Chapter2 Revenge
1188 Words
Chapter2 Revenge
Lynn’s POV
The glass doors slam shut behind me, echoing like a gunshot.
Cold air hits my face. My overnight bag cuts into my shoulder, heavy with the weight of betrayal and humiliation.
Every step on the marble floor feels too loud—like the building itself is mocking me.
Breathe. Just breathe. Don’t fall apart. Not here.
Hannah’s office door is open. I can hear her laughter—bright, easy, belonging to a world where fiancés don’t f**k your sister in your custom Porsche.
“Lynn!” She looks up, smiling—until she sees my face. The color drains from hers instantly.
“Oh my God, what happened to you?”
I drop into the chair across from her, my hands trembling.
“I need to call off my engagement.”
“What?”
I shove my phone across her desk, finger hovering over play.
“Charles’s sleeping with Amy. In my car.”
The video starts.
Charles’s body. Amy’s red hair. The sounds. My leather seats.
Silence. Then—
“That f*****g bastard.” Hannah’s voice is sharp, trembling with fury. “That absolute piece of trash.”
I stare at her, but my mind feels far away. Like I’m watching myself drown from above.
“He threw away gold and picked up garbage,” Hannah spits. “You’re brilliant, gorgeous, successful—how the hell does he choose her?”
My gaze drifts to the photo on her wall. Me and Charles at last year’s charity gala. His arm around my waist, my smile wide and stupid. We looked happy.
Was any of it real?
The ache spreads through my chest—burning, raw, endless.
The wedding dress. The honeymoon plans. The dream house.
All of it built on lies.
“Lynn,” Hannah says softly. “I’m so sorry.”
I look up, my voice flat. “I don’t need sorry. I need protection. Financially.”
She straightens, instantly in lawyer mode. “Cancel everything joint. Accounts, cards, assets.”
I’m already typing. “His card—canceled.”
“What about property?”
“The house is in my name,” I say coldly, opening real estate listings. “I’m selling it. Today.”
“Maybe you should think this—”
“No.” My tone slices the air. “I’m done thinking. Done being the fool who trusted him.”
I pull up Charles’s spending history. My pulse spikes. Line after line—designer suits, hotels, restaurants, gifts that never reached me.
Then I see the total.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
The world goes still.
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper.
“What?”
“He’s spent over half a million of my money. On her.”
Hannah goes white. “That’s—”
“Theft.” My voice is dead calm. “He’s been stealing from me to fund his affair.”
The phone buzzes.
Charles.
Ice floods my veins.
“Don’t pick up,” Hannah hisses. “Not yet.”
The phone keeps ringing. His contact photo—his smile—makes my skin crawl.
“I have to.”
I swipe to answer. “Hey, babe.”
“What the hell did you do?” His voice is sharp, cold. The mask is gone. “My card just got declined.”
I keep my tone light. “Oh? That’s strange.”
“The bank said it was canceled. What the f**k, Lynn?”
“I was reviewing our accounts,” I say smoothly. “You know, wedding prep.”
“You don’t make financial decisions without me!”
Without you? You’ve been making decisions with my sister.
“It’s my money, Charles,” I say quietly. “From my job. My inheritance.”
“We’re getting married in a month,” he snaps. “What’s yours is mine.”
Hannah mouths the word asshole.
Charles’s voice softens suddenly, dripping fake warmth. “You didn’t come home last night. I was waiting. I had something special planned.”
I almost laugh.
You mean the lingerie, the champagne, the cake with ‘Soon to be Mrs. Patterson’ written in gold?
“I had to work late,” I lie.
“Well, when you’re done playing lawyer, we’ll talk about this card issue. I’ve got expenses, Lynn.”
Like hotel rooms and my sister’s jewelry.
“Of course,” I say sweetly.
“Good. And Lynn?” His tone drops low. “I love you, baby. Don’t forget that.”
The line goes dead.
Hannah’s eyes flash. “You’re not actually going home tonight, right?”
“Hell no.” I grab my bag, adrenaline thrumming. “I’m checking into a hotel. Then I’m calling my lawyer.”
“The evidence?”
I hold up my phone. “Backed up. Cloud, external drive, multiple copies.”
Hannah smiles like a predator. “That’s my girl. Let’s make this bastard regret everything.”
Something shifts inside me—something sharp and unstoppable.
The hotel room is cold and sterile. Perfect.
I spread my laptop and documents across the bed, the glow of the screen lighting my face. Three years of records. Each expense another stab in the back.
My phone rings again.
Amy.
For a second, I almost ignore it. But some dark instinct whispers—Pick up.
“Lynn!” Her voice is bright and fake. “How are you, sis?”
“I’m fine,” I say flatly.
“You work too hard. Charles told me you’ve been stressed lately.”
I bet he did.
“I was actually calling to ask—do you think Charles would like platinum cufflinks for his birthday? They’re pricey, but so elegant…”
I freeze. She wants me to pay for gifts for my own fiancé.
The audacity is breathtaking.
“That’s… thoughtful,” I manage.
“I just want him to feel loved, you know? He’s going to be my brother-in-law soon!”
Brother-in-law.
The word tastes like poison.
In that video, she was moaning his name like he belonged to her.
“Amy,” I say quietly, “have you seen Charles lately?”
Pause. Too long.
“Oh, you know, just family dinners. Why?”
“Just curious. He’s been working a lot.”
“Yeah,” she laughs too brightly, “he’s just trying to provide for your future together.”
Our future? You mean the one where I die and you inherit my money?
“I should get back to work,” I say. “Big case tomorrow.”
“Of course! Love you, sis!”
The call ends.
I stare at the phone, then throw it against the wall. It cracks.
Love me?
She said she loved me while f*****g my fiancé and plotting to ruin me.
Fine.
I open my laptop again. Fingers flying.
Engagement termination draft. Financial fraud claim. Evidence folder labeled “War.”
By morning, Charles Patterson’s perfect little world will start to crumble.
And me? I’ll be right here, watching it burn.
Whatever this thing inside me is—rage, clarity, survival—it’s awake now.
And it’s hungry.
- Writer
