The first thing I noticed that morning was the note pinned to my locker.
It wasn't written on anything fancy—just a small piece of lined paper with Liam's shaky handwriting:
"I followed you last night. I just wanted to make sure you were safe. Always. —Liam"
I smiled, carefully, keeping my expression neutral in front of the passing students. My heart didn't race. My pulse didn't quicken. But inside, the gears were turning.
He already obeyed without question. He already followed. And he had no idea that following meant more than protection… that following would soon become service, devotion, and obedience.
During first period, I made subtle suggestions—small, innocent-seeming requests.
"Liam," I said softly in the library, leaning slightly closer than necessary, "if you see anyone giving me trouble… can you just… deal with it quietly?"
He nodded immediately. "Of course. Anything you need."
The words sounded simple. Innocent. But I knew their weight. He would do it. Every. Single. Thing.
Later, I watched him from across the cafeteria. His eyes kept darting to me, scanning, calculating, protective. Every glance was a thread, weaving him tighter into my control.
And I liked it.
I loved it.
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I sat at my desk and opened my old notebook—the one filled with plans, names, timelines, and details of revenge.
It had been years since I first scribbled down my strategy against my father, Vivian, my aunt, and her husband.
But now… it was time to add a new layer: Liam.
I traced his name lightly with my fingers, imagining his loyalty, his blind devotion, the way he would follow my orders without hesitation.
And then I wrote theirs:
Aunt Helen – my mother's younger sister, greedy, cruel, complicit in every wrong.
Uncle Tony – supportive of her schemes, weak, easily manipulated.
Property – what was stolen, what was owed, what I would reclaim.
Every detail was already planned in my mind. Every interaction, every emotional trigger, every trap I would set. And Liam… he would be my instrument.
The next day, I tested him further.
"Liam," I whispered after school as we walked home, "if someone threatened me… hurt me… would you protect me?"
"Anything," he said without hesitation, eyes bright, unwavering.
"That means…" I murmured, brushing my fingers lightly against his hand, "you would do whatever I asked?"
"Yes," he breathed. "I would. Always."
A shiver ran down my spine—not from fear, but from the intoxicating knowledge of control.
I imagined him delivering messages, intercepting threats, even confronting people… all for me. All for my plan.
And one day soon, he wouldn't even know the full extent of his role.
That night, I lay in bed and visualized the execution.
Aunt Helen would think she was untouchable, basking in the satisfaction of her mother's stolen property.
Uncle Tony would never suspect the careful orchestration happening under their noses.
Liam, obedient and loyal, would manipulate situations for me, create distractions, intercept communications, and ensure nothing went wrong.
I let my lips curl into a faint smile.
They thought I was still a scared, quiet girl, new to the city, harmless.
But they were wrong.
I was patient. I was precise. I was lethal in my planning.
And now, with Liam fully entwined in my control, I was unstoppable.
The following week, I started dropping small hints to Liam.
Messages about who to watch.
Suggestions about conversations to steer.
Simple tasks that seemed innocent, but were part of larger manipulations.
He followed without question, his obsession blinding him to the manipulation.
Every obedient action strengthened my trust in him—and my power.
I even let Isabella notice our closeness, carefully watching her reaction.
Jealousy, frustration, fear. Perfect. Every emotion she felt became fuel for my game.
I lay in bed that night, listening to the quiet hum of the city outside.
Liam's devotion had reached the point where I didn't need to act constantly—he was already anticipating my desires. Already predicting my moves. Already serving me without realizing how fully I controlled him.
And the plan… my ultimate plan… was beginning to take shape.
One by one, the people who had wronged me would fall into place.
Aunt Helen, Uncle Robert… they would regret underestimating the quiet, calculating girl who had survived the river, who had mastered manipulation, and who now had an instrument at her fingertips: Liam.
I closed my eyes. A whisper escaped my lips:
"Wait. Just wait. Everything will be mine… and they'll never see it coming."
Crystal Whitman wasn't just surviving anymore.
Crystal Whitman was building.
Crystal Whitman was conquering.
And Liam… oh, my sweet, devoted Liam… was the key.
The pieces were moving. The strings were tightening.
And the final performance—the perfect revenge—was only just beginning.