The Rival I Left Behind

Vera Quinn and I spent seven years tearing each other apart in the corporate world.

When we first started, she sabotaged my presentation slides, hoping to watch me humiliate myself in front of the board.

I retaliated by flagging her fraudulent expense reports to HR, making sure her name was dragged through every department in the company.

When we were both up for the director position, she locked me in a supply closet to make me miss the final interview.

The moment I got out, I poached a major client she had been pursuing for six months, leaving her at the very bottom of the year-end performance rankings.

In our industry, we were fire and water—completely incompatible.

Then three years ago, the endless scheming finally felt hollow. I handed in my resignation and walked away from the industry for good.

The day I packed my desk and left, Vera was leaning against the elevator door, her eyes full of mockery.

"Giving up already? Mylo, a cowardly deserter like you deserves to starve on the streets".

I hit the "close" button, swearing I never wanted to see her face again as long as I lived.

Three years later, we crossed paths again at the industry’s annual gala. Vera was now the youngest partner in the industry.

She looked at me as I stood there, humbling myself to pour drinks for an executive, and let out a sharp laugh.

"It’s been a few years, and you’ve fallen this far? Working as a glorified escort to scrounge up some investments? What happened to that pride you used to fight me with?"

But I wasn't there to secure any investment.

I was there to beg that executive for a few more days to pay off the predatory loans my father had left behind.

I just needed enough time to sign the consent form for my stomach cancer surgery with a clear conscience.

Diane Chanel let out a chuckle at the scene. "Ms. Quinn, do you know Mylo Vane? He was just asking me for a few more days on his debt."

She looked at me again. "Mylo, you should have mentioned you knew Ms. Quinn. If you make her happy tonight, we can definitely work something out regarding the money."

I grit my teeth. My stomach was churning so hard I felt like I was going to throw up right there.

Vera Quinn just watched me with a cold, calculating look.

"Ms. Chanel is mistaken." I looked up and forced a smile. "I don’t know Ms. Quinn. Since you’re busy, I’ll get out of your way."

I turned to leave, but Vera’s hand clamped around my wrist.

"You don't know me? Mylo, begging her is a waste of time. You’re better off begging me." She pressed the glass against my lips, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

"Drink this. Admit you’re a useless coward. Just get on your knees and tell me you've lost. Do that, and I'll make sure she gives you whatever you want."

People around us started whispering. These were the same colleagues I used to be ahead of, and now they were just staring at me like I was a show.

Another sharp cramp hit my stomach and my vision went dark for a second. I had to grip the edge of the table with everything I had just to keep from collapsing in front of her.

Diane realized Vera was looking to humiliate me, and it only made her more interested.

She grabbed a bottle of liquor from the table and told the waiter to bring over hot mustard. She then squeezed the whole thing into the glass.

"Mylo, Ms. Quinn made her point, so I have to show some respect." Diane pushed the mustard-filled liquor toward me.

"Finish this, and we can talk about the debt next month."

Vera leaned back in her chair, her long fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the table.

She stared at the drink with nothing but mockery in her eyes. "Ms. Chanel, you’re being too nice. A man like this will do anything for money.

"Back when he was trying to steal my client, he’d work through the night for weeks and never say a word."

I looked down at the glass. The sharp, stinging scent of the mustard hit me instantly.

My stomach was already a wreck. It wasn't just stomach ulcers. There was a tumor spreading inside me.

The doctor was clear. If I ate or drank anything too spicy, it was over.

If I downed this, I don't know if I’d be able to make it out of the ballroom.

"What, are you scared?" Vera arched an eyebrow. "Mylo, where’s that pride? Or did you lose your spine when you ran away three years ago?."

I took a deep breath, my hands shaking as I reached for the glass.

"Fine. I’ll drink it," I said quietly.