All Chapters of The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The: Chapter 11 - Chapter 15

“Get me your biggest bags. I want shoes, boots, stilettos. Heels that make men cry. Dresses that scream elegance with a side of vengeance. Purses big enough to carry broken dreams. Jewelry that outshines betrayal. Oh—and a custom iPhone if you have it. The one with diamonds in the case. And throw in that limited-edition gold MacBook Pro. I need something to check my bank balance on—every five minutes.”Her mouth dropped open.Even Olga the Ice Queen looked over now. Eyes wide. Realizing, slowly, horrifyingly, that she had messed up the bag.I walked past her, giving her a brief look.“I would’ve asked you first. Shame.”And then?I unleashed.It was glorious. It was theatrical.I tried on everything. Walked the marble floor in 4 dime heels like I owned the air. I posed in mirror after mirror, letting the scent of designer leather and envy wrap around me like a second skin.By the time I was done?I had six boutique attendants running around with clipboards, calculators, and measuring

After the pastry crumbs were cleared and Elsa hugged me like I’d just paid off her reincarnation taxes, I took the next step in my grand comeback plan:Money moves.And not the shopping kind.I needed to be smart. Strategic. I needed to know how to make my fortune work for me.So, with Elsa’s recommendation and a borrowed umbrella (old habits die hard), I made my way to the Financial District of Manhattan—where the air smelled like espresso, anxiety, and stock market ambition.She didn’t ask too many questions when I mentioned “inheritance money.” I lied, of course, but in my defense, it wasn’t a full lie. I did technically inherit it… from my own resurrection and a little divine intervention.“Go see Henry Blakemore,” she had said. “British. Knows money like Gordon Ramsay knows swearing.”Sold.His office was in a high-rise tower with floor-to-ceiling glass and chairs too modern to be comfortable. The receptionist looked like she moonlighted as a Vogue cover model. I was shown in aft

Krystal’s POVThat night, I didn’t sleep.I laid there, sprawled across satin sheets in my tiny apartment that now felt like a royal war room, the soft hum of my brand-new MacBook Pro glowing in front of me like a portal to destiny. My fingers tapped slow, steady—each keystroke a promise.I wasn’t going to barge in screaming.No. Revenge isn’t supposed to be fast. It’s supposed to be slow. Patient. Exquisite. Like aging fine wine or simmering bone broth—it gets better the longer it cooks.I clicked open my browser. Search: IT experts. Underground. Manhattan. Hackers. Tracers. Social engineering. Cleaners.It was a rabbit hole of sketchy forums and digital shadows. Too obvious. Too risky. Then something clicked in my head, like fate tapping me on the shoulder with a manicured finger.Venice’s ex.Tomas De Nero.Mediocre face. Great at coding. Even better at being bitter.I remembered him. He was obsessed with Venice. Like, built-her-a-website-and-named-it-after-her-cat obsessed. Then s