Years ago, to help Beverly Delgado survive a fatal turning point, I'd placed the half Oracle Cup I'd carried since childhood beneath the base of the altar. It had been there ever since.
"Alright. I'll go get it back." My gaze hardened. "And while I'm at it, I'll collect the commission they still owe me from last month's deals."
I took my resignation letter and walked back into Delgado Group.
But the moment I reached what used to be my desk in the sales director's office, I stopped dead.
The place was destroyed.
Every personal item I owned had been swept off the desk and into the hallway. My coffee mug lay in pieces. Files were scattered across the floor like debris after a storm.
Dean Cooley stood in the middle of it all, arms crossed, directing a cleaning lady with a lazy wave of his hand.
"That's right—use the mop from the men's room. This stuff reeks of bad luck. Might as well scrub it with something that's actually touched the real world."
The cleaning lady looked deeply uncomfortable, but she was dragging the filthy mop across the sacred ash I had carefully tended every single day.
Ash and dirty water swirled together across the tile.
My vision blurred red. I lunged forward like a man possessed, dropping to my knees in the grimy puddle, snatching the one thing still left on the desk—a small Blessing Pouch.
My grandmother had sewn it for me by hand. The night before she went into the ICU.
I tore it open with shaking fingers.
The Protection Charm that had been inside was shredded to ribbons.
"Dean Cooley!" My teeth were clenched so hard my jaw ached. My whole body trembled. "If you have a problem with me, take it up with me. You destroyed something my family made. Aren't you afraid that kind of cruelty comes back around?"
Dean didn't flinch. He threw his head back and laughed.
"Oh, did I hit a nerve? What's the matter—your almighty gods can't even protect one little pouch?"
"A fraud is a fraud. A few cheap psychological tricks, and you actually started believing you were some kind of living saint?"
More and more coworkers gathered around us. Not a single one spoke up.
I swallowed the urge to throw him out the window.
"Fine." My voice was low and flat. "Since I'm no longer part of this company, give me back my half of the Sacred Oracle Cup."
"And my commission from last month's eight-million-dollar deal. The second that money hits my account, I'm gone."