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.

Vera stopped tapping her fingers on the table.

She didn't seem to expect me to actually take the glass.

I closed my eyes and forced the liquid down my throat. The mixture of alcohol and hot mustard felt like a ball of lava, searing its way down my esophagus before exploding in my stomach.

"Nice! Mr. Morass is certainly a good sport!" Diane led the applause.

Vera suddenly stood up. She stared at me, her face darkening with a terrifying intensity.

"Mylo, you’re disgusting." She threw the words at me coldly and turned to leave.

I couldn't care less about her insults. I shoved through the crowd and stumbled toward the restroom.

Once inside a stall, I could no longer suppress the metallic, bloody taste surging up. I heaved, vomiting violently into the toilet. The pain in my stomach was so intense my whole body spasmed, leaving me curled on the floor, gasping for air.

I fumbled through my bag, found a painkiller, and swallowed it.

I can't die. Not yet. I haven't bought a plot for my father's grave, and I haven't cleared those debts.

Just then, I heard footsteps outside.

"Vera, weren't you being a little too hard on him? Mylo looked like he was in really bad shape."

It was Cole White’s voice.

Cole was Vera’s current fiancé and had been my intern three years ago. Back then, he had begged me to mentor him. I taught him how to build strategies step by step, only for him to steal important data under Vera’s orders.

"He brought it on himself." Vera’s voice was still cold, though it held a trace of irritability. "People like him never learn their place until they’re taught a lesson."

I hid in the stall, listening to them, feeling nothing but irony.

I stayed in the restroom for a long time, waiting for the dizziness to fade. When I finally pushed the door open, Cole was standing in front of the mirror, fixing his hair.

He saw me in the reflection and looked startled before flashing a fake, sympathetic smile.

"Mylo, are you okay? I saw how much you drank earlier. I was genuinely worried."

I ignored him and walked straight to the sink to rinse my mouth.

Cole saw I wasn't talking and his eyes flickered. Suddenly, he let out a gasp.

"Ahh! My suit!"

He intentionally leaned over, dragging the hem of his jacket against the running faucet I hadn't turned off yet. The expensive, custom suit was instantly soaked, looking a mess under the lights.

"Mylo, how could you? I know you’re upset, but Vera had this suit custom-made for me. I have to see an important client tonight."

Cole’s eyes turned red as he lowered his head, looking like the victim.

Vera walked in at that exact moment. She looked at Cole’s soaked clothes, then at me, and her expression turned black as coal.

"Mylo, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. He—" My explanation died under Vera’s freezing stare.

"Mylo, has your mind really become this twisted?" Vera’s voice was menacing. "Apologize to Cole."

"I’m not apologizing." I straightened my back, even though my stomach was still throbbing with pain.

"Vera, you’ve been in the industry long enough. You seriously can't see through a setup this pathetic?"

"I only believe what I see." Vera let out a cold laugh. She suddenly reached down and snatched my bag, which had fallen in the scramble.

Everything spilled across the floor. The debt repayment plan, a few crumpled bills, and the box of painkillers I hadn't had time to hide.

Vera stared at the painkillers, then at the debt repayment plan from my bag.

"Apologize. Get on your knees and wipe the water off Cole's shoes, and I’ll let tonight go." A flash of something complex crossed Vera’s eyes.

"Otherwise, I’ll tell Diane to take back her promise immediately."

A crowd of onlookers had already gathered at the restroom door to watch the drama.

Cole leaned into Vera, his voice performatively kind. "Vera, let it go. Mylo probably didn't mean it. He’s clearly going through a lot right now...."

"Struggling isn't an excuse to hurt people." Vera cut him off, her eyes locked on mine. "Mylo. Get down and wipe his shoes clean."

My mind went blank for a second.

Get on my knees?

Back when we were at the same company, I never once bowed my head, even when clients were screaming in my face.

Vera and I fought for seven years. Even at my lowest, when she locked me in that supply closet, I just used a fire extinguisher to smash the door open and charge out.

But now, Diane was still holding my father's ashes as collateral, and I was still twenty thousand dollars short for my surgery.

I looked into Vera’s eyes, which were full of nothing but hatred, and realized that dignity can be a very cheap thing sometimes.

My knees gave way. To the sound of gasps from the crowd, I actually knelt.

Vera’s body visibly stiffened.

I kept my head down, mechanically pulling a tissue from my bag. I carefully wiped the water spots off Cole's shoes. Tears hit the floor in heavy droplets.

Vera, you won.

Vera didn't look satisfied that I was on my knees. Instead, her face went pale, looking almost panicked and ashamed. She suddenly grabbed my arm, her grip so tight I thought she might crush the bone.

"Mylo, are you really this desperate for money? You’d throw away your self-respect for a debt?"

She growled the words into my ear, her voice shaking with rage.

I looked at her, feeling numb. "Isn't this what you wanted, Ms. Quinn? You wanted to see me beg. I'm begging. Are you happy now?"

Vera stared at me. Suddenly, her eyes fell on the surgery notice on the floor.

Panic flared in my chest. I tried to grab it, but she was faster.

Her expression shifted to alarm as she gripped the paper. "Stomach cancer surgery? You're sick?"

Before I could answer, Cole suddenly clamped a hand on my shoulder.

"Is it a fake?" Cole asked with fake concern. "I mean, when Mylo and Vera worked together, he used to pull extreme stunts like this all the time.

"Mylo, I know you want to win, but you shouldn't joke about your health.

"Look at this. A surgery notice, painkillers—it’s all so perfectly prepared. Just like that time you told me to frame Vera.

"Ahh... did I say too much? Sorry, sorry. My bad. I promised I’d keep that a secret."

Cole gave an innocent shrug, looking performatively apologetic. He paused on purpose, making everyone in the room look at me with suspicion.

My head throbbed. Rage surged through me as I shoved Cole’s hand away. "Shut up!"

The next second, Vera grabbed my hand.

She let out a frustrated laugh. "So, Mylo. You’ll do anything with zero boundaries for a bit of profit, right?

"I really underestimated you. I thought these three years had actually humbled you."

"I didn't do it."

Maybe it was the stress, but the pain in my stomach was getting worse. My vision started to blur.