Chapter Six : inferno
1396 Words
Jordan sat cross-legged on her bed, folding clothes into neat stacks. The room smelled like fresh laundry and vanilla from the candle on her nightstand. Rio’s old collar lay beside her pillow—soft leather, worn from play. She avoided looking at it.
The door opened quietly. Elena stepped in, holding a glossy black box wrapped in silver paper, tied with a red ribbon. Her heels clicked once on the hardwood before she kicked them off.
Jordan’s eyes lit up. She squealed, hands already reaching.
“Mummy, is that mine?”
Elena laughed softly, swatting Jordan’s hands away playfully.
“Eh—wait. Did you do your task?”
Jordan nodded fast. “Yes, Mummy. I did it.”
Elena sat on the edge of the bed, box balanced on her lap. “How did it go?”
“No complications. No challenges.”
Elena’s smile was slow, proud. “Okay then. You can have your present.”
Jordan squealed again, snatched the box, tore the paper in seconds. Inside: sleek black Prada boots, buttery leather, signature triangle logo glinting.
She hugged them to her chest. “Thank you, Mummy!”
Elena watched her, eyes soft but sharp. “Otherwise, how was school?”
Jordan sighed, setting the boots aside carefully. “School was okay… less drama apart from the frame on Leo.” She unwrapped another layer of tissue. “Oh—and Leo got a new car. It’s the most expensive in campus so far.”
Elena rolled her eyes. “Ah, Virells are always bragging.”
Jordan laughed once, short. “Yeah, yeah. And how was work?”
Elena leaned back against the headboard, folding one of Jordan’s shirts with her. “Good… just bumped into Lexis. God knows I hate that woman. She insulted me today in public.”
Jordan paused mid-fold, sighed. “Yeah… I know.”
Elena smoothed the fabric. “So tomorrow the results will be stuck on the school notice board. Everyone will see Leo’s fail.”
Jordan nodded, eyes on the shirt.
Elena’s voice dropped. “Baby…”
Jordan looked up. “Yes, Mummy?”
Elena’s smile turned wicked. “Do you wanna make this more interesting?”
Jordan blinked. “Of course, Mama. Why not?”
Elena leaned closer. “You said Leonel Virell came with his new car at school.”
Jordan nodded slowly.
“What about if you blow up his car?”
Jordan froze. Blinked. “Mom… I’m not sure I can do that.”
Elena tilted her head. “Come on, you can. How have you been handling the rest?”
Jordan shook her head. “No, Mummy… that one is too much.”
Elena cupped Jordan’s face gently, thumbs brushing her cheeks.
“Baby, listen. Nothing is too much when it comes to punishing our enemies. Those people have done s**t to us—you know this. You’ve seen it yourself.”
Jordan stared into her mother’s eyes, quiet.
Elena’s voice softened. “So I want your pain and my pain to be triple their pain… hmm?”
Jordan swallowed. Nodded hesitantly.
Elena kissed her forehead. “Good girl.”
Jordan’s voice was small. “Mummy… how is it all gonna be done?”
Elena leaned back. “Simple. The only thing you do is deliver the money to your school guard—that’s only if he’s cooperative.”
Jordan: “He is.”
Elena: “I’ll send two men to do the task. Your security guard will only observe and keep our identities hidden.”
Jordan frowned. “Mom… then I won’t go to school tomorrow.”
Elena raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think will deliver the money?” She paused. “By the way—before we go to that—why aren’t you going to school?”
Jordan: “I don’t want Leo to suspect me.”
Elena nodded slowly. “Okay… okay. Ummm… let’s do this: your school is very strict when it comes to missing class. You’ll fake sickness.”
Jordan: “Yeah… I’ll be on my period.”
Elena smiled. “Yeah. But I need your school guard’s number.”
Jordan scrolled through her phone. “I think I have it… bingo.” She sent it.
Elena pocketed her phone. “Thank you. Good night. Tomorrow is a big day.”
Jordan: “Okay, Mummy.”
Elena kissed her forehead again and left, door clicking shut.
Next morning—early.
A black SUV idled in a side street near campus, tinted windows up. Elena sat in the back, phone to her ear.
Yoshi—buff, broad-shouldered, security guard uniform crisp—stood outside the gate, counting cash with quick fingers.
Elena’s voice through the speaker: “What time will they be here?”
Yoshi: “Anytime from now. Keep our identities hidden.”
Elena: “Always.”
Yoshi nodded, nonchalant. Pocketed the money. Walked away casually.
Elena smirked. Ended the call. Drove off.
That day—break time.
The notice board was mobbed. Students pressed close, phones out, laughing, gasping.
Edna: “Jordan was the highest again.”
Randy: “I get why their parents argue. They differ in so many things.”
Alia: “Poor Virell… handsome with no brains.”
Laughter rippled.
Leonel pushed through the crowd. Face thunder.
“Hey—hey! Stop it! Enough!”
Everyone paused. Stared.
Leonel’s voice cracked with rage. “What are you doing? Making fun of my results? You don’t know me. Now before you and your parents become homeless, unemployed beggars—leave! Or your family will suffer.”
The crowd scattered like leaves in wind. Phones lowered. Footsteps hurried away.
Leonel stood alone, breathing hard. He looked up at the chart—his name near the bottom, red zero glaring.
He reached up. Tore the paper down in one violent rip. Sat on the ground, back against the wall, paper crumpled in his fist.
Timothy leaned nearby. “School drama sucks.”
Kelvin: “I know, right.”
Leonel scrolled his phone. Comments flooded in.
“Handsome without brains 😂”
“Virell money can’t buy IQ”
“Bro decided not to take school serious cause he’s gonna inherit from daddy 🤣”
“I see why the Virells and Azuls fight… one has brains, one has cash”
“Zero? That’s gotta hurt the ego more than the wallet”
He sighed—long, tired. Stood. Walked back to class.
More periods dragged. Teachers came and went. Leonel sat in biology, staring at Jordan’s empty seat, pen tapping absently.
Rebecca snapped her fingers. “Virell… care to tell us what the study of living organisms is?”
Leonel jolted. “Hmm… mind to repeat the question?”
Rebecca sighed. “Are you sure you’re in class? Concentrate, Leonel.”
He nodded. Looked down.
Hours later—class still going—strange noises drifted in. Sirens. Screams. Shouts from outside.
Teachers rushed to the windows.
Justin burst in. “Virell—come outside now.”
Martin: “Come on, Leo.”
Leonel stood slowly, confused. Followed them to the hallway.
Justin: “Does your car give you problems?”
Leonel: “No.”
Martin: “Any leakages? Diesel? Anything?”
Leonel: “Why? Vehicles get serviced by the most powerful mechanics. Don’t worry.”
Justin opened the door to the car park. “Unfortunately… you have to worry.”
Martin: “Your car is on fire.”
Leonel stared.
The Bugatti Chiron Pur Sport—matte black, wings still up—was engulfed. Flames licked the carbon-fiber body. Black smoke billowed. Firefighters sprayed foam. Students filmed. Sirens wailed.
Leonel ran.
“No—no—no!”
He fell to his knees on the asphalt, inches from the heat. Tears filled his eyes. The car he’d driven in that morning—his pride, his flex—was melting.
He whispered, “Do something… it…”
The firefighters kept working. Flames hissed and died slowly.
Leonel watched, tears tracking down his face, jaw clenched.
After some time, the fire was out. Charred skeleton remained.
Leonel stood slowly. Face cold. Almost unrecognizable.
“It starts now.”
On the other side of the city—in a high-rise office with floor-to-ceiling windows—Elena ended a call.
“It is done.”
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Smirked.
- Writer
