My Ultimate Revenge
“Aria’s father taught her more than how to give speeches and smile for headlines. He taught her to survive.”
The sound of shifting fabric. A hand emerged from the dark, pale fingers holding a small USB stick between them—silver, unmarked.
“This,” the figure said, placing it gently on the armrest beside her, “goes out tonight. Every contact, every outlet we control. By morning, Aria Grant becomes a name no one wants to touch.”
Regina hesitated, her fingers hovering over the USB. “And if it doesn’t stick?” she asked.
A pause.
“Then we take the gloves off.”
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