บททั้งหมดของ Sweetest Revenge: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

There’s something about the end of the school day that feels like escape. The hum of chatter, lockers slamming shut, sneakers squeaking on the tile—it’s chaos, but it means freedom. Usually, I welcome it. Today, it feels like a trap.Because I can feel him watching me.All through last period, Jace sat two rows behind me, his stare burning a hole between my shoulder blades. I didn’t dare turn around, but I didn’t have to. I could sense it, the way you sense thunder in the air before it breaks.Now, as I pack my bag slower than I should, waiting for the crowd to thin, my skin prickles. Something tells me that if I walk out into the hallway right now, he’ll be there.And I’m right.The room empties out until it’s just me and the scrape of chairs against the floor. I sling my bag over my shoulder and take a deep breath, bracing myself. But before I can even move, the door clicks shut.I freeze.“Going somewhere?”His voice slides through the silence, low and sharp.Jace steps away from t

There are moments when masks slip, when people stop performing and the truth crawls out in all its ugly shapes. Most of the time, you miss them—people are too good at hiding. But sometimes, if you’re patient, if you’re lucky, you catch it.And tonight, I catch Jace Langston.It happens by accident. I’m not supposed to be anywhere near the Langston estate. But curiosity is a dangerous itch, and after days of staring at files and scraps of evidence that lead nowhere, I need more.So when I see his car parked by the east gates after school, engine running, and he disappears inside, I follow. Not close enough to be obvious—just enough to track the path, memorize the twists of the driveway, the towering hedges, the iron gates that look more like prison bars than decoration.I don’t know what I expected. Something cold and elegant, maybe. A mansion with spotless windows and silence heavy as gold.What I find instead is noise.The shouting starts before I even get close enough to the back ga

When I was little, Noah used to say chess was just life in disguise. He’d sit across from me at our kitchen table, the old wooden board between us, pieces nicked and worn from too many games, and he’d explain every move like it was scripture.“Checkers is fast,” he’d say, moving his knight with a flick of his hand. “But chess is patience. Strategy. You don’t win by charging forward. You win by waiting for your opponent to slip.”At ten, I didn’t get it. I hated waiting. I wanted to crush him, to leap across the board with my pawns and knock his king flat in three turns. And Noah would just laugh when I got reckless, sliding his queen out like a dagger and sweeping my pieces off the board.“You’ve got to think ahead, Ava,” he’d remind me, leaning back in his chair. “Always five moves ahead. That’s how you survive in this world.”Back then, I thought he was just being dramatic. Now, standing in the halls of Blackridge, his words feel less like advice and more like prophecy.Because here

The thing about secrets is, they rot if you leave them buried. And sometimes, the smell is strong enough to choke a whole town.That’s what I’m counting on when I press send.The email is short, anonymous, and laced with just enough proof to make a hungry reporter salivate. I know which journalist to pick—someone who’s been circling the Langstons for years, the kind of dog who doesn’t let go once he tastes blood.It’s late when I hit the button, my room dim except for the glow of my laptop. My pulse hammers as the whoosh of the email leaving seals my second strike.Strike one had been messy but effective, knocking the Langstons off balance. This one? It’s designed to cause an earthquake.I close the laptop and sit there, heart racing. Did I just cross a line? Probably. But I remind myself of Noah. Of the silence. Of the unanswered questions. If I don’t keep pushing, no one will.By morning, the world is already buzzing.It starts small—whispers in the hallway, phones lighting up with

Revenge was supposed to be simple. Cold. Clean. A straight line from the people who ruined my family to their downfall.It was never supposed to feel like this.I tell myself that as I walk down the hall after study hall, the sound of my own footsteps bouncing back at me. I tell myself I don’t care what Jace thinks of me, don’t care how he looks at me, don’t care about the cracks I’ve seen in him when no one else is watching.Lies. All of it.Because the second I hear his voice, low and sharp, echoing from behind me, my body reacts before my brain can catch up.“Sinclair.”I stop walking, my breath snagging in my throat. Slowly, I turn.He’s leaning against the lockers like the hallway was built just to hold him up, his arms crossed, that unreadable expression painted across his face. His tie is loose, his shirt collar undone. Careless, calculated—like he’s the storm and the eye of it at the same time.“What now?” I ask, aiming for bored but hitting shaky. “Want to accuse me of anothe