Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Perfect Revenge : Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

SkylaI was going to meet with the Mayor today, he had suggested we meet at a quiet botanical conservatory on the edge of the city - a strange place for political secrets, but maybe that was the point.No cameras. No microphones. Just air that smelled like damp earth and regret. Dandelions grew wild along the outer edges of the path. Not the part of the curated display - just stubborn things that refused to be removed. I liked them regardless, it reminded me of myself. "Late as always," I quipped when he finally made his grand entrance. "Still wearing that mask of yours uncle?" He just let out a tired smile, the skin under his eyes creasing. "I could say the same about you niece. Or isn't that why we're here." I ignored his question, allowing a sudden silence to take over the space between us. Charlie was already waiting near the back , pacing beside a lady I didn't recognise - a dark blue hoodie, red Doc Martens, silver ring pierced through one brow. She was younger than i expect

SKYLA Some truths came quietly.While some made you claw through the dark, leaving blood stains underneath your finger.I found my own truth tucked in the archives of the Andersons empire. It was locked away, far from sight, far from touch. The truth no one talked about – the one built into the old sub – levels beneath the buildings foundation. Charlie’s clearance got me through the door. A stolen ID badge did the rest, helped open the door to my stolen childhood.I came searching for the truth for documentation – anything that could trace Tanya’s lies and deception back to Carl’s manipulation. But what I found instead was way worse.There were several files buried under misnamed folders; “Paediatrics grant trials _ phase 12.” But when I opened it, the first photo didn’t show a child. It showed a lab made of steel, several restraints, and a crib lined with sensors.I kept on turning pages, reading each page word for word, page by page, till the severity of Carl’s manipulation

XAVIERI never knew pain looked and felt so quiet.Skyla laid limp beneath the hospital light, her once vibrant dark chestnut skin tone dulled against the white sheet of the hospital bed. Machines hummed around her like some cruel sympathy of delay.Her body that was usually filled with life and furious was still, her coffee brown curls spilled like ink across the pillow.Her hands, always quick to rise in defiance, now laid limp in mine. The doctors said she had fought, that she had screamed, and also tried to run.There were visible bruise marks on her wrists – defensive wounds.They said she was found unconscious on the rooftop of Carl’s private tower. According to sources, somewhat had cut the power supply right when she fell.They couldn’t tell if she was pushed, or she had missed a step. But her screams were loud enough that it cut through the still night. But I didn’t need them to know. I already knew it was the monster I was privileged to address as dad. It just had t

SKYLA The whole world was in a frenzy. It felt like their was a certain sensation buzzing through every social media and every news outlet.What started as a whisper at first blew into ridiculous headlines, now painting me as the bad guy. Headlines like. “Whistle-blower or wannabe”“Skyla Leon Jefferson: A past painted in scandal.”“Former juvenile inmate now claims corporate conspiracy?”Every screen I passed in Manhattan showed my face – my mugshot from when I was barely sixteen, grainy and tired – eyed, plastered beneath mocking voiceovers that twisted the truth until it suited their ideals – twisted it until it became something venomous.By noon, they had dug everything up.My juvenile detention record. An accident that happened at the group home, an accident I never knew I committed until the authorities had come the next way and dragged me away, tagging me as a threat to others. All because I had stood up to a bully. All because I could no longer take their trash talks

SKYLA. The day should have ended after the press conference. I should’ve peeled off my false eyelash and probably poured myself a drink while I was at it, and practically pretended that the kiss hadn’t left me shaking.Instead, I was standing in the elevator beside a silent Charlie, watching the numbers descend gradually towards ground zero.He kept on checking his phone, not the casual kind of checking. The kind of check one does when they’re waiting for the bomb to drop.And his agitation was already rubbing off on me.“You’re tense?” I asked when I couldn’t take it anymore. Charlie gave me a tight smile, one that looked more like a grimace than a smile. “PR is always tense.”But his knuckles were white around his phone. A sign that he was clenching that device a little more harder than he should have. My heart went out to the phone.When we reached the executive floor, the metal doors slid open into the heart of the chaos. Two armed officers in drak jackets were speaking