Revenge Sucks more than Betrayal

Episode 3

Angel’s POV

The next few days were some of the hardest I had ever experienced. It felt as though I was grieving, not just for the betrayal, but for the loss of something I could never get back. I stayed locked in my room, sulking, and feeling sorry for myself, unable to shake the weight of everything that had happened.

For reasons I couldn't explain, I found myself waiting for a call that I knew, deep down, would never come. I waited, hoping against hope that Tyson would somehow find the decency to call and apologise.

I also hoped that Dawn would come to her senses, realise the depth of her betrayal, and seek my forgiveness. But as the hours dragged on, I could feel the harsh reality sinking in, reminding me that neither of those things was likely to happen.

I checked my email, hoping the agency might have assigned me to a work office. But, as expected, there was nothing. I had a few days left before officially starting my new job, so I still had time, but it didn't make the waiting any easier.

Julie had gone on a trip with Mike, leaving me alone in the quietness of the house. When she had offered to cancel her trip and stay with me, I had brushed it off, thinking I would be fine on my own. Now, in the silence of the house, I regretted that decision.

The loneliness consumed me as I reflected on Julie's words. I had wanted so badly to get back at Tyson, to make him feel the way I did, or even worse but getting rid of him, felt like a line I wasn’t ready to cross, not after I had narrowly escaped the last time. It seemed too far, even if my anger urged me to take it.

I kept telling myself that starting work would be my escape the pain. It would give me something to focus on, occupy my mind and help me move past the constant thoughts of betrayal. The routine would bring back some normalcy to my life, and I couldn't wait to start.

As I sank deeper into my thoughts, my phone rang, pulling me back to the present. When I saw my father's name flashing on the screen, I sighed heavily. I hesitated momentarily, unsure if I was ready to talk to him, but eventually, I swiped to answer.

"Hello, Dad," I said, my voice carrying the exhaustion I had been carrying for days.

"Where are you now?" he asked, his voice full of concern, catching me off guard. He should have known where I was, but I still answered.

Furrowing my brows, I replied, "I’m at home, Dad." My voice was steady, but the tension was palpable as I waited for his response.

“There’s an emergency family meeting, and I need you here in the next thirty minutes,” my father said, his voice calm but firm.

I sat up straight, a sense of confusion creeping over me. “Is there a problem?” I asked, puzzled by his sudden, urgent demand.

“Must there always be a problem before I can see my daughter?” he replied, his tone carrying an edge of impatience.

I stayed silent, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected words.

“Your sister and brother are already here. We’re waiting for you, so you better hurry up,” he added, his voice unyielding. Before I could speak, he ended the call, leaving me staring at the screen in disbelief.

This was odd. We hadn’t had a family meeting in ages, and whenever one was needed, I usually received a text. A call from my father was unusual, especially one that was so urgent. I couldn’t help but wonder what could possibly be important enough for him to call me directly, without even a simple inquiry about how I was doing.

What could be so urgent that he didn’t even ask about my well-being before delivering his message? The thought lingered in my mind, but I felt too drained and uninterested to even get out of bed and get dressed. It was as if the weight of everything else had left me with little energy to care.

But then, in the midst of my confusion, something occurred to me.

What if—just what if—they were finally trying to address the rift between Dawn and me before it got further out of control? Could my dad finally be confronting Dawn for what she did?

The idea of this filled me with energy I hadn’t felt in days and gave me the push I needed to dress up. Maybe, just maybe, this time Dawn would finally be held accountable for the hurt she had caused me.

I had only thirty minutes to get to the family house, but it seemed impossible. I was still in bed, and getting ready would take longer than that—especially if I wanted to cover up the sadness in my face with a perfect layer of makeup.

I couldn’t let anyone see how broken I felt, not now. Not in front of anyone, especially not in front of Dawn. She would only use it against me, and I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of seeing my weakness.

******

It took me over an hour and a half to finally get to the family house, and when I arrived, everyone was already sitting at the dining table, ready to eat.

“Always showing up late to family functions, as usual,” my brother sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I ignored his petty comment, rolling my eyes at his remark. I walked right past him and Dawn, heading straight for my parents. But I was met with an icy reception before I could even greet them. My father didn’t even acknowledge me, and neither did my stepmother. Her cold demeanour was nothing new, so I didn’t take it personally.

“I apologise for being late, I was just—” I started, trying to maintain a composed, mature attitude. But before I could finish my sentence, my stepmother cut me off.

“Save it,” she said dismissively, waving her hand like she couldn’t care less. “No one cares. Just sit down, find a spot, and let’s get this over with so we can move on,” she spat, her tone sharp and condescending.

The nerve of this woman. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and turned my gaze to my father. He remained as unfazed as ever, his indifference to his wife’s rudeness as clear as day.

Feeling like I had no choice, I sat at the far end of the table, away from the others. As I did, I couldn’t help but notice Dawn’s small, mocking chuckle.

Inside, I smiled bitterly, knowing this meeting would end in a way that would leave me with the upper hand.

A few minutes into the meal, my father broke the uncomfortable silence. He cleared his throat before speaking, his voice cutting through the tension.

“So, when are you getting married to Tyson?” he asked bluntly, catching me completely off guard.

My heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in my throat. I paused for a moment, trying to steady myself before I could respond. I focused on cutting into my steak to avoid giving away how rattled I felt.

“The marriage between me and Tyson isn’t happening, thanks to your daughter,” I replied, my voice dripping with bitterness, unable to hide my anger and hurt.

A heavy silence settled over the table, and the only sound that broke it was Dawn’s quiet chuckle. I furrowed my brows, unsure what to make of the moment, and asked, “Did you hear me?”

My father, calmly setting down his fork, folded his hands neatly on the table and met my gaze with an unwavering stare. His response took me completely by surprise. “I heard you, Angel, but that question wasn’t meant for you.” His words shocked me, leaving me almost choking on my steak.

My father’s attention then shifted towards Dawn, and he flashed her a smile before asking, “So, when are you getting married to Tyson?”

Dawn chuckled softly, a shy smile playing on her lips. “Soon, Dad,” she replied as if the situation wasn’t unusual.

I was beyond stunned. The room spun in disbelief as I asked, my voice trembling with confusion, “What the hell is going on here? I am to get married to Tyson and not her!” I exclaimed in anger

“Who cares about which one of you marries Tyson? In the end, we’re still in-laws, and we get the money we always wanted to live a better life. That’s all that matters.” His words were so blunt, they felt like a slap to my face.

I was in shock. This was not at all what I had expected when I agreed to attend this family meeting. My mouth opened, but I could barely speak. The reality of the situation left me paralysed, unable to find the right words.

Tears threatened to spill as I struggled to hold my composure. My voice quivered with emotion as I finally asked, “And what about me? Does money really matter more than how I feel? Don’t you care about any of this—about me?”

My father’s eyes met mine, but instead of understanding, I saw pity.

Before he could say anything, Amanda, my stepmother, interjected with coldness, her words cutting through the air. “No, we don’t.” She spoke bluntly, leaving no room for any further discussion.

“What use are your feelings to this family?” Amanda sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. “Can your feelings sustain the family business? Can they provide us with the money and connections we need? Can they feed us?” Her words hit me like a slap, each one more crushing than the last.

I clenched my hands tightly on my thighs, feeling the fabric of my dress dig into my skin. I bit down hard on my lower lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. The anger, betrayal, and hatred swirled inside me, making my head spin as I fought to keep control.

The weight of it all made me want to scream, to find some way to make them pay for what they had done to me, but nothing I did or said was enough to change their mind.

Felling frustrated, and angry, I stood up and made my way to the exit with tears in my eyes. What even felt more painful was the fact that no one called me back to apologise, rather their laughter echoed as I ran away.

Finally, I got to my apartment and opened the door, but as soon as I stepped in, I was met with the biggest shock of my life.

I saw Tyson, sitting comfortably on my couch, reeking of alcohol, and my apartment in a mess, as though it had just been raided.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned, ignoring the mess in my room for a moment, my voice filled with fear, but I tried my best to keep a straight face

“Where have you been? I have been waiting for you,” he said, as he staggered up, and towards me, the smell thicker than I imagined. I had no idea what he was going through to make him drink, and honestly, I didn't care one bit.

“Get out of my house,” I ordered, and without a single word, I took a step back to open the door, but before I could even reach the door, he grabbed me. His grip was tight, and all my struggles and attempts to get out of his grip seemed futile.

“Let me go, Tyson,” I yelled. It seemed to have triggered him, as he suddenly landed a loud slap on my face, leaving me stunned, and too weak to fight any longer.

My body went limp and in pain, as he picked me up, and threw me to the bed violently, my hand slamming against a wooden frame, a sharp pain radiated through my wrist, at this point, I knew what he was about to do, my worst fear showing.

“No, please,” I pleaded, struggling against him, but his strength overpowered me. My cries filled the room as I fought with everything I had, yet it wasn’t enough.

I yelled, and screamed, striking him, and pleading for him to stop, but all my efforts were in vain, as he forced himself into me, over and over and over again. Each thrust felt more painful and intense than the last.

And when he was done, he just casually stood up, leaving me helpless and in more severe pain than when I was deflowered.

Without saying a word, he leaned down and kissed my cheek, which I couldn't resist, and left without a word.

Watching his back as he left, Julie’s words crossed my mind, and at this point, all I could think of was get rid of me.