First-Person POV (Crystal)
People assume revenge is loud — screaming, breaking, burning.
They're wrong.
Real revenge is quiet.
Cold.
A scalpel, not a hammer.
And today, I carved the final cut.
---
My uncle was arrested before noon.
The sirens arrived at their gated house in Crestwood Heights so loudly the neighbors peeked through their blinds like anxious pigeons. Officers marched into the home with documents I'd prepared, guided, and orchestrated with surgical precision — every false lead, every planted signature, every redirected transaction.
A fraud case so clean even the lawyers he trusted wouldn't touch it.
He shouted, fought, cursed, tried to drag my aunt into it, but the handcuffs snapped around his wrists anyway.
My burner phone buzzed.
A photo came through — courtesy of Liam.
My uncle being shoved into a police car.
Face red. Eyes wild. Reputation ruined.
A masterpiece.
I saved the picture. Not because I needed it…
…but because revenge tastes sweeter when you can replay it.
---
My aunt broke next.
She didn't go to jail — not yet — but she lost something worse than freedom.
Security.
When I arrived at the property later that afternoon, she was pacing on the porch like a frantic bird, mascara smeared, hair uncombed, completely unaware that the next blow was coming from me.
"Crystal?" she gasped, shocked. "What are—what are you doing here?"
Her voice used to send a chill down my spine when I was a child.
Not anymore.
I walked past her without answering, stepped into the living room, inhaled the smell of expensive candles and entitlement. Then I turned to her, hands folded calmly.
"This house isn't yours," I said.
She blinked. "What?"
"It was my mother's."
I let that sink in.
"And now it's mine."
She staggered forward. "Crystal, listen—"
"No."
I pointed to the door. "You listen. Get out."
Her jaw dropped. "You can't do this! You—"
"I already did."
She backed up as if I'd struck her, shaking her head in denial. "I took care of this house! I—"
"You stole it," I corrected.
"And now you're done."
The security officers Liam arranged stepped forward.
Her face crumpled in humiliation, disbelief, rage.
"Crystal," she whispered bitterly, "you're just like your mother."
I smiled faintly.
"I know."
And then she was escorted off the property she'd ruined.
It wasn't enough.
But it was a start.
Liam delivered the final gift.
After the chaos, I waited outside by the garden fountain. Liam approached quietly, the evening sun casting gold across his hair.
He held a brown folder — thick, stamped, sealed.
"It's done," he said breathlessly. "Your mother's deed. Her shop papers. The land certificate. All of it. Legally transferred back."
My chest tightened.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
I reached for the folder with steady hands, but inside, something shook loose — not weakness, but something dangerously close to relief.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He smiled like he'd been waiting his whole life to hear those words.
I don't hug people.
I don't like being touched.
But for the first time in eight years, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around someone voluntarily.
Liam froze.
Then he hugged me back — tightly, warmly, desperately — like he'd finally been given proof that all the things he'd done for me meant something.
Just a few seconds.
Then I stepped back.
His eyes were shining like I'd given him the world.
"Crystal," he breathed, "I'd do anything for you."
I knew that.
And it's why I couldn't let him get too close.
Not yet.
---
Reality hit quickly.
My mother's business — once thriving — was now nothing but hollow office space, rusted equipment, and debts my aunt had created and ignored.
I walked through the building with Olivia one hour later.
Dust on the counters.
Broken shelves.
Empty accounts.
It didn't hurt.
It only fueled me.
"I can't run this," I admitted, voice flat. "Not while I'm still in high school."
Olivia touched my shoulder gently. "Crystal… I can rebuild it. For her. For you."
I nodded.
"Then it's yours," I said.
"Run it. Grow it. Bring it back."
She covered her mouth, eyes misting.
"Oh, sweetheart. I won't fail you. I won't fail her."
For the first time all day, I felt a warmth that wasn't connected to victory or vengeance.
It felt… safe.
Foreign.
But safe.
And just like that, my mother's legacy was set to rise again.
My aunt was out.
My uncle was in jail.
The property was mine.
The first phase of revenge — completed.
I should've felt satisfied.
But the universe doesn't let me breathe for long.
Because that night…
As Olivia and I walked back toward the car, a shadow leaned against the far streetlamp. Tall. Relaxed. Watching.
The same shadow I met days ago.
Adrian.
His eyes met mine from across the street — slow, piercing, uninvited.
A corner of his mouth lifted, like he knew something I didn't.
Liam stood beside me, but Adrian didn't spare him a glance.
His attention was fixed solely on me.
Electric.
Dark.
Unsettling.
And when a passing car blocked my view for half a second…
…he was gone again.
Like a ghost who only appeared when he wanted to be seen.
My pulse ticked faster, annoyance curling under my skin.
But deep, deep down…
Something else stirred.
Something I didn't have a name for yet.
And wouldn't understand until it was too late.