HER REVENGE

chapter 14

Barry POV

By the time I pulled into the parking lot, my knuckles had gone pale around the steering wheel. The engine’s growl died, but my pulse didn’t.

The moment my foot hit the pavement, I could feel eyes on me.

Not the casual “oh, boss is here” kind. This was heavier. The kind of stare people give when they’ve already decided they’re going to whisper the second you pass.

The security guard at the door actually froze with his mouth half-open like he wanted to greet me, but I guess his brain decided against it. Smart man.

I pushed through the glass doors.

The air inside felt… loaded. Like someone had sprayed the scent of gossip through the vents.

Staff were everywhere—some pretending to work, others not even bothering. Every face tilted toward me just enough to be obvious.

One of the interns—tiny girl with glasses—quickly ducked behind her monitor like I had a sniper rifle instead of a phone in my hand.

“Morning,” I said flatly.

No one answered. Not even the fake cheerful “good morning, sir” I usually get.

Weird.

My shoes clicked sharp against the floor as I made my way past the cubicles, my pace faster than my patience.

When I reached my office, I didn’t have to guess why they’d been looking at me like I’d just murdered someone.

George was leaning against my desk, his arms folded tight, lips pressed into a straight line.

Rosemary was in my chair.

My chair, the audacity, I don't just like her, George had a nightstand with her, since then, she doesn't want him to leave her, now she claimed she is pregnant.

Leg crossed over the other, dress riding a little too far up to be professional, and that smug little twist to her mouth that screamed she was enjoying this way too much.

I didn’t bother sitting.

“Why are you here?” My voice came out lower than I expected, all grit and no sugar.

She didn’t even blink. Just lifted a manicured finger and pointed—at George.

“He’s been ignoring me,” she said, voice lilting like she was auditioning for a soap opera. “I’ve been asking him for money for weeks to take care of myself. He refuses.”

I looked at her. Then at George. Then back at her.

And I laughed.

It wasn’t a polite chuckle. No—it was the kind of laugh that made people shift uncomfortably because they couldn’t tell if you were joking or about to set something on fire.

“So let me get this straight,” I said, taking a step closer. “You walk into my office, sit in my chair, and your opening statement is that George won’t send you cash?”

“Yes.” She tossed her hair like that explained everything.

I turned my gaze to George, still smiling like this was the best morning show I’d seen in months.

“Then maybe you can explain,” I said. “Why the hell you texted me saying she claimed she’s pregnant. With my kid.”

The vein in George’s temple actually twitched. He pushed off the desk, jaw tight.

“Because I needed you to get here fast,” he bit out.

I blinked slowly. “You what?”

“I said,” he ground out, “I needed you to rush. If I told you Rosemary was here screaming about money, you’d have taken your sweet time finishing your coffee. But the second I put that in the text, you floored it.”

“Oh, so you’re admitting you lied?”

His mouth opened, then snapped shut. His eyes darted toward Rosemary, who was now smiling like a cat who’d found two mice fighting over the same crumb.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered.

George’s voice sharpened. “You think I wanted to deal with her alone? She came in here acting like she owns the place. Threatening me. Threatening to ‘expose’ something. I didn’t know what she’d pull next.”

Rosemary scoffed, swinging her leg idly. “Oh, please. You’re acting like I came here with a gun. I just wanted what I’m owed.”

“You’re not owed anything,” George snapped.

I held up a hand. “Okay, enough. Rosemary, let me make something very clear—” I leaned forward, my hands braced against the edge of the desk, my shadow stretching over her. “—you have no business being in my office. None. You and I? We’re not connected. Not by blood, not by business, not by anything else. So stop showing up here like you’re my responsibility.”

Her smile faltered, just for a second, before she replaced it with a pout. “That’s cold, Barry.”

“Good,” I said. “Maybe it’ll keep you from trying this crap again.”

She crossed her arms. “So you’re just going to let your ‘friend’ here starve me? That’s the kind of man you are?”

I gave her a flat stare. “I’m the kind of man who doesn’t reward manipulation. And that’s all this is.”

George shifted, still visibly tense. “She’s been calling me non-stop for weeks,” he said. “I blocked her number, she started emailing, then showing up. This is the third time she’s been in the building this month. Security barely stopped her last week.”

Rosemary shot him a glare. “I have a right to be here—”

“No, you don’t,” I cut in. “You have the right to leave. Right now.”

She opened her mouth, but I straightened to my full height and stepped around the desk, my hand gripping the back of the chair she was in.

“Stand up,” I said.

“Barry—”

“Now.”

For a moment, I thought she’d push back. But then she rose, her chin tilting defiantly.

I moved the chair aside, giving her a clear path to the door. “You’ve got thirty seconds to be out of my office before I call security and make it official. Your choice.”

Her heels clicked sharply against the tile as she walked out, tossing a final over-the-shoulder shot. “You’re going to regret this.”

I didn’t answer.

When the door clicked shut behind her, the room felt heavier, not lighter.

I turned to George. “You pulled me out of my house for that?”

He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m telling you, she’s been relentless. I thought, hell, I don’t know what I thought. I just wanted backup.”

I paced toward the window, pushing the blinds open. Outside, I caught sight of Rosemary at the curb, already pulling out her phone. Probably dialing her next performance.

“You can’t bait me like that again,” I said without turning around. “If you need me here, say it straight. Don’t throw me a grenade and expect me not to be pissed when it doesn’t blow.”

“I know,” George muttered.

I turned back to face him, my irritation cooling into something sharper. “And stop entertaining her. The more you react, the more she’ll push. She feeds off attention like it’s oxygen.”

He exhaled hard, leaning against the desk again. “You think she’s going to stop after this?”

“No,” I said honestly. “But she’ll change tactics. And that’s worse.”

We both went quiet, the hum of the air conditioner filling the space.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, Camelia’s voice slid in again,soft, smug, and infuriating. I’m not your slave.

This morning was already hell, and it wasn’t even noon.