All Chapters of The Billion-Dollar Payback Plan: She Woke Up Richer Than The: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Darren POVI was in my office, elbows on the glass desk, scrolling through next quarter’s investor reports when my phone rang.Jeremy.I frowned. My brother never called during work hours. He hated interruptions as much as I did. But the screen was flashing, and something in my gut twisted the moment I answered.“Darren,” he hissed. “It’s happening.”I sat up straight. “What?”“Someone dug it up. It’s online.”“What the hell are you talking about?” I stood, already pacing toward the tinted window overlooking the city.“The thing,” he said sharply. “The fight. That kid from high school. The one I—damn it, the one I hit when I was drunk. It’s everywhere.”My heart dropped.“What do you mean everywhere?”“There’s a Reddit thread. Two Facebook pages.

Krystal POVBack at the TK base, I was cross-legged on the floor, spicy ramen steaming beside me, a tray of mochi and matcha chocolates at arm’s reach. My version of dinner—and war fuel. The screens in front of me flickered with real-time updates, chat logs, and data dumps like digital confetti.“Tomas,” I called through a mouthful of noodles, “tell me you have something good.”Tomas didn’t disappoint.He leaned against the edge of the table, a tablet in hand. “We’ve cracked into a few old school records, private legal files, and some encrypted alumni message boards. It's deeper than just Darren and Jeremy now.”“Go on,” I said, slurping loudly. My mouth burned from the heat, but it was oddly satisfying—just like what I was about to do.“We’ve confirmed that Jeremy’s name was scrubbed from two other assault cases during college. Different schools. Different victims. Money changed hands every time.”“Disgusting,” I muttered. “And Darren?”“Still trying to bury the rooftop case, but the

Krystal Hunter – POVI stared at Tomas’s text a moment longer, letting the words sink in like the first bite of a perfectly cold pistachio scoop. Friday. Paperwork ready. He’ll sign without knowing.Perfect.TK Base was its usual mix of low chatter and the clink of cutlery against ceramic — white noise for plotting. I’d tucked myself into the booth farthest from the door, the one half-shadowed by the hanging fern. From here, you could see the whole place without anyone noticing you were watching.Tomas arrived exactly on time, slipping into the seat across from me like a shadow in human form. No loud greeting, no fuss. Just a faint nod and that usual calm expression that told me he’d been four steps ahead before he even walked in.“You look smug,” he said.I spooned another bite of ice cream, letting the dark chocolate drizzle coat my tongue before answering. “I just spent the afternoon letting Darren Johnson think he’d trapped me in a corner. I’d say that’s worth a little smug.”His

Krystal POVThe next week was nothing but silence in Darren Johnson’s office.But silence didn’t mean peace. It meant implosion.And the man who once sat so high on his leather chair, with his polished shoes and untouchable smirk, had no idea his carefully constructed tower was collapsing brick by brick.He thought he was the one playing chess. He didn’t realize I’d already moved his king into checkmate.Darren’s mother had died three days ago. A quiet, pitiful funeral—barely a dozen attendees, mostly relatives who were there only for the gossip. No wreaths from powerful clients. No colleagues from his old firm. Even the priest rushed through the prayers. Darren stood there hollow-eyed, trying to hold his younger brother together… except his younger brother didn’t last.The shame of being exposed online, the bullying, the endless stream of “Johnson the Fraud” hashtags—he couldn’t take it. And one night, the man who once clung to Darren as his only role model… ended it.Darren had to b

Darren POVThe storm outside hadn’t let up. Rain hammered the wide glass windows of the restaurant, streaking the city in silver lines, turning headlights into halos in the darkness. Inside, the warmth of golden lamps and the quiet hum of jazz only made the divide sharper—out there was the drowning city, in here was the illusion of control.And across from me sat Krystal.Her dress was black silk, simple but devastating, clinging in places that made my throat tighten. A slash of red on her lips. Diamonds, but small ones—strategic, subtle, as if she didn’t need to prove wealth when her very presence screamed it.The waiter returned with dinner—roasted duck glazed with honey and citrus, seared scallops with saffron, a side of wild truffle risotto. Dishes I couldn’t even pronounce, let alone afford.She carved her duck delicately, her fingers precise, her nails painted a dark, expensive shade of wine that matched her lips. I couldn’t stop watching her hands, the easy confidence in every m