Chapter 5: Karmic Justice

Chapter 5: Karmic Justice

The corner office felt less like a conquest and more like a reclamation. The lingering scent of Rob’s expensive, obnoxious cologne had finally been exorcised by an open window and a small succulent Alex had placed on the corner of the vast mahogany desk. For two weeks, he had thrived. The department, liberated from the oppressive cloud of Rob’s incompetence and paranoia, was running with a quiet efficiency that was more productive than any fear-based motivation had ever been. Projects were on schedule, morale was high, and for the first time in years, Alex didn't feel a knot of dread in his stomach when he badged into the building.

His victory felt complete, a clean, surgical strike with a perfect outcome. He had dismantled his tormentor’s life, protected his family’s honor, and been rewarded with the very power Rob had abused. He was settling into his new role, enjoying the peace he had so meticulously engineered. He thought of Ben, who had already forgotten the incident in the park and was now obsessed with drawing a new superhero, “Laser Llama.” The memory was a warm, protective glow in Alex’s chest. This was why he’d done it.

He was in the middle of approving a budget adjustment when the email arrived. It didn't come to his corporate address but to his private one, the one he rarely used for anything but personal correspondence. The sender was an anonymous, jumbled string of characters. The subject line was blank. The body of the message contained only five, heart-stopping words.

I know what you did.

The blood in Alex’s veins turned to ice water. The calm, orderly world he had just built fractured, threatening to collapse into a million pieces. His mind raced, replaying every step of the plan. It had been perfect. Untraceable. Jake had used a burner phone. They had met in a dive bar with no cameras. There were no witnesses who could connect the heartbroken stranger at the BBQ to Alex Sterling, the quiet project coordinator. So who could possibly know?

His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his phone, his thumb dialing Jake’s number before his conscious mind had even finished processing the threat.

“Talk to me,” Jake answered, his voice instantly alert, sensing the tension.

“I got an email,” Alex said, his own voice a low, strained whisper. He read the five words aloud.

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath. “Who’s it from? Can you trace it?”

“Anonymous address. Probably routed through a dozen proxies. It’s a ghost,” Alex replied, his analytical mind kicking back in, fighting through the wave of panic. “It could be a bluff. Someone from the party who thought the whole thing seemed… theatrical.”

“Or it’s someone who knows,” Jake said, his voice hard. “Give me an hour. I’ll see what I can shake loose. Don’t reply. Don’t do anything. Just sit tight.”

But an hour later, a second email arrived from the same sender.

Coffee shop. The Daily Grind on Elm Street. Tomorrow at noon. Come alone.

This wasn’t a bluff. This was a summons. Alex forwarded the message to Jake, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The response came back almost immediately.

Elm Street? That’s two blocks from the Vance’s old house. This isn’t random, Alex. It’s his wife. It has to be.

Sarah Vance. The image of her shattered face at the party flashed in Alex’s mind. Was this her revenge? Was she going to expose him, drag him down with the wreckage of her husband’s life? The fear was suffocating. He could lose everything—the job, his reputation, maybe even face criminal charges for conspiracy or harassment.

The next morning, he walked into The Daily Grind feeling like a man on his way to his own execution. He chose a small table in the back, his back to the wall, his eyes scanning the entrance. At precisely 12:02 PM, Sarah Vance walked in.

She looked different. The brittle, carefully maintained facade of the perfect corporate wife was gone. Her hair was pulled back simply, she wore no makeup, and her clothes were casual, comfortable. There were tired lines around her eyes, but for the first time since Alex had seen her, her expression wasn’t strained. It was calm. Resolute.

She spotted him immediately and walked over, her gaze direct and unflinching. She sat down without a word, placing her handbag on the empty chair beside her.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice even.

Alex’s hands were clenched into fists under the table. He decided against pretense. “What do you want, Sarah?”

She looked at him, and a small, sad smile touched her lips. “I saw you,” she said quietly. “At the park. The day Rob… the day he was so cruel to your cousin. I saw the look on your face. You didn't say a word, but I saw it. And when your ‘friend’ showed up at our party, I knew. I knew it was you.”

Alex’s stomach plummeted. This was it. She was laying the foundation for her blackmail. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t insult my intelligence. For ten years, I lived with that man’s casual cruelty. That little performance was the most creative, most perfectly targeted thing I have ever seen. And I’m not here to threaten you.”

She leaned forward, her eyes locking onto his. “I’m here to thank you.”

Alex stared at her, utterly bewildered. “Thank me?”

“You gave me a gift, Alex,” she said, her voice gaining a strength he’d never heard from her before. “I had been trying to leave Rob for years. But he was emotionally abusive, a master manipulator. He had me convinced I was crazy, that I was the problem. He had our entire social circle convinced he was the perfect husband. If I had left, I would have been the villain. He would have destroyed me.”

She took a slow sip of the water the waiter had brought. “But what your cousin did… it was a masterpiece. That lie was so specific, so deeply, bizarrely intimate,” she said, a flicker of dark amusement in her eyes as she spoke the name, “that Yaby Boda doll… it was so preposterous it had to be true. You didn’t just ruin his reputation; you gave me the moral authority to leave without question. You gave me my freedom. You gave my children a chance at a life free from him.”

She reached into her handbag and pulled out a small, black USB flash drive, placing it on the table between them. It lay there like a piece of captured darkness.

“Consider this a reward,” she said. “And a bit of insurance for both of us. Rob wasn't just a bully; he was a criminal. He was as sloppy with the company’s books as he was with his own life. That drive contains everything. Doctored expense reports, illegal kickback schemes, evidence of embezzlement going back five years. Enough to put him in prison.”

Alex stared at the flash drive, his mind reeling from the whiplash of the last ten minutes. He had walked in here expecting ruin and was being handed a nuclear bomb.

“Why give this to me?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Because you have the power to use it,” Sarah replied, standing up. “I just want him gone. Permanently. I want to know he can never claw his way back into a position of power, never hurt anyone again the way he hurt my family. The way he tried to hurt yours.”

She gave him a final, decisive nod. “What you did was an act of karmic justice, Alex. This is just the final receipt.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the coffee shop, leaving Alex alone with the small device that held the last remnants of Rob Vance’s life. He picked it up. It felt impossibly heavy. His initial goal had been personal, a precise act of revenge for Ben. But this… this was something else. This was a chance to deliver a final, undeniable verdict. To ensure that the rot Rob represented was cut out completely, not just from Alex’s life, but from the world he inhabited.

He walked out of the coffee shop and back towards the gleaming tower of Sterling Corp. He wasn't just the Interim Manager anymore. He was the final arbiter of Rob Vance’s fate. As he stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the executive floor, his purpose was diamond-hard and crystal clear.

He was going to erase the last trace of Rob Vance for good.