Thirst for revenge

Chapter Two- Two years later

(Ariana’s POV)

Two years.

That’s how long it took for me to turn my grief into a plan. For two years, I hid behind a smile that didn't reach my eyes. I watched my siblings grow without the fatherly love, and my mom played the role of both father and mother.

Now I stood in front of the tall glass building that bore the name WILLIAMS GLOBAL INDUSTRIES, an industry which I intend to tarnish.

The company was a monument of power. The kind of place where people walked fast, spoke in polished English, and worshipped the man at the top — Jake Williams, CEO, billionaire, and father to the drunk who killed mine.

I inhaled slowly, adjusting the strap of my bag as I stared at my reflection through the glass mirrors.

“This is it,” I said to myself.

I was no longer the Ariana from two years ago. That girl was gone.

This one had learned how to survive.

And how to smile in the midst of chaos.

****

I got into the reception area and it smelled like money. A lady stood behind the counter—she was young, mid-20s, I'd say.

Welcome, ma'am, she said to me politely. And asked if I had an appointment.

I immediately showed her my visitor's pass and waited to go in for my interview.

A security man glanced at me as I handed him my visitor’s pass. I smiled — that gentle, harmless kind of smile I’d practiced in the mirror for months.

“Good morning,” I said. “I’m here for the HR interview.”

He nodded, scanning the pass before letting me through.

The elevator ride to the twelfth floor felt endless. My heartbeat echoed in my chest, but not from fear. It was anticipation. The kind that came from knowing every step forward brought me closer to my enemies.

The doors opened, and I immediately stepped into the hallway lined with glass offices. The company’s slogan was inscribed on the wall in silver:

“Building Futures, Changing Lives.”

Such irony. I almost laughed while reading it.

They’d built their future on my father’s grave.

****

The interview was quick. I’d spent months preparing — perfecting my résumé, forging references, building a fake background solid enough to pass any check.

When the HR manager asked why I wanted to work at Williams Global, I smiled sweetly and said,

“Because it’s a company that values growth and impact. I want to be part of that.”

She nodded approvingly, completely unaware that what I really meant was:

I want to tear this place apart from the inside.

By the end of the week, I got the call.

I was in.

Administrative Assistant — temporary contract, three months probation. Perfect.

Close enough to observe. Invisible enough not to raise suspicion.

****

It was already my first day at work and it was like I was in a new world. Dressed in corporate— silk shirt, structured skirt, and heels which hurt my feet.

This is your new life, I said to myself.

I sat at my small desk, surrounded by buzzing phones and chatting about projects and deadlines. Everyone was polite, even kind. It made me almost forget my reason for being here. Almost.

But then I saw his name on a report file — Joseph Williams Jr. — and the rage returned to my veins.

Joe.

The man who took my father away from earth.

He wasn’t at the office that week, yet his gossip lingered in the office like a wildfire. The spoilt son. The junkie. The one who squanders his daddy's money.

It was from this same gossip that I learned that his parents were divorced now. His mother, Camilla, ran a charity foundation abroad, and his father rarely spoke of her.

Interesting.

So the perfect family wasn’t so perfect anymore.

I pretended to be friendly, interested, and efficient. The kind of employee who was unseen unless they needed something.

But behind every task, every smile, I was collecting information — small details, patterns, names.

That was how I first heard about Jake Williams’ illness.

It came up in hushed tones between executives — something about him skipping meetings, appearing weak. At first, I thought it was a rumor. But a week later, I saw him in person.

****

He walked past my desk surrounded by assistants and board members. He had an intimidating presence— tall, commanding, but… frail. His once-dark hair had a bit of silver in it, his face thinner than in the photos I’d seen.

He looked unwell, like he was fighting something invisible.

When his eyes briefly met mine, I froze. But there was something in his stare that made me pity him— tiredness or maybe regret, I didn't know.

All I knew was that it was the man whose son had ruined my life.

The man who sheltered a killer.

And yet… he looked nothing like the monster I’d imagined.

I forced myself to look away, my heart cold again. Sympathy was a weakness. I couldn’t afford that.

****

A few weeks passed.

I blended in perfectly. I tried to be organized, polite, and efficient. The kind of worker bosses trusted and colleagues liked.

Until one evening, as I was packing up to leave, a message came through from the CEO’s office:

“Mr. Williams would like to see you.”

My hands went cold.

Why me?

I stalled outside his office for a bit, imagining a million reasons why he wanted to see me, before finally knocking gently.

“Come in.”

His voice was deep and controlled.

I stepped into his big office. It was larger than any other office in the organization. He had framed pictures of his family lined on shelves. His table was made of glass unlike the other offices. And it smelled like a wood-like cologne.

“Sit,” Jake said.

I obeyed, without an expression on my face.

He studied me for a long moment before speaking. “You’ve been here two months, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded slowly. “You’re efficient. Professional. Quiet. Calculated. I like that.”

“Thank you.”

He leaned back, coughing lightly. “I’m going to be blunt, Miss Osei. I don’t have time for small talk. I’m dying.”

The words hit me like a punch.

I blinked, unsure if I’d heard right. “Sir?”

He smiled faintly — a sad smile. “Cancer. Terminal. Doctors say I have months, maybe less.”

I didn’t know what to say. My heart raced, not out of pity, but confusion. Why was he telling me this? It's not like I could cure him.

He looked at me again, his eyes sharper now. “I’ve spent my whole life building this company, and yet… the people closest to me only wait for me to die. My ex-wife, my son — they circle me like vultures waiting to feed on me like it's prey.”

He chuckled bitterly. “So I’m thinking of doing something… uncommon.”

I sat still, my hands squeezed tightly in my lap.

He leaned forward. “Tell me, Miss Osei… do you believe people deserve second chances?”

I met his eyes. “No, sir. Some people deserve consequences.”

For a second, his expression shifted — a flash of surprise, then amusement. “You’re honest. I like that.”

He stood, walking toward the window. The city lights glowed below us. “I’ve decided to get married again,” he said quietly. “A legal arrangement. Nothing emotional. I need someone honest who won't betray me. Someone I can trust to execute my will and protect what’s mine when I’m gone.”

My breath caught.

Was he serious?

He turned back to face me. “I want you to consider it.”

For a moment, my breath seized. Me? Marry him?

The man whose son killed my father?

I felt the air leave my lungs, my heart pounding in disbelief.

I should’ve said no immediately. I should’ve walked out. But instead, I just sat there, staring at him — the man whose family had destroyed mine — and realized fate was handing me something darker.

An opportunity.

A door straight into the enemy’s house.

“Think about it,” he said calmly, unaware of the storm inside me. “And if you agree… We’ll make it official.”

“But don't take too long to decide, I'm afraid I don't have much time left.”

He smiled faintly. “You might just be the last person I trust before I die.”

As I left his office that night, the rain began again — the incident of two years ago, resurfaced in my memory.

I looked up at the sky and smiled for the first time in a long while.

“So this is how it begins,” I whispered. “The revenge my father deserves.”