26 : Turning The Tables
583 Words
That night, I told Jason everything.
We sat in his car, parked at the far edge of the overlook where the town’s lights glittered below. The windows fogged faintly from the cool night air, and my voice shook as I spilled every detail—Chelsea’s threats, the blackmail, the cruel post about my mom, and finally, her confession in the bathroom.
Jason listened silently, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. When I finished, he didn’t speak right away. He just breathed hard, like he was forcing himself not to explode.
Then, in a low, lethal voice, he said, “We’re done playing defense. It’s time she gets a taste of her own medicine.”
⸻
The old Olivia would’ve begged him to back off, to let it go. But that Olivia had already been broken and rebuilt. I was done being afraid.
So instead, I asked, “How?”
Jason’s lips curled into something sharp. “Chelsea thrives on control. She gets power by making people fear her. So, we take that power away.”
I frowned. “You mean—expose her?”
“Not just expose her,” Jason said, turning toward me, his eyes blazing with determination. “We show everyone exactly who she is. The lies, the manipulation, the obsession. We make her so busy defending herself that she won’t have time to come after us.”
A thrill of both fear and excitement ran through me. “That sounds… dangerous.”
Jason smirked. “Good.”
⸻
Over the next few days, we worked quietly, carefully. Jason tapped into his endless network of teammates, classmates, and even people Chelsea had burned in the past. It turned out she had a lot more enemies than friends.
“She’s been blackmailing others too,” Jason muttered one night as he sifted through screenshots a sophomore had sent him. “Grades, relationships, secrets… she’s been collecting dirt on half the school.”
The more we uncovered, the clearer it became: Chelsea wasn’t powerful. She was desperate, clinging to control through fear and lies.
And if we could show that truth, her empire would crumble.
⸻
The turning point came when Maya joined us.
“I’ve hated that girl for years,” she said, her eyes flashing with determination. “Count me in.”
With her help, we pieced together a plan. Screenshots, testimonies, proof—all compiled into one neat little package. A truth bomb waiting to drop.
Jason wanted to post it online immediately, but I hesitated. “If we do it anonymously, she’ll just spin it as fake. She’ll claim someone’s jealous.”
He arched an eyebrow. “So what do you suggest?”
My chest tightened, but I knew the answer. “We go public. Together.”
Jason’s jaw tightened, like the protective part of him hated the idea. “That paints a target on your back.”
I lifted my chin. “She already painted it. This way, I get to choose how the story ends.”
For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression softening. Then, slowly, he smiled—a real one, not his usual cocky smirk. “You’ve changed, Princess.”
“Maybe,” I said quietly. “Or maybe I just finally got tired of being scared.”
⸻
The plan was set.
Chelsea had spent weeks controlling the story. But soon, we’d take it back.
And when we did, she wouldn’t see it coming.
- Writer
