Too Late For Regret: The Surgeon's Comeback

Arely returned to the dingy apartment carrying shopping bags from brands Brittny only dreamed of wearing. The air of quiet luxury she now exuded was a stark contrast to the peeling paint and stained carpets of the hallway.

Brittny was on the sofa, picking at a container of takeout noodles. She looked up, ready with a sarcastic comment, but the words died when Arely dropped a thick document on the coffee table in front of her. It slapped against the wood.

It was a copy of the lease agreement and a formal eviction notice.

"What the hell is this?" Brittny snapped, her face flushing with anger.

"The lease is in my name. The security deposit was paid from my account," Arely said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. "You are a guest. And your visit is over."

Brittny laughed, a high, ugly sound. "You're kicking me out? Don't be ridiculous. As soon as Kole's new movie is announced, he's buying me a condo in Beverly Hills. You'll be begging to be my roommate again."

Arely pulled out her phone and pressed play.

Brittny's own voice filled the small room, tinny and triumphant from the phone's speaker. "...gave Mickey the key card, just like you said, Kole. She didn't suspect a thing..."

The color drained from Brittny's face. She lunged for the phone, her nails like claws.

Arely sidestepped the clumsy attack, catching Brittny's wrist in a grip of steel. She applied a little pressure, and Brittny cried out, sinking to her knees.

"That recording, along with a sworn statement, would be very interesting to the LAPD. Conspiracy to commit assault is a serious charge," Arely said calmly. "Now, you can either pack your things and walk out that door, or I can call them."

Brittny's face crumpled. The anger was replaced by tears. "Arely, please... We've been friends for years. Best friends."

Arely let out a short, sharp laugh. It was a terrifying sound. She kicked an empty suitcase towards Brittny. "You were a parasite."

She walked into Brittny's room and began pulling clothes from the closet, tossing them onto the floor. Designer knock-offs, cheap fast fashion, all of it piling up in a messy heap.

Seeing her possessions being desecrated, Brittny's fear turned back to rage. She grabbed a table lamp and swung it at Arely's head.

Without even turning around, Arely's hand shot back, catching the lamp mid-air. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it flying out the open second-story window.

The sound of shattering glass from the street below finally broke Brittny's spirit. She stared at Arely, her body trembling. This wasn't the weak, pliable girl she had known. This was a monster.

Arely stepped over the pile of clothes and stood over her. "Don't bother calling Kole for help," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He's a little... preoccupied."

"What did you do?" Brittny whimpered.

Arely glanced at the clock on the wall. "You should turn on TMZ." She gave Brittny's suitcase another kick. "You have five minutes. Then I start throwing things out the window again. Starting with you."

The raw menace in her eyes was no act. Brittny scrambled, stuffing her clothes haphazardly into the suitcase, tears and snot running down her face.

As she dragged her belongings to the door, a breaking news alert flashed across the TV screen.

The footage was grainy, shot on a cell phone at a loud industry party. It showed Mickey O'Malley, his face bruised and swollen, screaming in Kole Bowman's face.

"You're a worthless leech!" Mickey roared, his voice slurring. "You think you can use me? You and that little tramp!"

An image flashed on the screen-a crystal-clear screenshot of Mickey's gloating text to Kole: She's all mine. You'll get your part. It was the screenshot Arely had taken from Mickey's phone.

Brittny let out a strangled gasp.

Arely sat on the arm of the sofa, crossing her legs, and watched the beautiful, satisfying implosion of Brittny's life.

The realization dawned on Brittny's face. The quiet, pathetic Arely she had bullied and betrayed had done this. All of it.

She didn't say another word. She yanked the door open and fled, dragging her suitcase behind her like a ball and chain.

The apartment was silent.

Arely stood up, locked the door, and took a deep, cleansing breath. The stench of betrayal was finally gone.

She pulled out her phone and dialed the real estate agent.

"The beachfront property in Malibu," she said. "I'll take it. Cash offer. I want the keys tonight."