บททั้งหมดของ The Perfect Revenge : บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

SkylaThe red light blinked like a heartbeat.One pulse. Two. Three.The world was waiting. Waiting to hear whatever it was that I had to sayI drew in a breath that felt like fire in my lungs and let the silence stretch. Taylor gave me the tiniest nod from behind the camera. Ed stood rigid in the corner, arms folded, glaring at the floor as though he could crush Carl with his fists alone. Xavier didn’t move at all. Only his eyes betrayed him—storm-dark, unblinking, fixed on me.And then I spoke. One word at a time, ignoring the almost deafening sound of blood gushing into my ear.“My name is Skyla Leon Jefferson.”I let it linger. The syllables felt strange, raw, and yet more mine than anything had ever been.“Carl Anderson says I am his property. He says I volunteered to be experimented on. That I wanted this.” “And that’s so mot true. How could i be a willing volunteer for a system that has continued to fail my family for years? A project that has taken more away from me th

SkylaThe safe house felt different after the broadcast.Like the air itself was heavier. Like every shadow carried Carl’s name.I paced the narrow hallway, arms folded tight. My skin buzzed with adrenaline I couldn’t shake, as if the words I’d spoken to the world were still echoing through me. For the first time, I had no regrets—but fear… fear was a stubborn companion.When I pushed open the door to the main room, Xavier was already there, leaning against the edge of the table. The boardroom fire still clung to him—jaw sharp, shoulders stiff, the storm in his eyes even after hours still refused to settle.“You really did it,” I said, my voice sharper than intended.His gaze snapped to me. “So did you.”We stared at each other like strangers who had just survived the same battlefield.I broke the silence that seemed to have us in a chokehold first. “You took Carl’s chair. You called him out in front of his employees. I guess It’s about time.”His mouth curved, but it wasn’t

SkylaThe safe house felt like a coffin. Too small, too dark, too silent. The kind of silence that didn’t comfort—it suffocated.But it wasn’t silent in my head.Every breath replayed Ed’s screams, his bloodied face on that screen, Carl’s fist cracking against his jaw, the whip slicing across his skin. My cousin’s broken voice, still spitting defiance through the blood: “Don’t give him anything, Sky!”That voice was worse than the blows. He was protecting me even then. He was always protecting me.I paced until my legs ached until my chest burned until Xavier finally told me to sit down before I wore a hole in the floor.“I can’t sit down,” I snapped. “He’s tied to a chair somewhere, bleeding, while we’re just here— doing what? Drinking coffee? Talking?”Taylor looked up from her laptop, eyes rimmed red from exhaustion. “Not talking,” she murmured beneath her breath “Working.”Her screen was a blur of code and shifting coordinates. “Carl thought he was clever—routing through relays,

XavierThe safe house was thick with blood and silence.Ed lay stretched out on the cot, pale beneath the flickering light, his chest rising too shallow, too weak. Skyla hovered at his side, fingers gripping his hand like she could anchor him back from the edge. Her cousin. Her family. She was breaking inside, though she tried to hide it.And me? I couldn’t breathe.Not because of Ed. Because of what Carl had said.He’d looked right at the camera, right at me, while Skyla fought for her cousin’s life. His voice had been calm, almost tender, as if he’d been saving the words for this exact moment.“Your mother begged, Xavier. Did you know that? She begged me to spare you. She was still warm when I told her the truth—that her son had already signed me his soul in exchange for power. That you were mine long before the knife touched her throat.”The words wouldn’t leave me. They tore through me again and again.I stumbled into the back room, fists pounding against the wall, needing th

SkylaThe safe house was rubble.Smoke still curled from the broken walls, and the air stank of gunpowder and blood, but for the first time in months, there was silence. Real silence.Carl was gone. His screams had faded into the night with the fury of the survivors, and when they stepped back, there was nothing left but a body broken beyond recognition.It should have felt like victory.Instead, I sat on the cold floor, my hands still shaking, my cousin still unconscious beside me, and wondered why my chest felt so empty.Xavier crouched nearby, his gun hanging loosely from his hand. He hadn’t spoken since lowering it, hadn’t looked me in the eye. His face was unreadable, but I knew that silence wasn’t peace—it was grief. Guilt.Charlie stood near the doorway, his shirt torn, his face streaked with ash. Steph lingered behind him, uncertain, like she belonged but didn’t. The distance between them was louder than words. Taylor was hunched over what was left of her laptop, trying