The Final Blow
I stared at my phone screen, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out every other sound. The numbers blurred as I blinked rapidly, my hands shaking so badly that I almost dropped the device.
Insufficient funds.
I refreshed the banking app, convinced—no, praying—it was some kind of glitch. But the balance didn't change. Zero.
A strangled gasp escaped me. My savings. My safety net. The last piece of security I had in my life—gone.
"No," I whispered, my pulse thundering in my ears. "No, no, no, no!"
I shot up from my chair, sending it skidding across the floor. My hands dug into my hair as panic tightened around my throat.
This can't be happening.
My mind raced. Had I been hacked? Has someone drained my account? My fingers fumbled over my phone, dialing the bank. Every ring felt like a hammer pounding against my ribs.
"Hello, this is Greenstone Bank. How may I assist you?"
"My account—there's nothing in it! There was money yesterday. Thousands." My voice cracked. "It's all gone."
"Let me check, ma'am. Can you confirm your account number?"
I rattled it off, my stomach twisting into knots. Seconds stretched into eternity as I listened to the soft clicking of the keyboard on the other end.
Then silence. Too long.
Finally, the representative spoke again, their tone careful, almost hesitant.
"It looks like these withdrawals have been happening over the past few weeks. They were all authorized under your name."
I gripped the edge of my desk. "That's impossible. I didn't authorize anything!"
"According to our records, there was a prior arrangement to clear an outstanding financial obligation."
"What outstanding—" My breath caught.
The loan.
My knees buckled, and I sank into my chair.
No.
I had buried that mistake. I locked it away and convinced myself it was in the past. I had sworn never to look back.
But he hadn't forgotten.
"Who was the recipient of the funds?" I asked, my voice eerily calm.
"A Mr. Damian Nellie."
A cold chill crept through my veins.
Damian.
He had done this. He had set me up and tricked me into signing something I hadn't fully understood.
Bile rose in my throat.
"Is there any way to reverse it?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"I'm afraid not, Ms. Hilly. The transactions were legally processed."
Legally processed.
I hung up.
The apartment, my sanctuary—my proof that I had built a life without him—suddenly felt like a trap, closing in.
I shot to my feet, knocking over papers and sending my laptop crashing to the floor. The sound of it breaking was sharp, final.
How could I have been so blind? How did I not see this coming?
My phone buzzed. A message.
Damian: I told you, Celeste. You were never getting away from me.
Rage ignited in my chest. My hands trembled as I typed.
Me: You bastard. You stole everything.
Three dots appeared.
Damian: Stole? No, sweetheart. I simply took what was owed. You signed the agreement. Your fault if you didn't read the fine print.
I hurled my phone against the wall. It hit with a dull thud and slid to the floor, the screen cracked.
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
The door flew open. Riley, my best friend and roommate, rushed in, eyes wide.
"What the hell is going on?" She took in the wreckage—papers everywhere, my shattered laptop, my wild expression.
"He took it," I choked out. "All of it."
Her brow furrowed. "Who?"
"Damian. He drained my account."
Her expression darkened. "That son of a—"
"I have nothing, Riley." My voice wavered. "Not even rent."
Her gaze softened, and she stepped closer, gripping my shoulders. "We'll figure this out."
I let out a hollow laugh. "I walked right into his trap."
Riley's jaw tightened. "That bastard is not going to win. We'll fight this."
"How?" My voice cracked. "I don't have money for lawyers. I don't have anything."
She hesitated.
"I need to see him." The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
Riley's eyes widened. "Celeste, no. That's exactly what he wants."
"I don't care. I need to see just how far he's willing to go."
Before she could stop me, I grabbed my coat and stormed out.
---
The city streets blurred as I forced myself to breathe. To focus.
By the time I reached his office, my fury had crystallized into something sharper, more dangerous.
I shoved open the glass doors and strode past the receptionist.
"Ms. Hilly, you can't just—"
"Watch me."
I found his office and threw the door open.
And there he was.
Damian lounged behind his desk, a slow smirk curling his lips.
"Celeste," he drawled as if I were an old friend stopping by for coffee. "What a surprise."
I slammed my hands onto his desk. "Give me my money back."
His dark eyes gleamed with amusement. "I don't think so."
"You set me up."
"You were careless."
My fists clenched. "You've made your point. You've ruined me. Now undo it."
He stood, rounding the desk with a deliberate slowness, his presence suffocating.
"You think this is about money?" His fingers trailed lightly down my arm, and I flinched. "This is about you understanding that you don't walk away from me. Ever."
My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. "You don't own me."
His smirk deepened. "Don't I?"
I took a step back, spine stiff. "Watch me rebuild from nothing, Damian. And when I do, you'll regret ever thinking you had power over me."
Something flickered in his expression, just for a second. Then it was gone.
"We'll see about that," he murmured.
I turned and walked out without looking back.
The second I stepped onto the street, reality hit me like a freight train.
I had nothing.
No money. No way to fight back.
But as I looked up at the night sky, one thing was crystal clear.
Damian Nellie had just made his biggest mistake.
Because I wasn't going down without a war.