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Chapter 42
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2025-07-22 07:43:58
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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
The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The Chapter 55
The old university gates were still there—iron-wrought and weather-worn. They looked smaller now. Or maybe I just felt taller. Stronger.Students milled about under awnings, some with laptops, others with books and steaming paper cups. The campus café was still open near the old library, with the scent of brewed hazelnut and buttered pan de sal wafting out. I paused for a second. My stomach stirred again, but I’d eaten. I wasn’t here for nostalgia. I was here to close a chapter.I entered the Admin Building, water dripping gently from my umbrella, and walked to the registrar’s office.“Good morning,” the woman behind the glass said. She didn’t recognize me. She wouldn’t. Last time I was here, I was sobbing and begging for an extension. Now, I just nodded and slipped a ten dollar bill and ID under the glass.“Settle my full balance, please,” I said.Her eyebrows shot up. She typed fast. She paused. She looked again.“Miss Krystal… you’re cleared. Do you want a printed certificate of pa
The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The Chapter 54
Two blocks later, I entered the coffee shop on the corner. All glass, brass, and whispers of jazz playing from discreet speakers. The scent of cinnamon and espresso clung to the air.The barista blinked when I walked in—soaked hoodie, dripping shoes, no umbrella—and then smiled politely.“I’ll have six lattes, two trays of mocha cakes, and... do you still have the vanilla cronuts?”“Yes, ma’am. Fresh batch just out.”“Box them.”Ten minutes later, I left with two large paper bags, steam curling up from the cups inside. I walked with purpose, ignoring the stares. No one expected a girl who looked like a drenched college dropout to walk out of that bank and then drop a 1 cent on pastries.Good.Let them wonder.Let them whisper.No flashy bags. No screaming logos. No selfies with cards or cups.Just quiet steps and whispered doom.This wasn’t about showing off.It was about making them sweat.One by one, the McLarens will be crumbling. Elias tried to kill me and failed. The Raven Anders
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