The Divine Coin Toss She Fired Me, So I Made Her Empire Crumble

After the New Year break, I went to the Patron Saint's Shrine to pray for good fortune before heading back to work. On a whim, I cast the oracle cups—and all six landed sacred side up.

The entire temple went silent.

The boss gave me a red envelope with eighty-eight hundred dollars on the spot and told me to serve as the company's full-time fortune seeker from now on.

But my boyfriend—Dean Cooley, a hotshot director who'd been parachuted in fresh from his Ivy League degrees—sneered at the whole thing. Right there in front of everyone, he grabbed my Incense Altar and smashed it on the ground.

"We live in a modern society. The fact that this company pays a charlatan like you is an embarrassment!" He straightened his cuffs. "Effective immediately, you're fired."

I looked at him—at the faint dark line of misfortune creeping across his forehead—and smiled. "Fine. As long as Ms. Delgado has no objections, I'll leave right now."

Beverly Delgado had her arm looped through Dean's. She didn't even look at me. "Vincent Sullivan, superstition really isn't a good look. You should find opportunities elsewhere."

I turned and walked out without another word.

A Rolls-Royce was idling at the curb. I got in.

...

"Ten million a year. Year-end bonuses calculated separately. In all of Gilbert Group, you'll hold the highest authority after me."

Lisa Gilbert slid the contract across the table, her eyes bright with a smile she'd clearly been saving. "I've been waiting for this day for a very long time."

I let out a dry laugh and didn't pick up the pen. "Aren't you afraid I'm just a con artist playing tricks with incense and smoke?"

Lisa's voice was unwavering. "Beverly Delgado is blind. I'm not."

"Mr. Sullivan, you don't just have talent—you have divine favor."

"Three years on the job, and you took Delgado Group all the way to an IPO. Everyone in the Capital knows what you're capable of."

She paused. "But before anything else, you need to retrieve the half of your Sacred Oracle Cup that you left enshrined at Delgado Group."

"If you don't sever the karmic tie with the Delgado family, your fortune will keep draining. And they'll keep feeding off your energy like parasites."

A jolt ran through me. She was right.

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."

That money was the only thing standing between my grandmother and her ICU bills. Her next round of targeted therapy.

Dean let out a mocking laugh, reached behind him, and flung a financial statement at my face. The paper slapped against my cheek and fluttered to the wet floor.

"Commission?" He tilted his head, grinning. "You actually have the nerve to ask?"