It was supposed to be just another mundane afternoon at the office. Vanessa, dressed impeccably in a white satin blouse and sleek black leather high waistted midi pencil skirt, clicked across the lot on her stilettos, unaware that today would end in violence.
From the shadows of the parked cars, Mia stepped forward. She was dressed down — black tank top, jeans, and low heels — but her eyes were sharp, focused. This wasn’t a chance meeting. It was deliberate.
Vanessa’s face tightened as she spotted her. “Mia… what are you doing here?” she asked, unease already creeping into her voice.
“You thought you could walk away?” Mia replied, her voice cold. “After everything you did?”
Vanessa glanced around the nearly empty lot, her nerves fraying. “That was a misunderstanding. I never meant—”
But the apology never finished. Mia’s fist shot forward, brutally fast. Vanessa stumbled back, her heels wobbling, but there was no mercy in Mia’s attack. A flurry of blows landed — a strike to the jaw, a sharp elbow to the ribs — the kind of assault that made it clear: this was no spontaneous fight. It was punishment.
Vanessa collapsed against a car, her once-pristine blouse stained, her breath shallow. Mia stood over her, fists clenched, eyes fierce. “Don’t ever think you can cross me again.”
With that, she walked off, leaving Vanessa broken and gasping on the pavement, the hum of the city oblivious to the savage justice dealt in the quiet corner of that lot.
Vanessa clutched her side, trying to steady her breathing. Her knees buckled as she leaned against the silver car behind her, legs trembling in heels far too delicate for what had just happened. But Mia wasn’t done. Not even close.
“You don’t get to just talk your way out of this,” Mia growled, her steps deliberate as she closed the distance.
Vanessa tried to speak — maybe to plead, maybe to warn — but the moment her mouth opened, Mia’s open palm cracked across her cheek. The force whipped her head to the side, dark hair flying as a gasp escaped her lips.
Then the fists came again — raw, precise, unforgiving.
A punch to the stomach folded Vanessa over, her body convulsing as the wind shot from her lungs. Another came to her ribs, a dull thud that echoed off the nearby cars. Vanessa tried to shield herself, but Mia shoved her down hard — her back slamming against the pavement, the heels of her shoes scraping uselessly.
The parking lot was silent except for the harsh breaths and the soft crunch of gravel under Mia’s steps.
Mia crouched down next to her, grabbing a handful of Vanessa’s blouse. “You think those fake apologies and soft looks make up for what you did?” she hissed.
Vanessa whimpered — the sound barely audible — but Mia didn’t care.
She dragged her roughly across the asphalt, shredding the back of her skirt, before raining down more strikes. A slap. A punch. A knee into her side that made Vanessa cry out. The polished woman from earlier was gone — now reduced to a battered figure in a crumpled mess of silk and vinyl.
Finally, after what felt like ages, Mia stood.
She looked down at Vanessa, who lay still — lips bloodied, hair wild, her body barely moving.
“This was mercy,” Mia muttered. “Next time, it won’t be.”
And with that, she walked away into the heat of the afternoon, leaving behind a broken silhouette on the cracked pavement — the cost of unfinished business finally paid in full.
