Chapter 2 A Proper Doormat
1277 Words
"No treatment necessary," I said flatly. "Minor capillary rupture under the skin, zero infection risk. A little concealer will take care of it."
Chloe's painted-on smile froze.
She hadn't counted on me not giving a damn.
The sick little flicker of anticipation in Victor's eyes shattered on the spot.
Something dark and desperate rushed in to take its place, half fury, half panic.
I turned on my heel and walked out without looking back.
I barely made it back to my office before the door flew open behind me.
Victor stormed in like a thundercloud and locked the door behind him.
Before I could even react, he had me shoved up against the floor-to-ceiling window.
He pressed his chest flat against my back and jammed his thigh behind my knees, trapping me between the cold glass and the furnace of his body.
The raw scent of him hit me like a wall, and every ragged breath he took grazed the sensitive skin behind my ear, hot and relentless, until a shiver ran through my whole body.
"Playing hard to get?" He gritted his teeth and grabbed my chin, forcing my head to the side to face him.
His thumb dug into the corner of my pressed-together lips, dragging back and forth like a punishment. "You sure ran off fast back there. Jealous?"
I stared at the face that had destroyed me in my last life, and all I felt was sick to my stomach.
I reached up and peeled his fingers off my jaw, one by one.
"Mr. Steele," I said evenly, "watching my employer flirt isn't part of my job description."
I stepped back and opened the distance between us. "Congratulations to you and Ms. Chloe Kensington."
Victor's entire face went dark.
He couldn't stand it. He had grown used to the old version of me, the one who hung on his every word and craved even a sliver of his attention.
His gaze dropped to the space beneath my desk. He knew what was inside that box, every little memory of him I had been hoarding in secret.
He crossed the room in two strides and kicked the box over, sending photos spilling across the floor.
Every one of them was a candid I had stolen when he wasn't looking. Some showed him sound asleep, others caught him deep in work, and a few had him stepping out of the shower, bare-chested and still dripping.
"All business, huh?" Victor sneered. "You've been hoarding photos of me behind my back, and you still have the nerve to talk about keeping it professional?"
He snatched one off the floor. It was the shot of him fast asleep while I leaned in and kissed his cheek. He gave it one look and flicked it back at me with a scoff.
"Emma." His voice turned to ice. "This sad little crush of yours is pathetic. A woman who can't even respect herself isn't fit to breathe the same air as Chloe."
I stood there and watched him unravel.
I took the photo from him without a word and blew the dust off its surface.
A smug little smile tugged at the corner of Victor's mouth for the first time in ages.
The next second, I turned around, scooped up every last photo, and tossed them straight into the trash.
"Have you lost your mind?" Victor seized my wrist, his eyes blazing with a fury that could have burned me alive.
"Trash belongs in the trash." I yanked my hand free and flipped the entire storage box into the wastebasket. "Now get out."
Victor stared me down, then turned and slammed the door behind him. I didn't spare him so much as a backward glance.
*****
The next day, I went back to the place we shared to pack my things.
One of my evening gowns was missing from the closet.
When my birth parents first brought me home, they had pulled it from Chloe's closet and handed it to me as a last-minute outfit for the welcome dinner.
In my last life, I had treated that dress like a treasure.
"Don't bother looking." Victor's voice cut in from the hallway, cold and flat, as he watched me rifle through the closet.
He stood in the doorway with both hands shoved in his pockets.
"I tore Chloe's dress last night," he said without a shred of shame, "so I grabbed one of yours for her."
I turned to face him. The way he talked about ripping her clothes, like it was some kind of trophy moment, made my stomach turn.
'First my work, now this. He'd take the shirt off my back if it meant looking good in front of her,' I thought, bile rising in my throat.
"Honestly? Not even worth bringing up," he added with a shrug, "but figured you should hear it from me."
Victor took another step closer, and his voice dropped to something low and dangerous.
"Chloe might be carrying my heir. So I suggest you stay in your lane and choke down whatever jealousy you've got festering in there. Lay a finger on her, and I will end you," he continued with a scoff.
'Carrying his heir?' The word hit me like a slap. I counted back the days, and it all lined up with that unhinged night.
I pulled open the drawer, grabbed a printed document, and slapped it square against his chest.
"My resignation," I said, holding his stare without blinking.
Victor glanced down, and every drop of color drained from his face.
"I know exactly where I stand and where the line is," I said, my voice dead even. "Consider this my last day as your private doctor."
Victor's fingers crumpled the edges of the letter, and he swallowed hard.
He stood there staring at me, chest heaving, completely unable to speak. When he finally turned and walked out, his whole body moved stiff and mechanical.
That night, my phone wouldn't stop buzzing. My mother's name kept lighting up the screen.
The second the call connected, my mother's voice hit me like a slap. "Have you lost your mind, Emma? Chloe just got pregnant with Victor's baby, and you pick now to quit?
"Get your ass back there and take care of her. If anything happens to that girl, I swear to God I will make you pay."
My father scoffed beside her. "Grew up in the gutter, and it shows. You can't even be a proper doormat for Chloe. Get back there, or don't bother calling yourself family."
These were my birth parents. In their eyes, the fake heiress was their golden child, and I ranked somewhere below the hired help.
That familiar, bone-deep ache from my last life crept back in, but this time I didn't cry.
I hung up without another word.
Without missing a beat, I opened my laptop, logged into an overseas legal platform, and pulled up a document I had drafted long before this moment.
The document severed every legal tie between us, surrendered my inheritance, and freed me from any obligation to support them.
I signed the last page and had the lawyer send it to my parents that same hour.
Once it was done, I felt lighter than I had in years.
My phone buzzed with a message from the real estate agent.
The paperwork for my private clinic in Haven Cove was finalized, and every asset had been transferred free and clear.
That was my fresh start.
My flight was booked for the morning after next.
I was leaving this city, leaving Victor, leaving every last parasite who called themselves my family.
- Writer
