The One She Needed

TWENTY NINE

RAQUEL

"The greatest revenge is compassion." Some wise soul once said that—a saint, in my opinion.

But I'm no saint. And I have no desire to be one.

Mercy only applies to those whose souls can still be saved.

That's why I'm here. In this room. The same room where he shattered me, where I became nothing but a hollow outline of my former self. These four walls used to mock me, push me down until I crumbled.

Not today.

I meet his hard glare head-on as I take a seat across from him. His eyes track my every movement, analyzing, calculating, searching for weakness. He won't find any. I called him here for a reason, and I had no problem walking straight into his territory.

His smirk grates on my nerves, but I keep my composure. Time is precious, yet neither of us speaks. We let the seconds slip into the void, waiting, watching. Eventually, he grows tired of the silence and, as expected, blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

"You're sitting on a chair."

I narrow my eyes, wondering what the hell he's getting at.

"Whenever you were in my office, you had this habit of sitting on my desk. Out of all the furniture, you always picked that spot." He chuckles, rubbing his stubble. "You were always so comfortable in my space. And do you know what I find funny?"

I know it's rhetorical, but I'm prepared for anything. "What?"

"Serena likes sitting on my desk, too. Wrapping those long legs around me." He laughs, arrogant as ever. "And believe me, we tried the couch, the chairs, the floor... but she always preferred the desk."

I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. "I didn't call you here for a walk down memory lane."

He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. Let's move this along, then. I have a meeting soon. Just thought I'd point out the irony—two women who hate each other, yet share so many similarities."

"Like our shared distaste for you," I say flatly.

His expression flickers. He opens his mouth, no doubt to challenge me, but before he can, the rhythmic click of heels slices through the air.

I don't need to turn around. The scent of expensive perfume tells me exactly who it is.

"Apologies for being late, Raquel." Serena's voice is smooth, laced with amusement. She slides into the seat beside me, crossing her legs with effortless poise. "You have no idea how frustrating it is dealing with incompetent subordinates."

"It's fine," I say, my lips curling slightly. "The party hadn't even started."

His face pales, his eyes darting between us. I bite the inside of my cheek to suppress the laughter bubbling up. Watching his brain struggle to piece together what's happening is almost too entertaining.

"What the hell..." he mutters.

"Unlike you, I won't waste time reminiscing," I state. "I want you to call off the engagement and release Alex."

He stares at me for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound dripping with disbelief. Predictable.

"What?" he shrugs carelessly. "Did you think bringing her—" he nods toward Serena "—would make me nervous? You know me better than that, Raquel. I couldn't care less about whatever little alliance you two have."

"Don't flatter yourself," I say. "And you're right."

His laughter stops. Confusion flashes across his face—he's not used to me agreeing with him.

"The two of us alone won't bring you down," I continue. "But you've made enough enemies to form an army. By the way, how was your boys' night? I heard things got... interesting."

His jaw clenches, his fists tightening.

"Well, would you look at that?" Serena chuckles, eyes glinting with amusement. "The bastard's agitated."

His lips curl into a sneer. "And to think I once loved you," he spits at Serena.

Her amusement vanishes. "Men who love give flowers and chocolates. You gave me STDs and a broken heart. Don't pretend you were a victim."

Her voice rises, and I stay silent. The real poison in my life isn't in this room.

I watch as her rage swells, his expression darkening. He's holding back, barely, but I see the beast lurking beneath the surface.

She senses it too. Her rant stutters to a halt, and she exhales sharply. "If you had even an ounce of remorse for what you did..." she shakes her head, voice quieter now, steadier. "But you don't. And you never will."

She rises, retrieves her purse, and turns to leave. Just as her hand reaches the door, she pauses, looking back at him one last time.

"You think an Armani suit protects you," she murmurs, voice devoid of emotion. "You put too much faith in labels, Derek. Underneath, you're still just a pathetic, lying piece of shit."

With that, she walks out.

The door clicks shut, and he shifts his gaze back to me, muscles taut with rage. "I suppose it's your turn to bitch and moan about how I ruined your life?"

I could say something clever, some cutting remark to leave him stewing. But I don't need to.

I simply stand, reach into my pocket, and pull out the engagement ring. I place it on his desk—a small favor, really. Who knows when he'll ever be this close to real diamonds again?

Without a word, without a backward glance, I walk out, ignoring his bitter, mocking taunts.

Outside, Patrice sits at her desk, pretending to work, though I catch the smirk tugging at her lips. She gives me a subtle nod.

Marcus stands nearby, arms crossed, his lips curving slightly—a silent confirmation that everything is in place.

He was never loyal to Derek. He just needed the right opportunity. And after catching Serena and me together that night, he saw it.

I wanted freedom. He wanted a promotion. A mutually beneficial understanding. He gave me the evidence of Derek's insider trading. And as I exit that office, I leave the rest in his hands, passing by the two officers walking in the opposite direction.

Angie leans casually against the wall, beaming.

"I'm heading to the car," I tell her.

She barely glances at me, too busy watching the unfolding chaos. "I'll be down in a minute. Watching Derek go to his last-ever meeting is way too tempting to miss."

I step into the elevator, catching one final glimpse of the scene behind me. The weight on my shoulders lifts.

Money and arrogance—his greatest weapons—had also been his downfall.

Yes, my black little heart skips a beat, Aligned with every step of my feet.

"You will never understand the damage you did to someone until the same thing is done to you. That's why I'm here."

-KARMA