He looked up at me, this time for once without any of that usual smugness. His eyes darted between panic, anger, and the wild hope of finding an escape route. In the past, hed have seized these moments, bearing down until I caved. But now not a chance.
What do you want? he repeated, much more quietly now. Money? Just say an amount. Ill handle it. We can sort something out.
I allowed myself a brief pause. Not some Oscar-worthy dramatic silence, but a business-like one the sort you take before closing the annual accounts and signing off the bottom line.
You still dont get it, Andrew, I said, calm as a winter morning. I dont want your money.
He blinked. That shook him more than any shouting ever could.
So what is it then? Revenge? Want to ruin me? His voice rose again and echoed through the kitchen.
No. I just want back whats mine. And to draw a line under the whole thing.
I stood up, wandered over to the cabinet, and pulled out a slim, grey folder. No label, nothing fancy. The same one that had been buried right at the back, under old contracts and tax records. He never bothered with it. For him, it was just Annas accounting nonsense.
I put the folder on the table and opened it.
Here, I pointed to the first sheet, are your loan agreements. Personal ones. You took money from the company. Loads. In your own name. ‘Just temporary,’ as you called it.
I flipped the page.
These are the reconciliation protocols every debt acknowledged.
Another sheet.
And this is the addendum. If assets are siphoned off unilaterally, the debt comes due immediately.
He went pale, so much that the freckles on his nose once annoyingly endearing now looked almost tragic.
You you forged them?
No, I shook my head. You signed them yourself. At different times. In different states. Sometimes tipsy, sometimes in a rush before meetings that always started after nine in the evening.
He shot up.
This is blackmail!
This is bookkeeping, Andrew, I actually managed to look him straight in the eye. The difference has always escaped you.
He started pacing up and down the kitchen, running his fingers through his hair.
Emily she didnt know anything This is you! You planned it!
Emily knew quite enough, I said. She knew you were almost free and almost everything was transferred already. For her, that was plenty.
I sat again. This time directly across from him.
Youve got a choice, I continued. First: we go to court. The gift agreement is declared null and void. Then inspections begin. HMRC, the Crown Prosecutors Office, your reputation, your new life all gone.
And the second? he whispered.
The second is easier. We sign an agreement. You leave the business voluntarily. You transfer your share to me. No fireworks.
He laughed. Brief. Slightly hysterical.
And you think Ill be left with nothing?
No, I replied honestly. Youll get exactly what you left me. The car. And time to pack your things.
He looked at me for ages. In that gaze you could find everything: hatred, a faint plea for pity, and the memory of starting out together in a shabby office with an ancient computer.
I did love you he murmured.
I didn’t look away.
I loved a person. Not a scheme. Not a traitor. That person moved on long ago.
He slumped down in his chair. Not theatrics genuinely defeated.
Give me some time to think
Youve got twenty-four hours, I said. At ten tomorrow, the solicitor arrives.
He nodded slowly. Already out of energy.
Next day, he arrived bang on time. Hollow-cheeked, bleary-eyed. Emily didnt call. Or maybe she did he didnt pick up.
He signed the paperwork in silence. His hand shook.
When everything was finished, the solicitor left, and it was just the two of us.
You won, he said in a flat voice.
No, I replied. I just stepped off a chessboard Id been playing alone for years.
He took his keys and paused by the hallway.
I thought you were weak
I smiled, just a little.
That was your biggest miscalculation.
The door closed behind him, softly, without drama.
Six months later, the company was on an entirely new level. I changed the team, scrubbed out the shadow deals, got everything in order. The business became cleaner and stronger.
Andrew tried for a fresh start. Rumour had it, not successfully. Emily left quickly moneyless, her interest evaporated.
From time to time Id spot his name in the news. Less and less. Quieter and quieter.
Deleted my Reserve file. No longer needed.
Because, sometimes, the best revenge isnt a strike.
Its a neat, cold calculation, worked out long before the final whistle.
