THE COST OF REVENGE

CHAPTER 3: THE ULTIMATE CHECKMATE

As I stood there, the g*n trembling in my hands, a thought struck me—sharp, clear, and more powerful than the rage I had been holding onto. Killing Austin would be the end of the road for him, and it might even leave Jake with a fleeting moment of grief. But that wasn’t what I wanted. Jake didn’t deserve closure or relief. He deserved torment.

Lowering the g*n, I took a shaky breath and stared at the frail man in front of me. He was more than a helpless old man. He was my opportunity. Jake’s downfall wouldn’t come with a bullet—it would come with the very man who had built the empire Jake thrived on.

Austin could be a tool. A weapon in my hands.

I wiped my tears, shoved the g*n into my bag, and wheeled him into the spare room. The next morning, I began to piece together my plan.

The first step was simple: keep Austin alive and stable, but under my control. His Alzheimer’s diagnosis meant he wasn’t fully lucid, but I could work around that. I had his medical records and evidence of his condition; no one would dare to challenge me if I played this right.

Over the next few weeks, I focused on two things: getting Austin physically healthier and mentally pliable. I made daily trips to a pharmacy far from my neighborhood, where no one would recognize me, to stock up on Alzheimer’s medication. I followed his prescribed doses but occasionally slipped in a little more when I needed his mind sharper. The results weren’t immediate, but they came.

Austin began to respond to me, his hazy gaze sharpening just enough for short periods. I would sit with him, coaching him through simple phrases, like “Clara is my wife” or “I want Clara to handle my affairs.” He didn’t always get it right at first, but with enough repetition, he started parroting the lines back to me.

Every day, I told him the same story: “You’re my husband, Austin. You’ve been sick, but I’ve been taking care of you. I’ve always been by your side.” He didn’t argue or question it—he simply accepted it. Whether it was the medication or the Alzheimer’s, I didn’t care. All that mattered was that he believed me.

In public, I was careful. I took him on quiet strolls at odd hours, keeping him away from anyone who might recognize him. I dressed him in plain clothes, disguising him as just another elderly man out for fresh air.

By the fourth week, he was calling me “darling” without hesitation. He still had moments of confusion, but I had trained him to hide it. When I asked him a question he didn’t understand, he would repeat a line I had drilled into him: “I trust Clara. She handles everything.”

It was time for the next step.

I found a marriage lawyer who specialized in unorthodox cases. The kind of lawyer who didn’t ask too many questions as long as the fee was high enough. I told him Austin wanted to ensure our marriage was legally binding, and I needed a certificate to reflect that. I handed over the necessary documents—Austin’s ID.

Within a week, the lawyer handed me the certificate. I stared at it for a long moment, my heart pounding. It was real. On paper, Austin Blackwell and I were husband and wife.

Jake would never see this coming.

By then, Austin had become the perfect pawn. He could carry on brief conversations, follow basic instructions, and even smile at strangers like nothing was wrong. I had turned him into exactly what I needed: a man who could play his part just long enough to help me tear Jake’s world apart.

The plan was in motion. And this time, I wasn’t going to fail.

The conference room was filled with the low hum of conversation as I walked in, the air thick with tension and anticipation. My heels clicked against the marble floor, and the sound was enough to draw every pair of eyes in the room. They all turned toward me, but I only had eyes for one person—Jake.

He was seated at the head of the table, his suit sharp, his glasses glinting under the overhead lights. The confidence in his posture was unmistakable. He didn’t notice me at first, too engrossed in the papers spread out before him. But when he finally looked up, his face twisted in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was sharp, almost a bark. “Who let you in?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I walked further into the room, my heels slicing through the silence like a knife. My pulse quickened, but I kept my expression calm, composed. I was here for a reason, and nothing—especially not Jake—was going to shake me.

Jake grabbed the phone on the table, already barking orders. “Security, get up here now! We have an intruder in the conference room.”

The other board members looked around nervously, exchanging puzzled glances. Some of them whispered amongst themselves, while others avoided my gaze entirely. I didn’t blame them. They didn’t know what was coming. But I did.

Before Jake could escalate things further, the heavy doors behind me creaked open. The room fell silent, and I turned to see Austin stepping in, his cane tapping rhythmically against the floor. Every head in the room swiveled to him, and the atmosphere shifted instantly.

“Dad?” Jake’s voice was a mixture of surprise and irritation. “What are you doing here?”

Austin didn’t answer. Instead, he walked slowly to my side, his presence commanding every bit of attention in the room. He handed me a folder—a sleek black one that I’d seen many times before. My heart raced as I took it, but outwardly, I remained calm. This was the moment we’d planned, and I wasn’t about to falter now.

Jake frowned, his confusion deepening. “What the hell is going on here?”

I opened the folder and pulled out the documents inside. “This,” I said, holding up the papers for everyone to see, “is a signed transfer of ownership. Effective immediately, I am the new CEO of Titan Industries.”

The room erupted into gasps and murmurs. Jake shot to his feet, his chair screeching loudly against the floor. His face turned red, a mixture of shock and rage twisting his features. “You can’t be serious!” he spat, his voice rising. “This is a joke, right?”

I turned to Austin, who gave me a small nod of encouragement. Then, he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “Clara,” he said warmly, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “you’ve been my peace of mind. You deserve this.”

Jake’s jaw dropped, and for the first time, he looked genuinely lost for words. The other board members stared in stunned silence, their expressions a mix of awe and confusion. I let the moment hang in the air for a beat longer before turning my attention back to Jake.

“Oh, it’s no joke,” I said, my voice icy and calm. “You’re fired, Jake. Effective immediately.”

“What?” His voice cracked. “You can’t do this! You don’t have the authority—”

“I do now,” I interrupted, holding up the signed transfer documents. “And if you have a problem with it, you’re welcome to take it up with your Dad.” I gestured to Austin.

Jake’s rage boiled over. He slammed his fists on the table, glaring at me with pure venom in his eyes. “You won’t get away with this,” he growled.

I tilted my head, feigning sympathy. “Oh, but I already have.”

“How did you get him out of his care centre, how could you stoop so low—”

I ordered security to send him out before he completed his statement.

---

The following weeks were a whirlwind of activity. I wasted no time making changes, starting with the complete overhaul of the board. One by one, I replaced the old members with new faces—people I could trust, people who wouldn’t stab me in the back the way Jake had.

I threw myself into the work, determined to rebuild not just the company but my own life. Every day was a challenge, but I thrived on it. There was something deeply satisfying about getting control, about proving to myself—and to Jake—that I was capable of so much more than he had ever given me credit for.

Of course, it wasn’t just about revenge. There were moments, late at night in my office, when I allowed myself to think about the future. About what I could build, not just for myself, but for the employees who depended on this company. For the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of hope.

As for Jake, he didn’t go quietly. Rumors swirled about his attempts to undermine me, to rally support from those loyal to him. But I was ready for him. Every move he made, I was one step ahead. He underestimated me, and that was his biggest mistake.

One evening, as I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows in my new office, looking out at the city lights, I allowed myself a small smile. The road ahead was still uncertain, but I wasn’t afraid. I’d come this far, and I wasn’t about to stop now.

Let Jake try to fight me. Let the world throw whatever it wanted my way. I was Clara—CEO of Titan Industries—and for the first time in my life, I knew exactly who I was.

I wiped the sweat off my brow as I returned from my morning jog. The cool air had done little to soothe the storm inside me. As I approached my balcony, I saw him—Jake. He leaned against the rail with an unnerving calmness, a smirk tugging at his lips. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“I hope you’re not here to beg, Jake,” I said, stepping inside.

He followed me into the living room, the familiarity of his presence as unwelcome as ever. I called out for one of the house staff but received no response. Odd, but I brushed it off—Jake was already rambling.

He started with the predictable apologies, words drenched in insincerity. “I’m sorry, Clara. I was wrong. I can’t undo what I did, but I want to make it right.”

I stopped him, raising a hand. “No, Jake. You’re only saying this because your life is falling apart. Don’t think I can’t see through you.” My voice was cold, my words cutting through his pathetic façade.

He flinched but quickly recovered, his smirk returning. “Well, Clara, you’re about to get what you deserve.”

Before I could respond, the sound of heavy boots filled the house. My heart sank as several police officers stormed in.

“Clara , you’re under arrest for the murder of Austin Sidewell,” one of them said, g*n raised.

My head spun. “What? Murder? That’s impossible! I just left the house—Austin was here before I went jogging!”

I struggled as they cuffed my hands, confusion and dread swirling inside me. Then, one officer went upstairs and returned moments later, wheeling Austin’s lifeless body into the living room.

He was slumped in his chair, blood staining his shirt, bullet wounds visible in his head.

“No… No, this isn’t real,” I whispered, my knees threatening to give out.

Jake stood there, watching, his smirk now a full grin of triumph.