Chapter 3

I didn't need these anymore because every plan was already etched into my bones, running through my veins.

Early the next morning, the guard handed me a thin slip of paper.

"Olivia, your sentence is up. You're free to go," he said.

I took the release slip, the way it felt in my hands was almost surreal, like I couldn't believe this was really happening.

For the first time in two years, my heart thudded hard in my chest, not because I was free but because the curtain was finally rising on my revenge.

I stepped out through the prison gates, and the blinding sunlight made me squint.

Everything out here felt weird, but somehow familiar too.

Skyscrapers, cars, crowds All that noise hit me at once, making my ears ring.

So this was what freedom felt like, heavier than I ever imagined.

*****

The prison gates were deserted.

I always knew that no one would be waiting for me on the outside.

Just as well. I never needed anyone to greet me anyway.

I tugged at my cheap, ill-fitting jacket, headed to the curb, and hailed a cab.

"Driver, take me to Sycamore Lane in the South District," I said.

That was the spot Mia had rented for me ahead of time, a top-floor apartment in an old, run-down building.

The rent was dirt cheap, the building was packed with all sorts of people, and it was the perfect place to hide out.

The place was bare-bones, just a bed, a table, and a chair. That was all the furniture there was.

But it was safe.

This was my new beginning, my war room.

I popped in a new SIM card and powered up my phone.

The screen lit up, and an encrypted message popped up right away.

"Olivia, I'm in position. I've already reached out to David; he's fired up, says he's been waiting for this day forever."

It was Mia.

A cold, calculating smile crept across my lips.

The first chess piece was set, exactly where I wanted it.

David used to be the star project manager at Richard's rival company, but Richard crushed him with dirty tricks during a bidding war, leaving him ruined and disgraced.

For years, he had been barely surviving in the gutter, and his hatred for Richard was even more venomous than mine.

A guy with skills, a grudge, and nothing left to lose; he was the perfect blade in my arsenal.

For the next few days, I holed up in my room, glued to my secondhand laptop, obsessively digging up everything I could on the Quinn Group.

Stock prices, financial reports, internal shake-ups, even the juiciest gossip about Richard and Victoria.

In two years, the Quinn Group looked bigger than ever, but the cracks beneath the surface were only getting worse.

The VPs were all just pretending to get along, and several major investment projects were seriously underperforming, only Richard's iron grip kept the whole ship from sinking.

And Victoria, the woman who stepped on me to get ahead, had already become the queen of the Quinn Group.

Her "Shine Charity Fund" was all over the media, turning her into the most dazzling socialite in high society.

I stared at the news, watching her hanging onto Richard's arm, flashing that gentle, picture-perfect smile; it made my stomach twist.

She paved her golden path with my blood and pain.

Victoria, that fancy robe she was wearing was about time someone tore it off.

I connected with Mia through a secure messaging app and gave her the first order. [Tell David to get ready.

[I need all the sales data for FreshTrend this quarter, make it as detailed as possible. Also, find a few beauty influencers with a decent following online. I'll need them.]

FreshTrend was a fast-moving consumer goods brand under the Quinn Group, aimed squarely at the younger crowd. Victoria had championed this project; it was her claim to fame.

But the brand was all style, no substance. All hype, no real value. It was built on shaky ground.

And what I was about to target was exactly what Victoria was most proud of.

A few days later, David sent over the internal sales data for FreshTrend through Mia. Along with the numbers, he also included a detailed analysis report.

David really knew how to get things done, fast and clean.

The numbers were way worse than what the company had put out in their financial reports. The return rate was sky-high, and complaints were pouring in about product quality.

I compiled all the data into a shocking report and sent it anonymously to a few beauty influencers known for exposing scams and being brutally honest.

I didn't say anything else, just added a single line. [Want to break a big story?]

Once that was done, I started my second test.

Using an anonymous, heavily disguised overseas account, I put down a modest sum to make a quick, targeted strike on the Quinn Group's stock.

It wasn't enough to make waves, but it was just enough for Richard, that sensitive hound, to sense something off.

I wanted him to know that someone in the shadows had their eyes on him.

I wanted to make him nervous, make him paranoid, and get his attention off me, the nobody he thought was long gone.

Sure enough, the very next day, the financial news was all over it.

[Quinn Group's stock experienced unusual swings yesterday, suspected to be hit by shadowy investors with a targeted short attack. The Quinn Group has already set up an investigative team to look into the matter.]

I sat in my shabby little apartment, staring at the laptop screen as Richard's calm, unflappable face filled the news conference. A cold, mocking laugh escaped me.

Richard was really something.

But he had no idea how determined a woman who clawed her way out of hell can be.

He thought his enemies were just those corporate predators out there.

But his real enemy was me, the demon he forged, driven by nothing but revenge.

*****

That evening, I slipped into the plainest clothes I could find, pulled on a hat and mask, and made my way to an outdoor café right across from the Quinn Group building.

I needed to get up close, to really sense the presence of my enemy.

On the massive LED screen, the Quinn Group's promotional video played on a loop, Richard's confident, triumphant face filling the entire display.

He was proclaiming to the world the grandeur of his business empire.

What he didn't realize was that his nightmare had already begun.

Just as I was about to leave, a flashy red Porsche pulled up to the curb.

The door swung open, and out stepped a woman in a Chanel suit.

It was Victoria.

She was dressed to perfection, her smile flawless. But as soon as she got out, she checked her surroundings, eyes alert and cautious.

Then, the man in the driver's seat leaned out and planted a quick kiss on her lips.

That wasn't Richard.

Almost instinctively, I raised my phone, zoomed in, and captured the moment in perfect detail.

'Victoria, you just handed me a gift. I'll gladly accept,' I thought.

'My revenge plan just gained another weapon in my arsenal,' I mused.