"Alright. I'll go get it now. And while I'm at it, I'll collect my commission from last month's deals." My gaze turned cold.
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, the sight that greeted me was pure devastation.
Every personal item I owned had been swept into the hallway. My water glass lay in pieces. Documents were scattered across the floor.
Tamara Cooley stood with her arms crossed, directing the cleaning lady like a general surveying a battlefield.
"That's right, use the mop from the bathroom. These things reek of bad luck. Might as well scrub some reality into them."
The cleaning lady looked deeply uncomfortable, dragging the filthy mop across the consecrated ash I had carefully maintained every single day.
Ash and dirty water swirled together across the tile.
My eyes burned red in an instant. I lunged forward like a woman possessed, dropping to my knees in the grimy water, snatching the one remaining Silk Talisman Pouch from the desk.
My grandmother had sewn it for me with her own hands before she was wheeled into the ICU.
I tore it open, and my blood ran cold. The Protection Charm that had been tucked inside was shredded to ribbons.
"Tamara Cooley!" I bit down so hard my teeth ached, my whole body trembling with rage.
"If you have a problem with me, take it up with me. You destroyed something my family made for me. Aren't you afraid of what comes back around?"
Tamara didn't flinch. She threw her head back and laughed.
"Oh, did I hit a nerve? What's the matter, can't your precious gods even protect a 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, but not a single one spoke up for me.
I swallowed the urge to throw her out the window.
"Fine. Since I'm no longer part of this company, give me back my half of the Holy Cup."
"And my commission from last month's eight-million-dollar deals. The second the money hits my account, I'm gone."
That money was the only thing standing between my grandmother and her ICU bills and the next round of targeted therapy.
Tamara let out a scornful laugh, pulled a financial statement from behind her back, and flung it straight at my face.
"Commission? You actually have the nerve to ask?"