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Chapter 33

Author: C.ELLICA
last update Last Updated: 2025-07-21 18:10:57

Then, as if the universe choreographed the moment, the staff at the salon next door—a high-end, invite-only place where Venice had once been rejected—rushed to greet Krystal with cold sparkling water and custom-scented hand towels.

“Miss Hunter, your 2PM stylist is ready. We reserved the private suite.”

Venice stood there, outside the glass doors, people walking past her like she didn’t exist.

Krystal disappeared into the building.

Venice didn’t speak for a long time.

Her phone buzzed.

A text from Ivy:

“Did you see Krystal’s face at the Vogue dinner? I think she has staff. STAFF, VENICE.”

Another from MJ:

“She’s faking it. She has to be. Right?”

Venice stared at her reflection in the salon glass. She didn’t look fake.

She looked powerful.

And for the first time, Venice didn’t want revenge.

She wanted answers.

So she sat on the steps. And waited.

Maybe, just maybe, her little cousin slash stepsister would talk to her.

Maybe redemption didn’t always start with apologies.

Sometimes… it s
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  • The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The   Chapter 61

    Inside the elevator, with the scent of that woman’s pungent perfume still attacking my nostrils like a chemical war crime, I texted Tomas with furious precision:Me: Dig deeper on the mayor’s wife. Offshore account. Boy toy lawyer = Darren Johnson. It’s real, not a rumor. Find out when it started.His response was instant, as if he’d been waiting like a loyal little raccoon by a garbage bin of secrets.Tomas: Copy. Gonna call Rico and DanDan now. I’ll use the magic words—‘premium gossip’.I smirked and tucked my phone into the pocket of my fitted blazer just as the elevator pinged open. Rain clattered softly against the tall windows of the Kingsley Building lobby, painting the city in a soft watercolor of grays and blues. Classy weather for a classy little vengeance errand.As I stepped out and into Darren Johnson’s law office reception, my heels clicked with authority. The receptionist—some fresh-faced intern with eyeliner far too ambitious for her face shape—looked up from her moni

  • The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The   Chapter 60

    I sauntered over to Tomas and set the cakes beside him. “Your nerd wages come with glazed incentives,” I said dryly.“Thank you, oh merciful employer who pays me five dollars a month and lets me touch her Wi-Fi,” he said, mouth already full of strawberry cream. His eyes sparkled as he swiveled one monitor toward me. “Okay, boss. We’ve got a Venice problem.”I sat beside him, sipping my coffee like I wasn’t living for this.Apparently, sweet little Venice—our dear darling of overpriced perfumes and knockoff Louboutins—was drowning in debt. Her fashion line was in shambles, thanks to poor budgeting and her inability to pay actual designers. Tomas and his little crew of justice-obsessed IT goblins had discovered emails, DMs, and file trails that showed she’d been stealing from smaller fashion houses and bribing media outlets to give her fake press.I raised a brow. “Bribing the media? With what? Her recycled contour palettes?”Tomas chuckled, clicking away. “It gets better. Or worse. Dep

  • The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The   Chapter 59

    DARREN'S POVShe said her name was Krystal McLaren and wanted to change it to Hunter.But the moment she stepped out of that glass elevator, sharp in a monochrome Dior suit and those cold eyes that flicked over my office like I was part of the wallpaper, something twitched in my memory. A strand I couldn’t place. Her walk was calm, her posture regal—like someone who knew she belonged, even if no one else thought so.She asked for legal consultation. Name change. Simple enough. Family issues. Financial restructuring of personal inheritance. She kept her tone casual, crisp, practiced. Not a flicker of vulnerability.But something didn't sit right.That name—Hunter—wasn’t ringing any bells, but Krystal... Krystal what?She hadn’t offered more than the name on her file, but I saw the hesitation, that almost-imperceptible pause when she signed the intake form.So after she left, polite and cool as chilled gin, I sat at my desk longer than usual. The name gnawed at me.I tried to shake it o

  • The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The   Chapter 58

    Monday morning. 7:02 a.m.I was already awake, perched by the kitchen island as Dessa plated a perfect French breakfast in front of me—fluffy scrambled eggs with herbs, a petite croissant still warm from the oven, and a delicate espresso with a twist of lemon on the side.“Do you want fruit, mademoiselle?” she asked, already reaching for the imported figs.“No need,” I said, brushing off imaginary crumbs from the counter. “I’m not here to be sweet today.”She gave me a look but said nothing, and I liked that about her.I took my time. Ate slowly. Thought carefully.Because today wasn’t just about visiting Darren Johnson.Today was about looking him in the eye and making sure he had no clue who I really was.By 9:00 a.m., I was dressed and ready.A tailored Dior suit, black with crisp white accents, hugged my frame like it had been stitched onto my soul. The blazer’s collar was sharp enough to cut a rumor in half. My slacks flowed like liquid elegance when I walked, and I’d chosen Prad

  • The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The   Chapter 57

    Monday morning came soft and cloudy.There was no red carpet, no camera flashes, no moving truck with logos. Just me, a duffel bag, two potted plants, and the kind of calm that only comes when you know exactly what you’re walking away from—and exactly what you’re walking toward.I stood by the doorway of my old apartment, still barefoot, sipping the last coffee I’d make from the dented kettle I refused to replace for years. The place smelled like familiarity: leftover dumplings, coconut shampoo, and the stubborn scent of resilience.I heard the knock before I even turned. It was Tita Maribel, in her usual oversized blouse and bedroom slippers, holding a tin of homemade banana bread.“You sure you’re leaving, hija?” she asked, already glancing around like she could stop me with motherly guilt.I gave her a small smile. “Just moving upstairs in life, Tita. But I’m keeping this unit.”She squinted. “Keeping? But you just got yourself a penthouse!”“It’s not for me,” I said, brushing a bi

  • The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The   Chapter 56

    TOMAS POVIt started with a name and a one-dollar bill that probably had more security protocols than a missile launch.Darren Johnson.To the world, he was the lawyer of legends. Power-dressed, clean-shaven, always photographed on the steps of marble courthouses with a subtle smirk and clients who looked like they owned half the world—and probably did.But to me?He was a glitch. Krystal never asked for something that didn’t matter. If she said dig, you didn’t bring a shovel. You brought a backhoe, night vision goggles, and six different proxies.First stop: Johnson’s public profile. Clean. Too clean.Second stop: private background networks, closed forums, and offshore data leaks. The man was a ghost in a world that thrived on traces.And yet—money talked. I used the dollar Krystal gave me to unlock a server chain tied to six cold wallets and one blinking red file marked simply: "For Tomas."Inside was a directive list. Fake identities. IP masks. Shadow routers. And—because she knew

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