Chapter 41: Full Circle
649 words
The fryer timer screeched, a piercing electronic wail that drilled straight into Julian’s temples.
He flinched, splashing hot oil onto his wrist. The burn was immediate and sharp, but he didn't gasp. He didn't have the energy left to react.
"Order up, Blackwood! Stop sleeping on the job!"
Julian looked up. The shift manager, a pimply twenty-two-year-old named Kyle, was snapping his fingers in front of Julian's face. Three years ago, Julian wouldn't have let someone like Kyle shine his Italian leather loafers.
Now, Kyle owned him.
"I'm moving, sir," Julian muttered, the word tasting like ash in his mouth.
He scooped the fries into the cardboard sleeve. His hands, once manicured and accustomed to signing million-dollar checks, were red, chapped, and permanently stained with grease.
He handed the tray through the window.
"Don't forget to wipe down the lobby," Kyle barked, turning back to his phone. "And check the restrooms. Someone missed the bowl."
Julian swallowed his pride. It was a jagged pill that never went down smooth. He needed this paycheck. His rent at the boarding house was due in two days, and he was already short.
He grabbed the gray bucket and the rag that smelled of mildew and stale bleach.
He dragged his feet across the sticky linoleum floor of the dining area. His back screamed in protest. He was thirty-nine, but he felt eighty. The stress of the trial, the seizure of his assets, and the months of living on ramen had hollowed him out.
He reached Table Six. A family was eating there earlier. They’d left a mess of ketchup smears and crumbled napkins.
As he wiped the table, the volume on the mounted television in the corner suddenly spiked.
"...and in today's top story, the rebranding is official."
Julian froze. The rag dripped gray water onto his shoe.
On the screen, a skyscraper gleaned in the sunlight. His skyscraper. The sleek black glass he had commissioned. But the sign was different. The jagged ‘B’ was gone, replaced by a golden lion.
"Leo Life Sciences formally opened its doors today," the reporter said, her voice breathless with admiration. "We go live to CEO Sarah Jenkins."
The camera cut to a woman sitting in a chair that looked like a throne.
Sarah.
Julian’s breath hitched. She looked... transcendent.
She wore a white suit, crisp and tailored, a stark contrast to the thrift-store rags she had worn when he kicked her out. Her hair was glossy, her skin luminous. She didn't look tired. She looked invincible.
"Ms. Jenkins," the interviewer asked, leaning in. "You purchased your ex-husband's bankrupt firm for pennies on the dollar. Some on Wall Street called it vivid revenge. What do you call it?"
Julian took a step toward the screen, mesmerizingly horrified. He saw the diamond earrings catching the studio lights. The ones she bought herself.
On the screen, Sarah smiled. It wasn't a warm smile. It was the smile of a predator who had finished its meal.
"I call it a correction," Sarah said smoothly.
"But the cost," the interviewer pressed. "The legal battles, the public scrutiny. Was it worth the price?"
Sarah looked away from the interviewer. She looked directly into the camera lens.
For a second, Julian felt she was looking right through the greasy screen, past the ketchup stains, straight into his wretched soul.
"People think the price of a mistake is just money," Sarah said, her voice crystal clear over the hum of the diner's refrigerator. "But the truth always costs more than you think."
"Hey! Blackwood!" Kyle yelled from the kitchen. "I don't pay you to watch TV! Scrub the toilets!"
Julian lowered his head. On the screen, the woman who used to love him faded to black, replaced by a commercial for life insurance.
He picked up his bucket and walked toward the bathroom.
End of Chapter 41
