BRUSHSTROKES OF REVENGE

The bedroom was quiet again, the kind of quiet that came after a storm. The city lights shimmered faintly through the glass, painting the walls in soft gold and silver. Mindy sat on the edge of the bed, her thoughts drifting between the past and the present. The memories she had just relived still pulsed behind her eyes—the stolen design, Missy’s crocodile tears, the staircase, the slap, the blood, and the way everyone had rushed to Missy’s side while she stood there bleeding and alone. Then came the hospital, the lies, the manipulation, and the carefully planted seeds that had led Layton to place divorce papers in front of her.

Now, everything made sense. Every piece fit together like a cruel puzzle she had been too naïve to solve before. Missy had never been smarter; she had simply been more shameless. She had won because no one wanted to believe Mindy. That realization should have hurt, but it didn’t—not the way it once would have. Perhaps death had dulled the sting of betrayal, or perhaps she had simply run out of tears.

Mindy lowered her gaze to the papers resting in her lap. The sight was almost surreal. In her previous life, these documents had reduced her to a sobbing mess. She remembered sitting in this very room until dawn, clutching the papers as if they were a death sentence, trying to think of ways to convince Layton to stay. She had convinced herself that if she explained properly, if she endured a little longer, if she loved him a little more, things would eventually get better. They never did.

The memory made her shake her head. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed—a small, self-deprecating sound that echoed softly through the room. It wasn’t the laughter of amusement but of realization, the kind that came when one finally saw how foolish they had been. For the first time since waking up, she felt lighter. Not happy, not yet, but lighter, as though a weight she had carried for years was finally beginning to slip from her shoulders.

Her gaze drifted toward the phone on the bedside table. One name immediately came to mind: Ana. A genuine smile tugged at her lips. There was only one person she wanted to talk to right now, only one person who had stood beside her no matter what happened, only one person who had never once believed Missy’s innocent act. Ana Bose—the loudest, most dramatic, most loyal friend anyone could ever have.

Without hesitation, Mindy picked up her phone and pressed call. The line connected after only two rings.

”Mindy Hawthorne,” Ana’s voice rang through the speaker, sharp and theatrical. ”Before you say anything, I’d like to inform you that I am deeply offended.”

Just hearing her voice made Mindy’s throat tighten, the words catching before they could form. Her chest constricted painfully, memories flooding back in a rush—Ana’s cheerful laughter, her fierce loyalty, the way she had always shown up without being asked. Ana, the best friend anyone could ask for. And Mindy had pushed her away.

She remembered it all now with brutal clarity. Ana had tried to reach out so many times—texts, calls, surprise visits to the penthouse. She had knocked on the door, left voicemails, sent care packages. She had refused to give up, even when Mindy had shut her out completely. And why? Because Mindy had wanted to be the perfect Mrs. Knight. Because she had convinced herself that isolating herself from everyone who loved her would somehow make Layton love her back.

It hadn’t.

Mindy’s hand trembled slightly as she gripped the phone. Her eyes stung, but she blinked the tears back, forcing herself to breathe. Ana didn’t know. She didn’t know about the kidnapping, the fall, the rebirth. She didn’t know that Mindy had died regretting every moment she had pushed her away.

But she was here now. And this time, Mindy wouldn’t make the same mistake.

She composed herself, swallowing hard, her voice steadier than she felt. ”Ana.”

Mindy’s lips curved. ”You answered in two rings.”

”Of course I did,” Ana replied, sounding scandalized. ”I answer because I’m a loyal friend. Unlike certain people who disappear for three days and leave eighty-six messages unread.”

Mindy blinked. ”Eighty-six?”

”Eighty-seven now,” Ana said flatly.

Mindy laughed, the sound bubbling up before she could stop it. Only Ana would count.

They had met during their first year of high school. Ana had transferred midway through the semester and, within thirty minutes, decided they were best friends. Mindy still remembered that day vividly—Ana had sat beside her at lunch without asking, stolen half her fries, and announced that she looked lonely. They had been inseparable ever since. No matter what happened, no matter how many people came and went, Ana remained.

”Ana,” Mindy said softly, her laughter fading.

Immediately, Ana’s tone shifted. Years of friendship had made her frighteningly observant. ”What happened?” she asked, her voice losing its usual playfulness.

Mindy stared at the divorce papers. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to begin. Then she decided honesty was easier. ”Layton asked for a divorce.”

There was silence—three full seconds of it. Then Ana exploded. ”ABOUT DAMN TIME.”

Mindy nearly choked. ”Ana!”

”What?” Ana demanded. ”I’ve been holding that in for two years. Do you know how difficult it’s been? I’ve spent two years pretending to be supportive while watching you chase a man who has all the emotional warmth of a frozen parking meter.”

Mindy blinked. ”A frozen parking meter?”

”It was the first thing that came to mind,” Ana said defensively. ”Cold, unresponsive, and only useful if you shove money into it.”

Mindy pressed a hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh. ”You’re ridiculous.”

”Thank you,” Ana said proudly.

”That wasn’t a compliment.”

”I choose to receive it as one.”

Mindy gave up trying to argue. The laughter came again, freer this time, spilling out of her like sunlight breaking through clouds. It felt strange, almost foreign, to laugh like that again.

On the other end of the line, Ana grew suspicious. ”You know what?” she said slowly. ”You sound weird.”

Mindy frowned. ”How?”

”Too calm,” Ana said. Then she gasped dramatically. ”Oh my God.”

”What now?”

”Did someone replace you with a clone?”

Mindy rolled her eyes. ”Ana.”

”I’m serious,” Ana insisted. ”You’re not crying.”

The words lingered between them. Mindy looked down at the papers again. In her previous life, she had cried enough tears to fill an ocean. Tonight, however, she felt strangely peaceful. ”No,” she said quietly. ”I’m not.”

Ana was silent for a moment, then sighed. ”Good.”

That single word carried more affection than an entire speech. Ana knew how much Mindy had loved Layton, how much this marriage had meant to her. If Mindy wasn’t crying, then something had finally changed.

Mindy stood and walked toward the window. The city stretched out before her, glittering beneath the night sky. For the first time, she wasn’t looking at it as Layton’s wife. She was looking at it as herself.

”Ana,” she said.

”Hm?”

”I need a favor.”

Ana groaned dramatically. ”Whenever you use that tone, rich people suffer.”

Mindy smiled faintly. ”They probably will.”

”Excellent,” Ana said cheerfully. ”Proceed.”

”I want a story published tomorrow.”

That got Ana’s attention. The daughter of the state’s largest media mogul immediately straightened. ”What kind of story?”

Mindy’s eyes narrowed slightly. The same cold determination that had been building all evening resurfaced. For years, she had remained silent. For years, she had allowed Missy to control the narrative. That ended tonight.

”I want everyone in the city to know that Layton Knight is divorcing his secret wife,” she said calmly.

Ana’s breathing stopped. ”You’re kidding.”

”I’m not.”

”And why, pray tell, is he divorcing his secret wife?”

Mindy’s voice was smooth, almost amused. ”Because of a mistress.”

There was a loud crash on the other end of the line.

”ANA?”

”I fell,” Ana groaned.

”What?”

”I fell off the chair.”

Mindy burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. ”You what?”

”I was not prepared for that level of drama!” Ana wailed. ”You can’t just drop ’mistress’ into a conversation like it’s a weather update!”

Mindy laughed harder. ”You’re the one who wanted rich people to suffer.”

”Yes, but I expected mild suffering,” Ana said indignantly. ”Like a scandal about overpriced handbags, not a full-blown soap opera!”

Mindy wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing. ”You’re impossible.”

”And you,” Ana said, regaining her composure, ”are terrifying. Who are you and what have you done with my sweet, apologetic friend who once said sorry to a waiter for spilling coffee on herself?”

”That happened once,” Mindy protested.

”It happened three times,” Ana corrected. ”I have witnesses.”

”You’re exaggerating.”

”I have photographic memory.”

Mindy shook her head, smiling. ”You’re insufferable.”

”And you love me for it.”

”I tolerate you.”

”Same thing.”

The laughter between them filled the room, warm and familiar. For the first time since waking up, Mindy felt something she hadn’t expected—hope. Not because of Layton, not because of revenge, but because no matter how terrible her previous life had been, she still had people who genuinely loved her. People who chose her. People who saw her.

Ana’s voice softened. ”So, what’s the plan, my newly resurrected queen of chaos?”

Mindy turned back toward the window, her reflection faint against the glass. ”Tomorrow morning, the city wakes up to a headline,” she said. ”Layton Knight’s secret marriage exposed. The CEO’s mistress revealed.”

Ana let out a low whistle. ”You’re going for blood.”

”Just truth,” Mindy replied. ”The truth they all ignored.”

Ana hummed thoughtfully. ”You know, I always said you’d make a terrifying villain if you ever stopped crying long enough.”

Mindy smirked. ”I’m not the villain.”

”Sweetheart,” Ana said, ”you’re the main character. The villain just doesn’t know it yet.”

Mindy laughed softly. ”You’re ridiculous.”

”And you’re glowing,” Ana said. ”I can hear it through the phone. You sound alive again.”

Mindy’s smile faded into something gentler. ”Maybe I am.”

There was a pause, the kind that only existed between people who didn’t need words to fill silence. Then Ana’s voice returned, lighter now. ”So, do I get to write the headline myself, or do you want to approve it first?”

”I trust your flair for drama,” Mindy said.

”Excellent,” Ana replied. ”I’m thinking something subtle, like ’Cold-Blooded CEO Dumps Wife for Sister’s Shadow.’”

Mindy snorted. ”Subtle?”

”Fine, fine,” Ana said. ”How about ’Knight in Shining Armani Turns Out to Be Tin Foil.’”

Mindy laughed again, shaking her head. ”You’re incorrigible.”

”I’m inspired,” Ana corrected. ”Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for you to stop being polite? I was starting to think I’d have to stage an intervention.”

”You already did,” Mindy reminded her. ”Twice.”

”Yes, but you cried both times,” Ana said. ”This time, you’re plotting. I’m so proud I could cry.”

”Please don’t,” Mindy said dryly. ”One of us has to maintain dignity.”

”Too late,” Ana said. ”I’m already lying on the floor surrounded by snack wrappers. Dignity left the building hours ago.”

Mindy smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. ”You haven’t changed at all.”

”And you finally have,” Ana said softly. ”About time.”

The words lingered, gentle but firm. Mindy didn’t respond right away. She didn’t need to. Ana had always known when to speak and when to let silence do the talking.

After a moment, Ana cleared her throat. ”So, tomorrow morning?”

”Tomorrow morning,” Mindy confirmed.

Ana’s grin was audible. ”Perfect. I’ll make sure the article drops right after breakfast. Nothing ruins a socialite’s day like scandal with her morning coffee.”

Mindy chuckled. ”You’re evil.”

”I prefer ’efficient.’”

They talked for another hour, drifting between laughter and strategy. Ana’s humor filled every corner of the room, chasing away the ghosts that had haunted Mindy for years. By the time they hung up, the night no longer felt suffocating.

Mindy set her phone down and looked out at the city again. The skyline glittered like a thousand tiny promises. For the first time in eight years, she wasn’t afraid of what tomorrow would bring.

She was ready for it.

”Tomorrow morning,” she whispered, her reflection smiling back at her. ”Let’s begin.”