Too Late, Ex-Husband: Watch Me Shine

Idella forced herself to look away from Angelita's mocking smile. She turned toward the standard employee elevator, her arms burning from the weight of the cardboard box.

Before she could press the button, the sharp clatter of heels echoed down the hallway.

Susan Gable marched up, blocking the elevator doors. She held a thick, fifteen-page document in her hand, tapping her expensive pen against the paper.

"Not so fast," Susan said, her tone strictly business, but her eyes dancing with malice. "Your final severance and offboarding ledger."

Susan flipped to the second page. "Because you failed to provide a thirty-day written notice of resignation, the company is legally withholding your final month's salary."

Idella's eyes widened in disbelief. "You forced me to sign that resignation letter under duress two hours ago!"

Susan shrugged, tapping the paper again. "Compliance policy doesn't care about your feelings, Idella. It cares about signatures."

Susan flipped to the last page, delivering the final blow. "Furthermore, due to your breach of protocol, your accumulated year-end bonuses and unvested stock options from the past three years are officially voided."

The air vanished from Idella's lungs. That bonus was her only hope for her mother's post-operative care.

Idella slammed the heavy cardboard box down onto the lid of the nearby trash can. She snatched the document from Susan's hands.

The pages were filled with predatory legal jargon, stamped with Fount's electronic signature. It was a flawless execution of corporate theft.

"This violates Illinois labor laws," Idella hissed, her voice shaking with rage. "You can't steal my earned bonuses."

Susan let out a loud, condescending laugh. "Hire a lawyer, then. Let me know if you can find a single firm in Chicago willing to sue the Fitzgerald Group."

Susan leaned in, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. "This is just Mr. Fitzgerald teaching you a lesson. Learn your place."

The realization hit Idella like a bucket of ice water. This wasn't HR protocol. This was a targeted, systematic execution. Fount was trying to starve her to death.

Idella's body trembled violently, but her mind suddenly went terrifyingly cold.

She looked Susan dead in the eye. She gripped the thick stack of papers and ripped them straight down the middle, tossing the halves into the trash can.

"I'm not signing your robbery," Idella said, her voice dropping an octave. "I'm going to ask Fount exactly how far he plans to push this."

Susan's face flushed with anger. She reached for the radio on her hip. "Security, we have a hostile-"

Before Susan could finish, Idella shoved hard past her shoulder. She bolted toward the heavy red fire exit door and threw her weight against the crash bar.

The metal door slammed shut behind her, cutting off Susan's shouts.

Idella stood in the dim, concrete stairwell. She looked up at the floor marker. Floor 12.

Fount's private executive office was on the 42nd floor. Thirty flights of stairs.

She didn't even pause to consider the burning ache already building in her legs. Wearing her cheap sneakers, she grabbed the cold metal railing and began to climb, taking the stairs two at a time. The rubber soles of her shoes slapped against the freezing concrete. By the twentieth flight, her lungs were burning, screaming for oxygen. By the thirtieth flight, the muscles in her calves were cramping so hard she almost stumbled.

But every time she wanted to stop, the image of her mother's pale face, Buddy's bleeding paws, and Fount's cold sneer flashed before her eyes. The anger was a physical fuel, pushing her upward.

Thirty minutes later, drenched in sweat, her chest heaving violently, Idella pushed open the heavy fire door to the 42nd floor.

The top-floor corridor was dead silent. Thick, plush wool carpets absorbed the sound of her footsteps. The executive assistants' desks were empty-they must have still been in the board meeting.

Idella walked like a ghost down the hallway toward the massive mahogany double doors of Fount's private office.

She raised her hand to push the door open, but stopped.

The door wasn't fully latched. A sliver of a gap remained, letting out a sliver of warm light.

And a voice.

"You were too gentle with her today, Fount."

It was Angelita's voice, thick with a sultry, whining tone.

Idella's hand froze in mid-air. Her heart plummeted into her stomach.