Chapter 119 Take The Relief Muster another Plan
Chapter 119 Take The Relief Muster another Plan
Sandra’s POV
Seeing the news spread like wildfire across the city, state, and country makes me realize just how popular Tyler was. I wasn’t expecting such loud, relentless coverage about his murder, and it makes me scared, thinking I might be exposed so soon.
But then I hear what the prison officer says in the interview, and a wave of relief washes over me. My muscles, tense and coiled like a spring, finally start to unwind. I know my secret is safe with him. The thought brings a twisted sense of satisfaction—a dark comfort in knowing that the jailer, even while being asked questions, will keep my secret sealed away.
What did I whisper to the jailer that made him so corporate, so eager, that he handed me the gun to take down Tyler? It’s all so clear, he was desperate, and I knew exactly which strings to pull to get what I wanted.
People will do unbelievable things for money, and those things often involve compromising everything they once stood for. I’ve seen it time and time again—the way greed eats away at a person’s integrity until there’s nothing left but a hollow shell.
How much more could a jailer, whose salary barely hits $5,000 a month, resist the sound of $50,000? It was almost too easy. The way his resolve crumbled when I made the offer, the way his fingers twitched as he handed me the gun—I could see the exact moment he gave up fighting against his own desperation.
I must confess, though, that the instant I pulled the trigger, I wasn’t prepared for what followed. I didn’t expect to see Tyler become lifeless in just the blink of an eye. The sound of the shot still echoes in my mind, a deafening reminder of what I’ve done.
My heart pounds against my ribcage, wild and frantic, as I replay the moment over and over. I’d seen it in movies—people shot and dead in the blink of an eye—but I never knew it was like that in reality. I always thought it was film tricks, exaggerated for effect. But as Tyler collapsed, his body crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut, I realized how real it all was. The sight of his blood pooling on the floor—dark, thick, and sticky—turned my stomach. Yet, something cold and detached in me refused to let the horror take hold.
Seeing Tyler on the floor, in a pool of his own blood, made me realize one thing: You never truly know what you are capable of until you do it. I wasn’t afraid to stare at his lifeless face on the floor. I even spat on his face, feeling a twisted sense of triumph as I did. “This is what you deserve for messing with Brandon,” I whispered, the words dripping with venom.
You don’t get it? See, Brandon is someone I love to the brim, someone I would do anything for. The very thought of him makes my chest ache, my heart swelling with an emotion so intense it borders on pain.
Didn’t Tyler hear when I said I endured being friends with Brandon for so many years, hoping that someday he’d look at me and see me as the woman I am? Each memory of Brandon flashes before my eyes—the way his smile lights up a room, the warmth of his laughter, the way he leans on me when he’s hurting. I’ve stood by him through everything, every heartbreak, every disappointment. I’ve been the one to pick up the pieces every time his heart was shattered, the one to comfort him when Lucy broke him beyond repair. And what do I get in return? Just the role of the best friend, nothing more.
And yet, after all was said and done, Brandon called me to dinner just to ask for advice on how to propose to Alessandra? The words he spoke that night still echo in my mind, each one like a dagger to my heart. “I need your help, Sandra. I think Alessandra’s the one.” How could he not see that I’ve always been the one? What happened to asking me out, to seeing me as more than just a friend? And then Tyler, that idiot, used my emotions for his own plot and played me like a pawn in a chess game, pushing me to the brink, until all I could see was red.
"How dare him make me think I was going to hurt Alessandra but end up hurting Brandon."
"How dare him!"
I feel no remorse for what I’ve done, even at this moment. The emptiness inside me is a cold void, swallowing any trace of guilt or regret. As I sit in my home, on the couch, the leather cool against my skin, I watch the TV and drink yogurt to refresh myself in this little victory.
I smirk, the expression feeling foreign on my lips, but I can’t help it. We all know that a domesticated dog that tastes blood will crave it again. And with this, since I’ve pulled the trigger on Tyler and seen how the jailer covered for me, I know I can do more. The thought sends a thrill through me, a surge of adrenaline that makes my hands tremble slightly.
“Why can’t I take care of Alessandra myself?” The thought comes to me over and over again, growing louder with each repetition until it’s all I can think about. The news ends, but the thought lingers, gnawing at the edges of my mind.
And to be candid, this seems like a plausible idea. If I can put a bullet in Tyler’s head and get away with it, why can’t I do the same to Alessandra and achieve my goal?
Judging by what Brandon told me at the hospital, even after everything, he still considers me his best friend and cherishes me. The way his eyes softened when he looked at me, it gave me hope. If Alessandra dies today, it’s clear that he’d come to me for comfort. And by then, he’ll see that after everything, I’m still the one for him.
I can almost picture it—the way he’d turn to me in his grief, the way he’d finally see what’s been right in front of him all along. From there, he’d ask me out, we’d have a sweet and jubilant wedding, and we’d journey to the sea to scatter Alessandra’s ashes, living happily ever after.
Scoff.
Professor Latin’s words were never wrong after all. At this moment, I see why he always emphasized those words back in college: “The strong person who is determined to seize his opportunity by himself will not miss the opportunity because the moment he nurtures this thought, his fate has already changed to that of an ‘opportunist.’” Those words have stayed with me, buried deep in my mind, and now they resurface, more relevant than ever.
Quickly, I double-tap my phone screen, my fingers moving with a newfound determination. I scroll through it, my heart pounding in my chest as the plan begins to take shape.
I launch my Chrome app and search, “locations to illegally purchase weapons in the country,” then tap on search.
As I expected, there are several locations, and I count five that are near me. Each one is a potential path to achieving my goal, each one a step closer to getting what I’ve wanted for so long.
Scoff.
Doesn’t this mean Alessandra is now in trouble? The thought brings a dark sense of satisfaction, a thrill that courses through my veins like electricity. This moment is the beginning of the end for her, and there’s no turning back now.
If she knows what’s good for her, she’d better start running now because when I come, I won’t back down easily. The chase is on, and I’m ready for whatever comes next.