Game

Game

I’ve always believed destruction should be done beautifully.
Slowly.
Precisely.
Like painting a bruise on someone’s life until the color never fades.
Edward always thought I was the soft one.
The harmless one.
The woman who held his wife while she cried,
who held his son when he scraped his knee,
who held herself together when Anita died.
He never realized what kind of person you become
after losing the only woman you ever loved
to a man who didn’t deserve even her shadow.
Tonight, I make sure he understands.
My laptop glows in front of me, a half-finished spreadsheet open beside a folder labeled with his name.
Edward.
So arrogant he never imagined anyone would dig into his “private” networks.
So careless he thought his offshore accounts were invisible.
So stupid he believed his black-market contacts were loyal.
Idiots.
All of them.
Money laundering.
Bribed officials.
Stolen shipments.
A woman he paid off to disappear.
I have everything.
I sip my tea—not coffee; I need steady hands, not racing pulse—and drag another file into the folder. It feels like adding another stone to the grave I’m digging for him.
My phone vibrates once: confirmation.
The envelope has been delivered.
Perfect.
I imagine him opening it.
I imagine his face shifting from confusion… to disbelief… to fear.
Fear looks good on him.
Long overdue.
People think blackmail is a threat.
It isn’t.
It’s a promise.
The documents I sent aren’t even the worst ones, just the ones that whisper:
“I know.”
The others—the ones that scream—
those are for later.
I lean back in my chair, letting the room settle in its quiet glow. My apartment is spotless, controlled, everything arranged with intention. The opposite of his chaotic greed.
He ruined Anita.
He ruined me.
He ruined Cole’s life without even realizing he was carving scars into that boy’s back every time he lied.
Cole.
Soft-hearted.
Too forgiving.
Too much like Anita.
He deserves better than his father.
He deserves the truth.
One day, I’ll give it to him gently.
But not yet.
Right now, Edward is the only name on my list.
My phone buzzes again—another update.
He opened the envelope.
He’s been pacing for twenty minutes.
He locked himself in his study.
Good.
Let him sweat.
Let him remember every crime he tucked under his expensive suits and polished shoes.
Let him wonder how much I know, how far I’m willing to go, how long I’ve been watching him from just behind the curtain.
He thought my silence meant defeat.
He never understood silence can also mean sharpening.
I close my laptop, satisfied.
Phase one is done.
Phase two waits patiently.
Revenge isn’t fire.
It’s ice.
And tonight?
Edward finally felt the first chill.

Anger isn’t a fire; it’s a sharpened blade.
It’s quiet, coiled, waiting to strike at the exact moment that will hurt the most.
Edward has always tested my patience.
Made me believe that love and loyalty could coexist with deceit.
He underestimated me.
He underestimated my grief, my memory, my obsession with justice.
And now?
He’s about to realize how wrong he was.
I stand by the window, the city lights a blurred mosaic beneath me,
as if the world itself doesn’t matter while I focus on dismantling his carefully constructed life.
Every corrupt deal, every hidden account, every person he thought he could buy—
I have mapped them, traced them, held them in my mind like pieces on a chessboard.
And tonight, Edward is my pawn.
Cole deserves to see the man his father really is.
But he doesn’t get the whole truth—not yet.
He deserves to be shielded from the chaos until it’s perfectly timed, until every domino falls exactly how I want it.
No mistakes. No mercy. No leaks.
I open my folder again, checking the evidence, double-checking the timestamps, the wire transfers, the contracts.
Yes, everything is perfect.
He will panic. He will squirm.
And when he finally begs—oh, he will beg—I won’t even give him the satisfaction of my voice.
I’ll let his fear do the talking.
I feel the anger pulse in my veins again.
It’s not blind rage.
It’s calculated.
It’s memory sharpened into precision.
Anita deserved justice. Cole deserved the truth.
And Edward…
Edward will pay.
I sip my tea slowly.
I let the bitterness coat my tongue.
Let it remind me of all the years stolen from the woman I loved, from the son I promised to protect.
He thinks he controls the board.
But every move he’s ever made has been predictable.
And I am patient.
I am ruthless.
I am ready.
Tomorrow, the real game begins.
And he will finally understand what happens when you provoke someone who has nothing left to lose—but everything to settle.

People think revenge is chaos, but no—
it’s discipline.
Control.
A long game played by someone who refuses to blink.
I turn to my desk, where folders are stacked like the ribs of a long-dead animal:
his shell companies, his off-shore accounts, his fake suppliers,
and the list of people—so many people—he thought he could intimidate into silence.
They all talk to me.
Funny, isn’t it?
The way fear loosens tongues when it’s pointed in the right direction.
I take out the second envelope—
the one I’ll send tomorrow morning.
Not the first blackmail note, no.
That one was bait.
A warning shot to shake him.
A whisper of what I know.
This one?
This is a blade pressed against the throat of everything Edward values.
Proof of his illegal imports.
Records tying him to trafficking routes he pretended not to know existed.
Receipts of money he laundered through legitimate businesses—
including the one he stole from Anita.
He thinks I don’t know that part.
He thinks he hid it well.
He has always underestimated a woman’s ability to connect dots he didn’t even realize were on the page.
I place the envelope on top of the stack and breathe out slowly.
Calm.
Measured.
Cold.
Edward is predictable when cornered.
First denial.
Then rage.
Then bargaining.
He will try to strike back.
He will try to find who’s doing this to him.
Maybe he’ll guess it’s me.
Maybe he won’t.
But even if he does—
He cannot stop what’s already moving.
I glance at the picture frame beside my lamp:
Anita laughing, her arm around me, her chin resting on my shoulder.
God, she was beautiful.
And she deserved a world that didn’t crush her.
A familiar heaviness settles in my chest—
not the grief of losing her,
but the injustice of how she was taken.
Edward killed her as surely as if he pulled a trigger.
Not with a weapon—
with years of manipulation, cruelty, and betrayal.
And then he tried to do it to their son.
My jaw tightens.
Cole.
My boy in every way that matters.
He doesn’t know it yet,
but everything I’m doing now…
is to free him.
To make him see the truth.
To give him a life that isn’t chained to Edward’s sins.
I open my planner, flipping to the next week.
Red ink marks every step:
– Leak the documents to the attorney.
– Drop the package at Edward’s office.
– Tip off the auditor.
– Arrange a meeting with the board.
Not all in one day.
No, that would be sloppy.
This is a slow suffocation.
Let him struggle.
Let him panic.
Let him realize, little by little, that he has no escape.
Revenge is not an explosion.
It’s erosion.
A steady, unstoppable collapse.
And when everything comes crashing down,
I will be standing right in front of him—
not to watch him suffer,
but to let him see whose hands pulled the strings.
I close the planner.
Tomorrow, the first domino falls.
And Edward?
He won’t even hear it until the entire foundation under him gives way.

—-

I’ve always believed the easiest people to recruit
are the ones who think they aren’t recruitable.
Sue Cruz is exactly that kind of girl.
Pretty.
Girly.
Soft on the outside—
but envy clings to her like perfume she pretends not to wear.
She doesn’t even realize she’s carrying it.
That makes her perfect.
I watch her from across the café where I asked her to meet me—
legs crossed, glossy hair bouncing when she laughs into her phone,
rings stacked on every finger like miniature weapons.
She looks harmless.
Dainty.
But I see through people.
It’s my one natural gift.
And Sue?
She’s overflowing with something useful:
Bitterness.
Not loud, not obvious—
just simmering, quiet,
the kind that grows in girls who smile too much.
When she finally hangs up, she spots me and waves,
a bright, excited little gesture that almost makes me laugh.
She has no idea what she’s walking into.
“Hi, Tita Avida!” she chirps as she sits.
I smile warmly.
Warm is easy to fake—
it’s cold that takes discipline.
“How are you, sweetheart?” I ask.
She talks.
Oh, she talks.
About school, boys, clothes—
until I steer her gently, almost lazily, toward the direction I want.
“And Laura? How’s she doing? You two are close, hm?”
There it is.
The change.
A small flicker behind her eyes.
Barely a shadow.
But I catch it.
“We’re fine,” she says with a too-fast smile. “We’re good.”
“Mm.”
I stir my tea, slow and purposeful.
“You know… sometimes people act fine even when they’re not.”
She stiffens.
Perfect.
“You’re such a sweet girl, Sue,” I continue, letting affection drip into my voice.
“So thoughtful. So loyal. I’d hate for someone to take advantage of that.”
Her eyes widen—
not offended, just curious.
Hungry for validation.
“Laura’s been through a lot,” she says defensively. “I’m just trying to help her.”
I tilt my head, giving her that sad, knowing look adults use to break a younger girl’s armor.
“I know, sweetheart. But you deserve someone who cares the same way you do.
Someone who sees you.
Laura… she has a way of making everything about her without realizing it, doesn’t she?”
She doesn’t answer.
She doesn’t have to.
Silence is permission.
I lean in a little.
Lower my voice, like I’m confiding something sacred:
“You’re always in her shadow, aren’t you?”
Sue’s breath hitches—
just enough to tell me I hit the exact bruise I was aiming for.
“That’s not… I mean, I don’t…”
She swallows.
“I just… sometimes I feel like people only notice her.”
There it is.
The truth she’s never allowed herself to say.
I reach out and touch her hand gently—
a motherly, reassuring gesture.
“Oh, Sue.
You’re special.
You’re brilliant.
You have a light that Laura can never take away.”
Her shoulders relax, a shy smile softening her lips.
I smile back.
Hook, line, sinker.
And then, softly, like an afterthought:
“If someone hurt you… even unintentionally…
you can tell me.
I’ll always take your side.”
Her eyes glimmer.
Gratitude.
Dependence.
Trust.
She has no idea she just stepped into my circle.
No idea that I’m slowly, subtly bending her loyalties—
twisting her bitterness into something sharp,
something I can use,
something that will eventually aim itself at Laura.
Sue isn’t my weapon yet.
But she will be.
Girls like her always are.