Sting of revenge

When I opened my eyes, a soft light filtered through the room. A nurse stood beside me, clipboard in hand, her expression gentle.

“Are you alright, ma’am? How do you feel?” she asked quietly.

I blinked, disoriented for a moment, glancing around.

This was our private suite.

“She’s awake now?” 

Adrian.

My pulse quickened. I could already feel the weight of whatever punishment he was planning.

The nurse turned slightly toward him. “Yes, sir. She’s awake, but she needs more time to rest.”

His lips twitched. “How long?”

“ for the next few hours—”

“One hour,” he cut in coldly. “That’s more than enough.”

The nurse hesitated, glancing back at me.

.....

Adrian's POV.

The nurse shook her head firmly. “Twenty-four hours—forty-eight would be even better.”

I nodded, eyes still locked on her trembling figure. She quickly looked away, but I saw it—the fear.

Good.

The nurse excused herself, leaving us alone. Just the two of us.

She looked small now. Fragile. One arm tethered to a drip, her face pale, her lips chapped. But still… beautiful. Too beautiful.

I remembered the first time I saw her.

The way I’d stormed into her world and burned it to ash.

She had been a princess once—graceful, free. Now, she was a captive in my kingdom. A slave to my revenge.

“Prepare yourself,” I said, my voice cold, measured. “There will be consequences for falling ill at such a critical time.”

She trembled again. Delicious.

She feared me. Hated me. And if she ever saw the full monster I was becoming—the beast I barely kept caged—she’d loathe me even more.

I turned and walked out, for now.

But it wasn’t over. Not even close.

---

Later that night...

My bodyguards dragged him in—bag over his head, arms tied. He stumbled, knees hitting the floor with a thud.

I sat, nursing a glass of whiskey, then downed it in one sharp gulp.

The bastard.

“Please… spare me,” he whimpered beneath the sack. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

I gave a nod and the guards ripped the bag off.

He flinched as our eyes met, sweat already soaking through his shirt.

The same man who’d mocked and humiliated her hours ago.

No sign now of that cocky bastard. Just a pathetic, shivering wreck.

I set my glass on the table in front of me.

“What were you thinking?” My voice was calm. “Was it fun… throwing cappuccino in her face?”

“I—I didn’t mean—”

“But you did it anyway.”

His mouth quivered.

I leaned forward, hands clasped. “No one touches her. No one makes her bleed. Except me.”

He looked up, horror in his eyes. That was the truth, I was the only one allowed to hurt her.

“You have to pay,” I said quietly. “Every evil deed has a reward."

I pulled out my phone and dialed. I let it ring, slow and steady while watching the fear spread through his eyes like wildfire.

The line connected.

“Hello, Mr. Rines.”  

“I have a favor to ask of you.”  

He was the type who’d do anything without question—fear was a powerful motivator.  

“You have an employee named Stephan, correct?”  

A short pause.

“I need you to fire him. Immediately.”  

I hung up, without waiting for a response.  

Stephan, now a crumbling mess before me, whimpered pathetically.  

“I’ll make sure you never get hired anywhere else, Stephan,” I said coldly.  

And I meant it. I had the power. Connections. Influence. I could ruin lives with a single phone call.  

“Take him away,” I ordered. “Splash him. Teach him a lesson.”  

“Yes, boss,” Marcus replied, gripping Stephan by the arm and dragging him out.  

No one could disrespect me. More importantly, no one could disrespect her. That right was reserved only for me.

I poured myself another shot of whiskey. The burn did nothing to ease the fire within nor the pain Of my own family—ripped apart, thrown into the grave too soon—all because of the Hollands.  

I clenched my fists as the memories came back. 

I was only eight.  

Waiting for my dad to bring the birthday cake.  

He never returned.  

Then came the slow, painful days—watching my mother die, piece by piece.  

I picked up the whiskey glass and hurled it at the wall.  

The sound of it shattering echoed in the room, splinters scattering across the floor like the pieces of my life.  

This… this was how I’d break her.  

The same way I’d been broken.  

By the time I was done, there’d be nothing left of Zey Holland to put back together.  

....

 I stepped into the suite again, She was asleep on the couch, and the peaceful expression on her face made my skin crawl.  

She had no idea what I had in store for her. My eyes traced the freckles across her cheeks, the softness of her fair skin, and her long hair spilled across the bed.

Maybe it was time. Definitely time to go back home.