Perfidious Persiflage

Perfidious - deliberately faithless, disloyal and treacherous

Persiflage - light playful conversation

Jackson was always good at manipulation - I just didn’t know it until the entire situation unravelled beyond my control.

Or maybe, deep down, I did know, but ambition had blurred the edges. Maybe the dream of owning my own business made me deaf and blind to the small warnings, the subtle shifts in his tone, the way his smile never quite reached his eyes.

He didn’t reveal that part of himself until after the ink had dried on the contract.

Until after we’d begun to see real progress, real financial gain, real possibility.

That’s when the mask loosened.

Looking back, I can see it clearly:

The perfidious streak ~ that deliberate faithlessness wrapped in charm -

and the persiflage, the playful banter that wasn’t playful at all, just a soft-edged way of steering me where he wanted me to go.

He was so very good at being treacherous without ever raising his voice.

So good at weaving deception into a conversation like it was a joke we were both in on.

So good at making me believe the betrayal was somehow my fault.

Tuesday. The day began as any ordinary Tuesday always did, the kind of day that should have passed without consequence, without mishap or missteps. We were reviewing invoices when Jackson corrected a number I hadn’t even finished writing yet. Not as a guess - but with an assured certainty. He slid the paper toward me with that easy smile of his, the one that always felt like a shared secret, except this time the secret wasn’t mine. His handwriting was already on the page, neat and confident, as if he’d been signing my name long before I walked into the room.

Something in my chest tightened - like a light switch had suddenly been pulled, illuminating a long locked dark room...awaking a kind of fear...but first came ...recognition.

Then a quiet click, like a lock turning. Opening a dark door.

He laughed off my questioning look, of course. Called it efficiency. Called it teamwork.

But his eyes lingered on me a moment too long, waiting to see if I’d protest.

Waiting to see how much I was willing to overlook. And I did overlook it.

But only because I didn’t yet understand that this was the first thread he meant to pull loose.

...

The call and the visit from the accountant was the real beginning of the bad news.

The first real proof of our downfall came two weeks later, when our accountant, Mr. Mallory, called out of the blue. He never called ~ he emailed, always ~ so the sound of his voice on my phone felt like an alarm bell muffled under a pillow. He cleared his throat three times before speaking, each one a harbinger of small confessions to come.

“Could we meet in person?” he asked. “Soon.”

The urgency. Soon sounded ominous. I took a deep breath.

Something in the way he said it made my stomach erupt in somersaults.

There was a silent knowing...something foreboding approaching.

.....

When Mallory arrived that afternoon, he didn’t even take off his coat. He stood in the doorway of the office like someone bracing for bad weather. Jackson greeted him with that same polished charm, but Mallory’s eyes flicked to me, not him, and that was when I knew for sure that everything was horribly wrong.

He laid a folder on the table ~ thin, but heavy in the way certain truths are heavy.

“I’ve been reviewing your quarterly statements,” he said, voice careful, almost apologetic. “There are… grave discrepancies.”

Jackson laughed, too quickly.

“Accounting always finds discrepancies,” he said, waving a hand as if brushing dust from the air. “That’s why we hire them.”

But Mallory didn’t laugh. He didn’t even look at Jackson.

He looked at me, and only me, as if he needed to make sure I understood the gravity of the situation before the ground gave way.

“There are signatures that don’t match,” he said quietly.

“And withdrawals you didn’t authorize.”

The room went deathly quiet. Even the air seemed oddly still.

And in that silence, I felt it - the truth settling over me like cold ash.

This wasn’t a misunderstanding. This wasn’t teamwork.

This was the beginning of the unraveling.

...

The confrontation with Jackson was inevitable.

After Mr. Mallory left, the office felt too quiet, as if the walls themselves were too embarrassed to breathe. Jackson closed the door with a soft click - and for the first time, I realized how much strength can hide inside gentleness.

He didn’t speak at first.

He just watched me as I looked over the loss and bankruptcy looming in the distance. But even more dire...the names of the dangerous people whom Jackson had become allied with. My name was on every transaction that could either get me killed or jailed.

I looked up and met his long, assessing stare that felt like being measured for something I hadn’t agreed to wear.

“So,” he said finally, voice smooth as lacquer, “you look a little… rattled.”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

My throat felt tight, like the truth was trying to claw its way out.

"How long has this been going on, Jackson". I finally croaked.

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, the way someone approaches a skittish animal - or a witness.

“You know accountants,” he continued. “Always seeing ghosts in the numbers. Always imagining problems where there aren’t any.”

But his smile didn’t match his words.

It was too sharp, too fixed, like it had been pinned to his face.

“I didn’t authorize those withdrawals,” I said. My voice surprised me - steadier than I felt.

Jackson’s expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes did.

A faint flicker.

An uncontrolled tightening. A shadow.

“You’re sure about that?” he asked quietly.

He had a sureness, a curious confused smirk. Testing me.

“Yes,” I said.

He exhaled through his nose, a soft, humorless sound.

“Then maybe you should be more careful,” he murmured. “About what you sign. About what you remember. About who you trust.”

The floor seemed to tilt upwards towards me.

It wasn't the words themselves, but the way he said them - as a warning, as a reminder of something I hadn’t realized until that moment:

He thought he had leverage. He thought he had already won.

He leaned in, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Partnerships,” he said, “are built on confidence. And if you start doubting me now… well. That could get messy.”

He straightened, smoothed his shirt cuffs, and smiled again - the practiced, public smile he used for clients and cameras.

“Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”

And then he turned to walk away, leaving the air colder behind him.

"Jackson...You ae so very good at Perfidious - deliberately faithless, disloyal and treacherous Persiflage...so good at your playful deceiving actions and conversations".

"What the hell does that even mean, have you gone crazy".

....

I wasn't thinking with any logic or common sense anymore. I saw all that I had sacrificed for years being flushed down the drain.

I saw my ruin. Heard my mother's voice warning me about Jackson over and over again.

My hands reached out and grabbed the paperweight. He had bought it on one of his many trips abroad somewhere. A huge elephant with trunk upturned for luck.

I had the advantage of being slightly taller than he was...and I was not thinking straight. My hands seemed to be acting of their own accord.

I slammed the 'lucky' ornament down on his head with all of the strength that I could muster ...anger fuelling my adrenaline infused rage.

Jackson fell hard to the floor. I dropped the elephant... Strangely, it did not shatter. Time stood still for a long moment.

Then my brain snapped back on.

God...the blood was seeping into the rug. There was so much of it as I stood there stunned.

I picked up the paperweight, shoved it into a plastic bag, grabbed my key and purse, locked the office and headed to my car.

I would have to ditch my phone and car on the way to..... Where was I going. I had no idea. I had some money saved under my mother's maiden name, so that could tide me over until....

God...I had made everything worse. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to to do.

I had better warn the accountant to be careful...before I crush and throw away the damned phone.

Bad people would be coming to collect Jackson's debts. Mr. Mallory said it was quite substantial.

The police would be looking for me.

I had to get as far away as possible. But first...I needed cash.