Maxwell's POV
I lay in bed, eyes closed, listening to the continuous beeping of my alarm without making any move to shut it off.
My body felt... better. So much better. The medication, plus a good dinner had actually worked, and my intestines had finally declared a ceasefire. I'd slept well - no midnight emergencies, no cold sweats, no traumatic bathroom visits.
But I wasn't thinking about my recovered health.
I was thinking about revenge.
About Olivia.
She'd given me fake medication. Had watched me suffer, had enjoyed every second of my humiliation, and hadn't said a single word to stop it.
The little minx.
I needed to respond in kind. Something that would make her uncomfortable, throw her off balance, remind her that two could play this game.
But it couldn't be cruel. Couldn't actually hurt her. Just... discomfort her. Rattle her cage a little. Make her wonder what I was planning next.
The problem was, every idea that came to mind was terrible.
Absolutely terrible.
