He Found My Secret Revenge

her skin. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, gripping the porcelain

d still

on her wrist was heavier than the

ot le

grabbed a rough paper towel and scrubbed her f

d on her street clothes-a faded grey hoodie that had seen better days and a pair of jeans tha

the skin under her eyes. Her hair was a messy k

ess and he still looked at me like I wa

er locker. Three shor

lack, text white. An encrypted noti

UCCESSFUL. HAMPTON HOLDINGS STOC

ce by piece, from the shadows. And he had just been in her trauma room, c

, twisted in her gut. She

ket, and grabbed her keys. She needed to get out of here. She needed t

nd whipped through her thin hoodie, cutting straight to the bone. Faith hunched her shou

t in the rear door and an engine that sounded like a dying lawnmower. It was ugly, reliab

seat. The engine sputtered, coughed, and then roa

ered, putting it into rev

d her mirr

d off th

red. A blur

RE

UN

eatbelt. The strap locked, digging painfully

mn

ark and sat there for a se

ry-red Porsche 911. It was angled aggressively across the lan

oor of the Por

oaned. P

med heels that clicked sharply on the asphalt.

hter of one of Hampton

the lapels of his bespoke navy suit, his face twisted in

Mil

all the people in Chicago

egs felt like jelly, but she stood up stra

led out, her voice steady. "An

nose as if the car itself smelled bad. "Are you bli

He looked up, his eyes landing on Faith. A flicker of

ed. Only you would be driving a piece of

d, crossing her a

y snapped. "And you bac

's bumper. It was barely scratched. Her Corolla, on the other hand, had a new,

He walked toward her, invading her personal spa

ur deductible is probably more than the vehicle's value. And

lf," Faith said. "It's

She looked Faith up and down, taking in the baggy hoodie, the tired eyes

her cheeks. Shame, hot and p

voice dropping to a mock whisper. "But some

teeth. "I save lives. What do you do? Move numb

er. "I'm a Vice President at Hampton Holdings now, Faith

you. Move

ou apologize

ha

wrong. Admit you're a screw-up. Just lik

alled into fist

to get back

abbed h

rd, painful. He

e one who threw wine glasses when he didn't get a promotion. "You always were a bitch, Faith. Maybe

vile, so public,

She tried to wre

y screeched, pulling out her

swung her other hand, t

ing his grip. "Or wha

from the streetlam

over them. M

rature droppe

d terrifyingly strong-cla

manly sound. It was a hig

led from the darkness, l

open. Faith stumbled b

as warm. It was solid muscle w

look

stood

d the look in his eyes wasn't human. It was the look