Eight Years Lost, Now Truly Free

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oorframe of my office, the space that had been mine for eight years, now seemingly absorbed into her orbit. Her eyes narrowed as

w felt like enemy territory. My brief moment of rebellion yesterday had been ex

ificial concern. "You look a little... unkempt. Didn't your li

g the piles of paperwork that weren't mine. "What do yo

ed pretty wound up. Like a spring that finally snapped." She chuckled, a brittle, humorless sound. "Or maybe you just realiz

nding tilt of her head. She was a caricature of success, a glossy façade. "You know, Brittany," I

es flashed with anger. "Wh

ng her gaze head-on, "the trut

hink you're so clever, don't you? So noble. But you're just bitter, Alena. A bitter, discarded plaything." S

He wrapped an arm around Brittany' s waist, pulling her close. "Everything alright, s

ome... old business, darling." She leaned in a

tner, and she, the new, shining star with powerful connections. The ir

s catching on the carpet, and a stack of files she was carrying-files for my tech deal-tumbled from her grasp,

d, affected sound. "Oh my god, m

k a coffee cup that was sitting precariously on a nearby cart. It hit the floor with a porcelain-shatterin

tching her arm. "Oh, the horror! My new suit is ruined!" she w

ing there, a silent observer. His eyes hardened. "Alena," he commanded, his voice sharp

p. Like a subordinate. Like a m

dy stiffening. The

"Brittany is distressed. We have a meeting in five minutes. Someone needs to handle thi

t ready. My stomach churned. I knew what this w

blow. It felt like my body was mirroring the betrayal, a physical manifestation of the emotional wreckage. I had end

I bent down, ignoring the throbbing pain, ignoring Brittany's triumphant smirk. My fingers,

contaminate her. "Wouldn't want to get your pretty suit dirty. Oh, wa

ce. He always did. He watched me clean up his messes, his mist

omen. The pain was sharp, almost debilitating. My vision bl

ch out, his hand extending. A flash of so

ke, darling, I feel faint. That smell... it's overwhelming." She leaned heavily

ding her away. "Let's get you some fresh air, Brittany. A

m. I was left alone, kneeling on the cold marble floor, surrounded by the wreckage of spilled coffee and sh

my love, my loyalty. Reduced to this.

This was a moment of absolute clarity. He didn't care. He never had. He

ake Molina. My last act in this twisted, degrading play. This was not j

rom this firm. From