Chapter thirteen
873 Words
~CRAVING FOR REVENGE~
AMAYA
What on earth was Maddie doing with Brown? I stared at the screen, zooming in slightly on the hope that I had somehow misread the image the first time. But there was no mistake. She was sitting too comfortably, too close to him.
Maddie and I were sisters by blood, but that was where the connection ended. Growing up with her felt like constantly fighting for space in my own life. If I got something new, she wanted it too. If attention shifted toward me for even a second, she found a way to pull it back.
And somehow, my mother always defended her.
‘Let your sister have it.’
‘You’re older, be mature.’
‘Why are you always difficult?’
That was my childhood in three sentences. Even though Maddie and I were only a year apart, she always acted differently. I was twenty-four, and she was twenty-three. Eventually, I stopped fighting for things. It was easier to lose quietly than be blamed loudly.
I looked back at the picture again, trying to calm my thoughts.
Maybe it meant nothing or she just happened to be there. Brown had met my family countless times over the years, so Maddie being around him shouldn’t have bothered me this much. But something about the image felt wrong. It was too intimate. And after years of being lied to, my instincts no longer trusted things that looked harmless.
I exited his story abruptly and tossed the phone beside me for a second before another thought crept in.
Ethan. Who exactly was he?
The question had been sitting in the back of my mind since last night. A man with armed guards, private informants, influence strong enough to disappear people without panic… yet he only introduced himself as Ethan.
No surname. No details.
And that bothered me more now that my head was clearer. Why was he being so nice to us? Was it just pity?
Picking the phone back up, I typed Ethan into the search bar. Hundreds of accounts populated the screen instantly, filled with profiles of models, businessmen, random teenagers, and a few verified influencers. I tapped on three different profiles before getting annoyed and backing out again. None of them were him.
Of course not. I didn’t even know his last name. With a heavy sigh, I dropped back against the headboard, staring blankly at the ceiling. I told him I would wait until he was ready to explain things… but curiosity was already eating at me.
A man like Ethan didn’t feel ordinary.
Even the people around him treated him differently, carefully, and respectfully. And there was still that strange feeling I got whenever he looked at me, like he knew more about my life than he admitted.
I opened the search bar again stubbornly, trying out different combinations. Ethan Cole. Ethan Stiles. Nothing came up. Or, at least, nothing that felt right.
After several more attempts, frustration finally got the better of me. I locked the phone and dropped it onto the bed beside me with a sigh.
“Who exactly are you?” I muttered quietly to myself.
Rising from the bed, I walked slowly toward the mirror once more. For a long moment, I simply stared at my reflection. I forced myself to look past the bruises, the scars, and the swollen skin to see the woman underneath all the damage. In that quiet second, something cold and fiercely determined settled deep inside my chest.
I wanted revenge against Brown.
Not by crying or begging him to love me better. No. I wanted to become the woman he could never touch again. I wanted my confidence back. My spark. My beauty. Everything he spent years tearing apart with insults, control, and his fists.
I wanted to get my spark back so brightly that it would burn his ego alive. I wanted him to look at me one day and realize he destroyed the best thing he ever had. And by then… I wouldn’t even look his way. And more than anything, I wanted him jealous.
So jealous that it would destroy him watching me move on without him.
But the confidence inside me weakened the second my eyes settled on the bruises again.
I slowly removed the scarf from my face, gripping the edge of the vanity tightly as I stared at myself. The marks along my neck were still visible. My lip had healed slightly, but the discoloration remained. Even my eyes looked tired.
For a second, doubt crept in again. How could I make him regret losing me when I barely recognized myself anymore?
My fingers curled against the vanity.
“No,” I whispered firmly to my reflection. “I can do this.”
I had survived him, and that alone meant something.
I reached for the bag containing my jewelry and hidden cash. The weight of it grounded me slightly. Those valuables were my emergency plan. My independence. If things ever went wrong, I could sell them and start over somewhere far away. Just not yet.
I carefully placed the bag inside the wardrobe before shutting it.
A knock sounded on the door.
Then Ethan’s voice followed. “Amaya?”
- Writer
