand anything from me. Not my time, not my body, nothing."

His face contorted in confusion and rage. "Have you bumped your head? Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?"

"I’m talking to a dimwit named Dickson who seems to think he’s the center of my universe," I shot back, my voice steady despite the adrenaline screaming through me.

I didn’t stop there. I walked around my desk until we were inches apart, close enough to see the furious confusion in his eyes.

"You need to see this clearly," I said, my voice dropping to a low, venomous whisper. "Since you’re clearly too short-sighted and self-absorbed to understand anything that isn’t directly about you. Look at my face. See the rage? This isn’t a game. I am done. Done compromising, done being used for your benefit, done having my feelings trampled on by you and your psychotic fiancée."

I saw a flicker of genuine shock in his eyes. He was never used to this.

"I don’t even understand how I fell for you," I continued, the words pouring out, laced with two years of pent-up resentment. "It makes me sick to think I wasted two years of my life on you. You and Priscilla are perfect for each other. You deserve each other’s toxicity."

His shock morphed back into fury. He leaned in, his voice a menacing growl meant only for me. "You need to be very careful, Eleanor. Or have you forgotten so quickly? I have the power to ruin you. I can make one call and that friend of yours—Mira—spends the rest of her life in a cell."

My eyes flickered to the door. Mira was still there, her face pale with worry. The threat still held its power, its cold dread. But it was eclipsed by a newer, hotter fury. I had faced down traffickers. I would not be cowed by this pathetic man.

I looked back at him, a slow, cold smile spreading across my face. It was a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "Go ahead."

He blinked, thrown off balance. "What?"

"Go ahead. Ruin her," I said, my voice chillingly calm. "And the second you do, I will go straight to the board of directors. I will tell them everything. I designed the Serpent’s Kiss. Every turn, every calculation, every safety protocol. I have the original drafts. I have the digital files with time stamps that prove I created them months before you ’miraculously’ presented them as your own."

I saw the blood drain from his face. His confidence wavered.

"Your reputation will be ash," I promised, my voice barely a whisper but echoing with certainty. "And if it’s not, I will spend every waking moment making sure it is. You go after Mira, and I go after you. If she enters a prison cell, I will dedicate my life to proving that every single notable thing you’ve ever submitted to the higher-ups was stolen from me. Because you don’t have the brain capacity to think of anything more complex than how to tie your own shoes."

I took a step back, my point made. The office was utterly silent.

"Get out of my office,"

Dickson’s face, pale with the shock of my threat, flushed a mottled red. He drew himself up, trying to reclaim some shred of dignity. "You forget, Eleanor. I’m the one who brought you into this position. I can take it away just as easily."

"I don’t care," I said, the words feeling incredibly true. A job wasn’t worth my soul.

He took a step toward the door, then turned back, a last, pathetic attempt to salvage his pride. "When you finally calm down and realize the magnitude of your mistake, don’t you dare come running back to me."

I just gave him a blank, utterly unimpressed stare.

He stormed out of my office, the glass wall shuddering in its frame. I followed him out, not to chase him. The entire floor was watching, a sea of wide eyes and hushed whispers.

"Dickson," I called out, my voice ringing in the silent office.

He stopped and turned, a smug, proud look already spreading across his face. He thought I’d cracked. He thought I was coming to apologize.

Slowly, I twisted the diamond ring off my finger. I held it up between my thumb and forefinger, letting the fluorescent lights glint off its cheap surface.

"Take your trash with you," I said, my voice loud and clear. "Or I’d be more than happy to dispose of this fake for you."

He stood there, frozen, too stunned and humiliated to move.

Mira stepped forward, a fierce grin on her face. "I’ve got it." She plucked the ring from my fingers, took a dramatic basketball stance, and with a perfect arc, shot it across the room. It landed with a satisfying clink in a metal trash can.

"Yes!" Mira pumped her fist.

The murmuring from the coworkers grew louder, a mix of shock and barely suppressed glee.

Dickson’s fury finally broke through his stupor. His eyes bulged. "Consider yourself dismissed! Effective immediately! You’ve been slacking on your duties, refusing direct orders, and showing gross insubordination to a senior manager" he shouted, his voice echoing through the open-plan office. He wasn’t just talking to me anymore; he was performing for an audience.

He strode back toward me, getting in my face, a vicious smile twisting his lips as he lowered his voice for only me to hear. "I will make sure no other company in this city, no, this country, will ever hire you. You will be blacklisted. You will come begging to me on your knees. And you know what? I might just accept."

But as he spoke, I noticed a change in the atmosphere. The hushed tones of the coworkers shifted. They weren’t looking at us anymore. They were suddenly very interested in their computer screens, shuffling papers, trying to look busy.

"Eleanor," Mira whispered, already at her seat, nodding toward the entrance to the department.

I looked. Dickson, sensing the shift, turned too.

The three CEOs were standing there. They were a wall of imposing silence and tailored suits, their expressions unreadable as they took in the scene.