Your Company, Not My Life

I called him out—I had to. Like he saw it coming, he slapped down proof they were just talking business, then turned it on me, calling me jealous and dramatic. To punish me for "overthinking," he started bringing Molly over like it was nothing.

She didn't even try to hide the way she looked at me—like she wanted a fight.

Thing is, they never technically crossed a line.

After a while, I started questioning myself. Every day felt like a loop of, 'What if it's just me?'

Honestly, if I'd put that energy into literally anything else, I'd be way ahead by now.

***

The next morning, Derrick proudly announced Molly's big promotion—right after dropping me to the bottom rung.

He hesitated at first, but once I stayed chill and acted like it didn't faze me, he bought it. Thought I'd accepted everything.

He was riding high. So was I.

While he threw Molly a fancy banquet, I was getting my visa approved.

While they chilled at an amusement park, I was packing. One suitcase—that's all I needed.

While they toasted clients at some club, I wrapped up my final handover.

***

Two days later—my last day at Vantrel—I wrapped things up with Sandy in HR.

Without even glancing up, she said, "Before you go, stop by the CEO's office. Mr. Cromwell wants to see you."

I was about to say no, then stopped.

I was flying out tonight. If Derrick went out with Molly like usual, this'd be it. No more run-ins. No more anything.

After five years, maybe a final goodbye was fair.

So I headed upstairs.

Right as I reached for the door, I caught a glimpse through the glass—Derrick kicked back on the couch, and Molly, in a long dress, was lying with her head in his lap. Way too close for "just business."

He said something, and she cracked up, covering her mouth like it was the funniest thing ever.

***

I froze.

Was about to turn back when Molly saw me. She shot up, startled. "Yara, what are you doing here?"

Derrick's jaw clenched. He yanked his wrinkled suit into place and barked, "Yara Yenford, who said you could come in? Didn't I tell you not to come upstairs without permission?"

He had said that once—but back then, the rule was 'no one but me' could disturb him up here.

I used to think that meant I was special. Now I knew better.

Not that it mattered. I was already out the door.

I kept my voice steady. "Sandy said you were looking for me."

He scoffed, stomped to his desk, and hit the intercom. Sandy showed up minutes later.

"You told Yara I needed to see her?" he asked, cold as ice.

Sandy clocked the tension. She glanced at Derrick's face, then at Molly's guilty one, and hesitated—way too long—before mumbling, "I don't remember."

Derrick let out a dry laugh, smug as hell. He turned to me, all frost and venom. "Wow, Yara. Thought you'd grown up, but you're still the same—always plotting.

"If you're that paranoid, why not just move in upstairs? Better yet, plant a camera on me. Then you can stalk me 24/7 and finally give that nosy little brain of yours a break."