Chapter 21 – Chains of Vengeance

Clarissa’s POV

I could still hear the sound of the wine glass breaking. The way it shattered on the marble floor of the dining room echoed in my mind like a cruel reminder of what had just happened.

Brian walked out on me.

Me.

Clarissa stone.

No one walks out on me.

I stood in front of the mirror in my room now, my evening dress still clinging to me, a perfect sapphire silk that shimmered under the lights, but all I could see was how pathetic it looked. I had chosen this dress with him in mind. I had styled my hair into loose waves because I knew he liked it that way. I smiled, laughed, touched his hand at the table, God, I had done everything right.

And yet, when the time came, he looked at me with those cold, unyielding eyes and ended it. Just like that.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. The mirror reflected not the flawless woman I had been trained to be, but someone undone, someone vulnerable. And I hated it.

With a furious cry, I snatched the vase from my nightstand and hurled it across the room. The porcelain shattered against the wall, shards scattering across the floor. My chest rose and fell, my breath ragged, but the rage inside me didn’t ease. I wanted to scream until the walls themselves cracked.

How dare he.

How dare he throw me aside for… for what?

Her.

Alice.

The name slithered into my mind like poison, bitter and burning.

I remembered the way she looked at him, those quiet stares she thought no one noticed. I noticed. I noticed everything. She had always been there, lurking in the shadows, the poor little scholarship girl who thought she could breathe the same air as us. I should have crushed her the moment I saw the way Brian’s gaze lingered. I should have ended her chances before they even began.

Now it was too late for prevention. Now it was about war.

I paced across my room, heels clicking sharply against the polished wood. My hands shook, not from weakness but from the fury clawing at me. Alice thought she was clever. Sweet. Untouchable because she had Sophie by her side, with that sharp tongue and influential family. But Sophie’s jokes wouldn’t save Alice from me.

Not anymore.

Brian’s voice echoed again in my head, calm but firm as he pushed his chair back and rose from the dinner table. I can’t do this anymore, Clarissa. This arrangement, this facade, it’s over.

Over.

The word cut deeper than a blade.

I had given him everything. My loyalty, my time, my love. Love that had stretched since we were teenagers, since the first time I realized he wasn’t just another boy but someone worth chasing. I had fought for his attention, molded myself into the perfect daughter, the perfect fiancée, the perfect woman.

And he threw me away for her.

I stopped pacing and gripped the edge of my vanity until my knuckles whitened. The face in the mirror was streaked now, makeup smudged from angry tears I hadn’t realized had fallen. I swore under my breath and reached for a tissue, scrubbing at my cheeks. I would not let him reduce me to this.

He could choose her. He could humiliate me. But he would regret it.

I moved to my wardrobe, flinging the doors open, the soft scent of expensive perfumes and fabrics wafting out. My fingers trailed over dresses, silk, satin, lace—all weapons in their own way. My mother always told me appearance was half the battle. “Power,” she said, “is as much about perception as it is about reality.”

And I knew exactly what reality I wanted Alice to face.

She thought she could walk around school with that innocence, pretending she wasn’t involved, pretending she wasn’t seducing him with her doe-eyed stares. Well, innocence only works if no one is looking for the dirt beneath it. And I would make sure the entire campus saw her for what she was.

A homewrecker.

A nobody who thought she could play in our world.

I reached for a fresh dress, slipping into something more comfortable, something that let me move freely. Then I tore the sapphire silk from my body and threw it to the floor, grinding the heel of my shoe against the fabric. “You were supposed to be my victory,” I hissed at it, like the dress could answer for my pain.

For a moment I just stood there, staring at the mess I had made. Shards of porcelain on the floor, the ruined gown, my reflection still trembling with fury. And yet beneath it all, there was something else. Something sharper than rage.

Resolve.

Brian could think he was done with me. He could tell himself he didn’t care about the partnership between our families, about the decades of power and influence that bound us. But he was lying to himself. He would care when everything he worked for crumbled. He would care when Alice was dragged through the mud so deep she’d choke on it.

He’d come back.

They always came back.

And if he didn’t… then at least I would destroy the little distraction that had stolen him away from me.

I sank onto the edge of my bed, pulling my knees up for a moment. The tears came again, unwanted and hot, but I didn’t fight them this time. They weren’t weakness. They were fuel. Every tear was another promise, another vow carved into my bones.

Alice was going to regret the day she crossed me.

And Brian… 

he was going to regret underestimating me.

The knock at the door barely registered at first. My hands were still shaking from the fury that had consumed me, and the room was littered with the evidence of my chaos, the shards of the vase, the torn sapphire silk dress, the overturned chair. I didn’t want company. I wanted solitude. I wanted to scream until the walls themselves shivered in fear.

But the knock came again, firm and deliberate. A presence I could not ignore.

“Clarissa, are you in there?” My mother’s voice, calm but authoritative, filtered through the door. Vivienne. Always poised, always in control. The kind of woman who could enter a room and silence it with nothing more than a glance.

I wiped my face roughly, trying to erase the evidence of tears and rage, and called back, my voice tight. “Yes, come in.”

She opened the door gracefully, her silk scarf trailing behind her. Even in her casual evening attire, she radiated authority, an aura I had inherited but never perfected. Vivienne’s eyes swept the room, taking in the destruction with a sharp, assessing glance.

“Hmm,” she said softly, tilting her head. “Looks like someone has had a rough evening.”

“Rough?” I scoffed. “Rough doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Her lips curved slightly, not in amusement but in understanding. She had a way of listening without judgment, yet reading every line of a person’s pain as if it were a book she had memorized. “Tell me,” she prompted, her tone gentle but commanding.

I fell onto the armchair, exhausted from my outburst, and finally let the words tumble out. I told her everything, Brian walking out, the dinner, the humiliation, Alice’s interference, the way my control over the situation had collapsed. And through it all, mom’s eyes never wavered. No gasp. No flinch. Just that calm, penetrating gaze that made me feel seen in a way no one else ever could.

When I finished, she didn’t speak immediately. She paced slowly, a hand resting lightly on her chin. “I see,” she said at last, her voice even but edged with steel. “It seems you’ve underestimated the stakes.”

I looked up at her, defiance still raw in my chest. “Underestimated? I’ve handled everything before. I’ve always won. And now he throws it all away for that little nobody, Alice. He doesn’t even realize what he’s losing.”

Mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Sometimes, my dear, men are blind to the obvious. But a blind man can be made to see, and a fool can be taught his place. That is where strategy comes in.”

“Strategy?” I repeated, the word dripping with venom. “I’m beyond strategy. I want her gone. I want Brian back. I want everyone to understand that he is mine and mine alone.”

Her gaze softened slightly, but the edge remained. “Vengeance without plan is folly. Emotions are powerful, yes, but they are also dangerous if left unchecked. You have the fire; you need the direction. That is why I am here.”

I frowned, sensing the weight of her words. “You mean… you’ll help me?”

Mom smiled faintly, a slow, deliberate curve of lips that promised both comfort and calculated power. “Of course, my child. You have always had the skill, the intelligence, and the resolve. Now you need guidance. Let us turn your fury into precision. Alice may have interfered today, but she has no idea what is coming.”

I felt a surge of hope and excitement mingled with the lingering anger. “What do we do first?”

She walked closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, though the authority in it made my pulse quicken. “First, we observe. Learn her habits, her routines, her weaknesses. Then we manipulate perception. Make her feel exposed without her knowing why. Social ruin can be more devastating than confrontation. People like Alice rely on appearances. We will dismantle them piece by piece.”

Her eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a shiver of admiration and fear. Vivienne’s calm control was intoxicating. “And Brian?” I asked cautiously, aware that even discussing him with my mother carried risks.

“He will come to understand where his loyalties lie,” mom said with certainty. “He may resist, he may be tempted, but a man who has been shown consequences and clarity rarely strays long. Our goal is twofold: remove Alice and reclaim Brian. The latter will be simple once the former is set in motion.”

I nodded, feeling the fire rekindled within me. I could see it now, my plan, guided by mom’s wisdom, sharper than any I had ever conceived on my own. Every slight from Alice, every stolen glance, every step she took in our territory would be cataloged and used against her.

“And Sophie?” I asked, almost reluctantly. “She’s… influential too. Could complicate things.”

Mom’s eyes glimmered. “Complications are opportunities in disguise. She is clever, yes, but she lacks your ruthlessness. Remember, the stronger the opponent believes themselves, the more spectacular their fall will be.”

I smiled, the kind of smile that was dangerous, predatory even. The rage and pain from earlier had transformed into focus, into a plan. Alice would regret ever thinking she could interfere. Brian would be mine. And together with mom, I was unstoppable.

We spent hours plotting, outlining every detail, every potential encounter. Mom guided me through subtle manipulations, teaching me how to bend perception, how to strike without leaving evidence, how to ensure that when the time came, Alice would be isolated and vulnerable.

By the time the night deepened, I felt almost… calm. Not weak, not defeated, but potent, armed with purpose. The storm of my anger had been channeled, refined into a weapon more dangerous than any raw fury could ever be.

Mom rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Tomorrow, the plan begins. Patience is crucial. You will watch, learn, and strike only when the timing is flawless. This is not just about Brian. It is about establishing dominance. Do not let your emotions dictate your moves.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle over me like armor. Finally, I felt in control again. For the first time since that dinner, I felt capable of breathing without the suffocating fear of loss.

“Thank you,” I whispered, though my voice held steel as well as gratitude.

“You are welcome,” Vivienne replied softly. “And remember, Clarissa, power is not taken, it is claimed. And tomorrow, we claim everything.”

The night stretched long, and I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, visualizing Alice’s every move, predicting reactions, and imagining my victory. My mind raced with possibilities, every scenario ending with me victorious, with Brian back where he belonged, and Alice reduced to a cautionary tale of overreaching ambition.

Tomorrow, I thought, t

he game begins. And I will win.

Chapter 22 – Tangled Hearts

Alice's POV

The words wouldn't leave me.

They clung to me like a shadow as I walked through the halls the next morning, heavy and suffocating.

"Brian invited me to dinner. My fiancé."

Clarissa's smirk replayed in my mind over and over again, like a taunt carved into my chest. I'd told myself not to take her seriously, not to let her venom seep into me. But no matter how much I tried, doubt crept in, threading itself around my thoughts until every memory of Brian twisted into something uncertain.

The kiss.

It should have been enough. The warmth of his lips, the steadiness of his hands, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world. That moment should have been all the proof I needed. But Clarissa's voice was louder now, drowning it out.

It was just infatuation. He's back to his senses.

I pressed my books tighter against my chest, trying to breathe as students rushed past me. The school buzzed with noise, but all I felt was the hollow ache of confusion.

Sophie's arm looped around mine suddenly, jolting me from my thoughts. "Okay, you've been walking like a zombie since first period. Spill it."

"I'm fine," I muttered, forcing a small smile that even I didn't believe.

Sophie gave me a look that said she wasn't buying it for a second. "You're not fine. You've got that 'I'm carrying the world's drama on my back but I'll pretend I'm okay' face. Which, by the way, is not cute."

I laughed weakly, the sound brittle. "You're ridiculous."

"True," she admitted. "But I'm also right. Come on, talk to me. Is it about him?"

The way she said him made my chest tighten. I didn't answer. I couldn't.

Sophie sighed, tugging me toward an empty corner near the vending machines. "Alice, if you don't start talking, I'll assume you're secretly planning to drop out and join a circus. Just tell me what's going on."

Her attempt at humor cracked something in me. I sank onto the bench, lowering my gaze to the floor. My fingers twisted at the hem of my sleeve.

"Clarissa," I whispered finally.

Sophie groaned. "Of course it's Clarissa. What did she do this time? Swear she invented oxygen?"

Despite myself, a small laugh slipped out, but it faded quickly. "She... she told me that Brian invited her to dinner. That he's her fiancé. That... whatever I thought was happening between us was just..." My voice broke, and I swallowed hard. "Just infatuation."

Sophie's eyes widened, her jaw tightening. "That snake."

I bit my lip, shame burning through me. "What if she's right, Sophie? What if I was just... temporary?"

She knelt in front of me, grabbing my hands. "Listen to me. Clarissa lies. It's what she does. She feeds on making people miserable. And Brian? He doesn't look at you like you're temporary. He looks at you like you're," She stopped, her eyes softening. "Like you're everything."

Her words should have comforted me, but the knot in my chest only grew tighter. "Then why would he invite her to dinner?"

Sophie hesitated, her brows furrowing. "Maybe there's another reason. Maybe he wants to end it. Did you think of that?"

My heart stuttered at the thought, hope flickering for a split second, before Clarissa's smug smile returned in my mind. "But she sounded so sure, Sophie. Like... like she'd already won."

"Clarissa always sounds sure. That doesn't make it true."

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to grab onto Sophie's certainty and let it drown out the doubt clawing at me. But fear had its claws in deep.

The rest of the day dragged on, every class blurring together. Whenever I caught a glimpse of Brian across campus, my body froze. Once, he even looked like he was heading toward me, his gaze locked on mine.

My pulse skyrocketed, and before I could stop myself, I ducked into the nearest hallway, pressing my back against the cold lockers. My chest heaved as I listened to his footsteps fade away.

Coward.

But I couldn't face him. Not when Clarissa's words still echoed in my head. Not when I was terrified of finding out she might be right.

By the time Sophie dropped me home that evening, my heart felt heavier than it had in days. She kept the radio on, singing obnoxiously loud to make me laugh, and I tried, God, I tried but the ache wouldn't leave.

When she parked in front of my house, she turned serious again. "Promise me something."

"What?" I murmured.

"Don't let Clarissa get into your head. Talk to him. Hear it from him, not her."

I forced a smile, but I couldn't make the promise. Not yet.

Inside my room, I curled up on my bed, staring at my silent phone. His name was there in my messages, waiting. All I had to do was reach out.

But my fingers hovered, trembling, before I pulled the blanket over my head instead.

Avoiding him felt safer. Even if it broke me a little more each day.

The next few days felt like walking through a fog.

Brian was everywhere, and yet I kept running from him. In the diner I pretended to be busy so we wouldn't be alone.

But the harder I tried to avoid him, the more aware I became of him. Every laugh, every time I stare into space thinking of him, every glance I caught from the corner of my eye, it was like my body had been trained to notice him, even when my mind screamed at me to stop.

Sophie, of course, noticed everything.

"You're avoiding him," she said bluntly on Thursday, plopping her tray down across from me at lunch.

I nearly choked on my water. "What? No, I'm not."

Her eyebrows shot up so high they nearly touched her hairline. "You just made a U-turn down an entire hallway to escape eye contact. That's not 'no.' That's the Olympic level of avoidance."

I stabbed my fork into my salad, refusing to look at her. "I just... I don't feel like talking to him right now."

"Uh-huh. And pigs fly," Sophie muttered, leaning forward. "Alice, you can't keep doing this. It's not healthy. If you have questions, if you have doubts, then you need answers. From him. Not Clarissa."

Her words hit hard because I knew she was right. But the fear inside me was louder. "What if Clarissa's telling the truth? What if he really wants to be with her? I don't think I can handle hearing it from him."

Sophie softened, her voice gentler. "And what if she's lying? What if this is all part of her game to keep you running? Then you're just letting her win."

My chest tightened. "I'm not strong like you, Sophie."

She reached across the table, squeezing my hand. "You're stronger than you think. You've been surviving so much for so long, Alice. Don't let her convince you otherwise."

Her words warmed me, but I couldn't shake the ache in my chest.

That night, after my shift at the diner, I collapsed onto my bed with exhaustion clinging to my bones. My phone lit up on the nightstand. For a moment, I thought it was Sophie texting me, but it wasn't.

It was Brian.

Can we talk?

Three words. Simple. Yet they sent my heart into a frenzy. My fingers hovered over the screen, trembling with the urge to reply. To say yes. To let him in.

But Clarissa's voice hissed in my head. Fiancé. Infatuation. Back to his senses.

Tears blurred my vision as I set the phone facedown, burying it under my pillow. I couldn't do it. Not tonight.

Instead, I curled up, clutching the small stuffed bear Sophie had won for me at the arcade. The soft fur soaked up my tears as the silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating.

I hated this. I hated the fear, the confusion, the way my heart longed for him even while my mind screamed at me to stay away.

For the first time in a long time, I wished I could just be like Sophie, loud, fearless, unshaken by the world. But I wasn't. I was me. And right now, being me felt unbearably small.

When I finally drifted into sleep, my dreams betrayed me.

Brian's eyes, his voice, his touch, they haunted me, sweet and cruel all at once.

And when 

I woke the next morning, the ache was still there.

Worse than ever.

Chapter 23 –The Intermediary part one

Brian

The week had been hell.

Not the kind of hell built on fire and brimstone, but the quiet, gnawing kind where every thought clawed at the edges of my sanity. Alice was avoiding me. Not in the subtle, playful way that hinted at shyness, but in the deliberate, gut-wrenching way of someone who had been convinced she needed to cut me off.

And I knew exactly who had driven her to that conclusion, Clarissa.

The night I ended things with her should have been the closing of a chapter. Instead, it had opened a battlefield. I hadn't even given Alice the chance to hear it from me. That was my mistake. My pride had told me to let my actions speak for themselves, to let Clarissa figure it out and walk away quietly. But Clarissa had never been the type to walk away. She would drag her nails down the walls until everyone bled with her.

And Alice? She had bought into the lie.

Three unanswered calls. Two texts left on read. When I stopped by the diner under the pretense of needing coffee, she hid in the kitchen. That cut deeper than I cared to admit.

By the fourth day of being shut out, I realized I couldn't keep waiting for her to come around. If she wouldn't let me through the front door, I'd find another way.

That way turned out to be Sophie.

Alice's best friend. Her shadow, her defender, her constant. I knew from the first time I'd seen Sophie roll her eyes at me across the diner counter that she wasn't impressed by me, not by my reputation, not by my wealth, not by the name I carried. She wasn't like the others. Which made her perfect, and inconvenient.

Because if I wanted Alice back, I had to go through Sophie first.

So here I was, standing outside a small independent coffee shop on a Saturday morning, scanning the crowd until I saw her. She was perched on a high stool near the window, a latte in front of her and a notebook open. Her pen moved quickly, the tip scratching across the page like she was solving all the world's problems in ink.

I walked inside. The air smelled like roasted beans and cinnamon, warm and sharp. A few heads turned, people always looked, whether they meant to or not. I had long since stopped acknowledging it. My focus was Sophie.

She noticed me almost immediately. Her pen froze mid-sentence. Her eyes narrowed. And then, instead of offering a polite nod, she muttered something under her breath and very deliberately flipped her notebook closed.

"Of all the people," she said when I reached her table, "it had to be you."

"Good morning to you too," I replied smoothly, sliding into the chair opposite her without asking permission.

Her brows shot up. "Excuse me, did I say you could sit?"

"No. But if I'd waited for an invitation, I'd still be standing outside."

She leaned back in her seat, arms crossed. "Maybe that's where you should've stayed."

I almost smiled. She was quick. Quicker than most. But I hadn't come here for a verbal sparring match, tempting as it was.

"I need to talk to you, Sophie."

"About what? Stocks? Investments? Your cologne?" Her gaze flicked up and down me, sharp and mocking. "Because I can't imagine what else you and I could possibly have to discuss."

"Alice."

The name hung between us, cutting through the noise of the coffee shop. Sophie's playful mockery drained from her face, replaced with an expression I couldn't quite read. Protective. Suspicious. Ready to fight.

She tapped her fingers on the table. "She told me about you."

That stung. Not because I didn't expect it, but because of how she said it, flat, final, as though the verdict had already been passed.

"And what exactly did she tell you?" I asked carefully.

"That you're engaged. That you've been stringing her along while playing house with Clarissa. That you..." she stopped herself, jaw tightening. "You know what, it doesn't matter what else. Point is, you're bad news."

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "Clarissa and I are over."

Sophie tilted her head, unconvinced. "Sure. And I'm the Queen of England."

I couldn't help it, I chuckled. "You don't make it easy, do you?"

"I'm not supposed to. Alice is my friend. My family. You think I'm going to let some rich guy with too much charm and not enough honesty waltz in and break her?"

Her loyalty was infuriating and admirable all at once. I liked that about her. Alice deserved people who fought for her like this.

"I'm not here to hurt her," I said quietly, the truth weighing heavy on each word. "I'm here because I can't stand another day of her thinking I chose Clarissa over her. That couldn't be further from the truth."

Sophie's lips curved into a thin smile. "Words. That's all I hear. And I'm not sure Alice needs more of those from you."

She was good. Better than most negotiators I'd ever faced across boardroom tables. She had leverage, and she knew it.

"Then what would convince you?" I asked.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?"

For the first time since I'd sat down, I leaned back and studied her. Sophie wasn't the type to be swayed by theatrics. She wanted proof, substance, consistency. The same things Alice valued.

"Convince me," she said finally, drumming her fingers once more. "Convince me you're not just another heartbreak waiting to happen."

Sophie

The nerve of him.

He looked too perfect for a Saturday morning, like he'd just stepped out of a magazine shoot instead of real life. Sharp suit, watch gleaming, hair that probably took a stylist twenty minutes to get right. Meanwhile, I was in jeans and a hoodie with coffee stains on the sleeve.

And he still thought he could sit across from me and charm his way through.

Except I wasn't Alice. I saw through the type. I'd seen enough of them try their luck around campus or the diner. Smooth talkers. Perfect smiles. Promises that turned to dust.

But this wasn't just any guy. This was Brian Carter. The Brian. Billionaire. Business heir. The kind of man people whispered about in awe. And the kind of man who, apparently, had my best friend tangled in a mess she didn't deserve.

I stared at him, at those calm blue eyes that didn't flinch under my scrutiny. If he was lying, he was damn good at it.

"You really think," I said slowly, "that I'm going to hand Alice over like she's some kind of project manager position you can just hire for?"

One corner of his mouth tugged up. "That wasn't exactly how I planned to phrase it."

"You don't get it," I pressed, leaning forward now. "Alice is... she's been through enough. She doesn't need confusion. She doesn't need to be someone's rebound. And she sure as hell doesn't need Clarissa's leftovers."

That got a reaction. His jaw tightened. "Alice will never be anyone's leftover. Not mine. Not anyone's."

The conviction in his tone caught me off guard. It wasn't defensive; it was something else. Fierce. Territorial.

For a second, I almost believed him. Almost.

But believing wasn't my job. Protecting Alice was.

"You say Clarissa's out of the picture," I said. "So what, you expect me to clap and say, 'Great, go break my best friend's heart now'?"

"I expect you to listen," he said firmly. "And to understand that I don't want to hurt Alice. I want her. All of her. For as long as she'll have me."

The coffee shop buzzed around us, machines whirring, people laughing, baristas calling orders. But between us, it was silent. Heavy.

I exhaled slowly, realizing this wasn't going to be as simple as brushing him off.

"Fine," I said at last, though my tone was sharp. "You get five minutes. Convince me you're not full of it."

The smug smile he gave me made me want to throw my latte at him. But I stayed put.

Because maybe, just maybe, I needed to hear what he had to say.