Another Slap

The lingering thoughts of Maya's odd question from dinner faded the second Cora stepped into the morning sunlight. Mason's resemblance to a certain billionaire was a problem for another day. Today, she had a war to win. She pushed through the revolving glass doors of the Aura building, her sharp stilettos clicking rhythmically against the polished marble floor. She wore a tailored crimson pantsuit that commanded attention, her posture straight and unrelenting. She was ready to claim her territory.

The receptionists scrambled from behind their massive curved desk, forming a nervous barricade in her path.

"Sorry, Miss Atwood. We are not allowed to let you enter." The taller receptionist swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward the floor.

The lobby staff shifted on their feet, radiating awkward tension. They all remembered the explosive scene at the company entrance two days prior. Gossip had already spread through every cubicle and breakroom on the lower floors. Everyone knew this elegant, imposing woman was the illegitimate daughter of the Atwood family and the mysterious high-paid designer Victor Crawford had headhunted.

Cora retrieved her sleek smartphone from her designer bag. She tapped the screen, intending to dial Milo to clear the path. A manicured hand darted across her field of vision and snatched the device right out of her loose grip. Cora did not even need to turn her head to identify the culprit. The cloying scent of Vanessa's signature floral perfume announced her arrival before she even spoke.

"Why are you here again?" Vanessa sneered, her voice dripping with unfiltered irritation.

"Miss Atwood," the receptionists chorused, dipping their heads in immediate submission to their boss.

Cora stood her ground, turning to face her sister with a serene expression. "Because your boyfriend invited me here and offered me a high salary. He did not want to let me go and even doubled my pay. Didn't he tell you? Oh, I forgot. You only work for him, just like me."

Vanessa stiffened. Her manicured nails dug into the leather casing of Cora's phone. She felt the heavy gaze of the lobby staff burning into her back. The embarrassment flared hot in her chest, threatening to break her composure. She forced her facial muscles to relax, painting a sickeningly sweet smile over her features to maintain her professional facade.

"Cora, if you want to enter Aura, why didn't you just tell me? It is our family's company. As your sister, how could I refuse your request to join us? You didn't make it clear the day before yesterday and caused a major misunderstanding between us. How about this? Since you have design skills, you can join the design department." Vanessa reached out, her fingers extended to clasp Cora's forearm in a show of fake sisterly affection.

Cora sidestepped with razor-sharp precision. The air swiped past her sleeve as Vanessa's hand caught nothing but empty space. Cora knew better. Every physical touch from this woman in the past had resulted in a trap, a staged fall, or a twisted accusation. She refused to play that game again.

"Miss Atwood, please give me my phone back. As for my post, I think you had better ask your boyfriend." Cora held her hand out, her palm facing up.

Vanessa ground her molars together, a flash of pure hatred passing through her eyes. She maintained her plastic smile for the watching employees. "Cora, I was just kidding. Wait a minute. I will call Victor."

She handed the phone back. Cora accepted her device, slipping it into her purse with a faint, knowing smirk. The actual employment contract sat heavy in her bag, signed and sealed, but she preferred to let Vanessa humiliate herself on her own terms.

Vanessa pulled out her own phone and dialed. The line connected after two rings.

"What is the matter?" Victor's deep, freezing tone echoed slightly through the receiver.

Vanessa pitched her voice an octave higher, adopting a fragile, aggrieved tone as if the billionaire were standing right there to comfort her. "Victor! I just want to ask about my sister."

"She is the vice president of Aura, mainly responsible for designing and processing. That is her area of expertise." Victor stated the facts with zero hesitation.

Vanessa let out a raw, involuntary gasp. The sound tore from her throat in genuine shock. Vice president? That meant Cora would be second only to her in the entire corporate structure. Humiliation washed over her in freezing waves. She gripped the phone until her knuckles turned white. Her mind raced with venomous thoughts. She assumed Cora had used some filthy, seductive trick to tempt Victor into handing over such a massive title. Aura belonged to her. Victor belonged to her.

Vanessa ended the call and shoved the phone into her pocket. A gloomy shadow crossed her face, but she quickly morphed it back into a patronizing mask. She walked closer to Cora.

"Cora, you could tell me if you want to be the vice president. You do not have to bother Victor. He is busy and does not sleep well." Vanessa let the implication hang heavy in the air. She wanted everyone in the lobby to know she shared a bed with the billionaire, intimately monitoring his sleep schedule.

A nearby receptionist held her breath, her eyes wide as saucers, mentally calculating the scandalous love triangle playing out in front of her. Cora ignored the desperate bait. She offered a calm, indifferent stare.

"I did not want to bother your boyfriend, but he hired me with a high salary. He is my employer, so I can only sign the contract with him. You are not qualified to do so!" Cora challenged, her tone ringing with authority.

Vanessa’s jaw clenched. Her hatred boiled over, yet she possessed no logical counter to the insult. Cora stepped into her personal space. A bright, razor-sharp smile bloomed across her pretty face. She leaned in, her lips hovering inches from Vanessa's ear. She dropped her voice to a dangerous, localized whisper.

"This time, not only will I get Aura back, but I will also take revenge!"

Cora pulled back, her smile flawless and unyielding. She spun on her stiletto heels and marched straight toward the VIP elevator without a single backward glance. She left Vanessa standing in the lobby, trembling with silent, impotent rage.

The elevator dinged softly, depositing Cora on the executive floor. She strolled into the administration department. The sprawling open-plan office fell dead silent. Keyboards stopped clacking. The administrative employees stared at her with wide, nervous eyes, wishing the floor would swallow them whole. The screaming match from two days ago remained branded into their memories. Nobody had prepared an office for her.

Cora did not unleash her temper on the staff. She understood the corporate food chain. These people were merely terrified pawns following Vanessa's strict orders to freeze her out. She bypassed them all, dialing Milo's direct line. Within three minutes, an executive assistant hurried down the hall and unlocked a massive corner suite for her.

The office boasted floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bustling city. Plush cream carpets lined the floor. A massive mahogany desk anchored the center of the room. The space had actually been meticulously prepped and decorated under Vanessa's strict instructions for 'Evelyn', the eagerly anticipated design director. Neither Vanessa nor the staff had ever anticipated that the legendary Evelyn would be Cora Atwood.

Cora settled into the ergonomic leather chair. She dragged a stack of recent design portfolios across the desk and flipped them open. Her brow furrowed as she turned page after page. The garments displayed in the glossy files lacked any spark of innovation. The winter collection sketches displayed an overuse of heavy wools cut into boxy, unflattering shapes. The spring line relied on muted, depressing beige tones that offered zero visual interest. The silhouettes felt rigid, the color palettes screamed conservative safety, and the fabric choices felt decades out of date. Aura had once been a beacon of fashion under her mother's guidance. Now, looking at this old-fashioned garbage, Cora understood exactly why the brand had been bleeding market share year after year.

"Did you turn a deaf ear to what I said?"

A voice, low and freezing, shattered the quiet concentration of the room. Cora jolted in her seat and snapped her head up. Victor Crawford loomed over her desk. The heavy oak door had swung open without a single knock. She had not even heard his footsteps on the thick carpet. His broad shoulders blocked out the overhead light, casting a long, intimidating shadow across her scattered design files. His jaw was set in rigid fury.

"Mr. Crawford, what is wrong with you? If you have nothing to do, go see your girlfriend." Cora leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. She felt zero obligation to stroke this billionaire's ego. She earned her own money. She relied on her own undeniable talent.

"Why did you hit Vanessa again?" Victor slammed a hand down on the edge of her desk.

Cora blinked, her mind stalling for a fraction of a second. The pieces slammed together in her head. A bitter sigh escaped her lips.

"What do you mean? Vanessa spoke ill of me again, didn't she? Get her in here. I would like to see how I hit her." Cora stared him down, her eyes burning with defiance.

"Are you still going to deny it?" Victor sneered, his eyes dark with judgment.

Cora rolled her eyes at the ceiling. She dropped her hands to her lap and refused to utter another word in her own defense. The lesson had been learned long ago. Those who believed in you never required an explanation, whereas those determined to doubt you remained deaf to the truth. She stared out the window, ignoring his furious presence.

To Cora's mild surprise, the office door clicked open again. Milo stepped through the frame, escorting Vanessa inside. Cora's gaze snapped to her sister's face. The right side of Vanessa's cheek glowed an angry, swollen red. Faint outlines of fingers bloomed across her pale skin. It was a masterpiece of a fake injury. Vanessa had clearly struck herself or had a loyal servant do it to secure Victor's protective wrath.

Cora did not waste a single breath on words. She pushed her chair back, the wheels gliding smoothly over the plush carpet. She stood up, her gaze locking onto her sister's face like a predator finding its prey in the wild. She closed the distance between them in three long strides. Vanessa opened her mouth, her fake tears already welling up to sell the performance. She never got the chance to speak. Cora raised her right arm high, rotated her shoulder to gather momentum, and brought her palm crashing across the left side of Vanessa's face.

*Smack.*

The sharp, brutal sound of skin colliding with skin cracked through the spacious office like a whip. The sheer force of the blow snapped Vanessa's head to the side, sending her perfectly styled hair flying across her face in a messy tangle. The impact stung Cora's own palm, sending a hot rush of adrenaline straight up her arm. She lowered her hand, her breathing steady and calm.

The room froze. A suffocating silence swallowed the space. Milo stared in wide-eyed shock, his jaw dropping slightly. Victor was the first to break the paralysis. The veins in his neck bulged against his collar.

"Cora Atwood!" Victor roared through gritted teeth, his protective instincts flaring hot and fast.

Cora turned to face him, a cool half-smile playing on her lips. She pointed a manicured finger at Vanessa's now-symmetrical injuries.

"This slap is from me, Mr. Crawford. Notice how the two hand imprints are visibly different. A natural right-handed strike lands on the left cheek. Her first injury is on the right side. You do the math." Cora shifted her fierce gaze back to her sister. "Did it hurt, Miss Atwood? How could you be so cruel to yourself?"

The physical pain finally registered on Vanessa's face, merging seamlessly with her fabricated emotional distress. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over her lashes in fat, shimmering drops. She raised a trembling hand to cover her throbbing cheek. She looked up at Victor with a heartbreaking, timid sadness.

"Cora, how could you..." Vanessa choked out, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

Cora lifted her hands and brought them together. *Clap. Clap. Clap.* The mocking applause echoed off the glass walls.

"Just drop the act! You are loving this! I think you should have been an actress!" The disdain in her voice cut through the room like a serrated blade. A single slap could never make up for the lifetime of betrayal and theft Vanessa had inflicted upon her, but exposing the lie right in front of Victor felt incredible.

Victor shoved his way between the two women. His chest heaved with anger as he glared down at Cora. "Apologize!"

Cora met his furious stare without flinching. "It seems you have a bad memory, Mr. Crawford. She should be the one apologizing, not me. Your girlfriend defamed me several times, and you apologized to me on her behalf. Today, she did the exact same thing again. I slapped her just because she falsely accused me of doing so!"

Vanessa stood behind Victor, her chest tight with a consuming, suffocating hatred. Her plan had backfired, but she refused to lose the war. She wiped a tear from her chin, adopting a tone of defeated martyrdom.

"Well, Victor, forget it. I know Cora does not like me because she thought that my mother and I took our father away from her. If this slap could make her feel better, it will be worth it." Vanessa sniffled softly, looking at the floor in mock surrender.

Cora clapped her hands together once more, a harsh, ringing sound of pure contempt. "Miss Atwood, it is really a pity that you did not become an actress!"

"Don't go too far!" Victor warned, utterly baffled as to why Cora remained so mean and aggressive while Vanessa acted so humble.