BRUSHSTROKES OF REVENGE

I’ve always believed that some people are born with hearts too good for this world. Mindy Hawthorne—no, Mindy Wilson now—is one of them. Sitting across from her in that café earlier, watching her laugh again after years of silence, I realized just how much I’d missed that sound. It wasn’t the polite, careful laugh she used to give when she was trying to keep the peace. It was real—loud, unrestrained, and alive. For the first time in years, she looked like herself again. And I swear, if anyone tries to take that away from her this time, I’ll burn the world down before I let it happen.

Mindy has always been my best friend, my sister in everything but blood. Those Hawthorne jerks never understood what a treasure they had. They treated her like she was disposable, like she was some fragile ornament they could break and replace. But I know better. I’ve seen her strength, her kindness, her quiet brilliance. I’ve seen her fight for people who didn’t deserve her loyalty. And I’ve seen her lose everything because of it. So yes, I’m biased. Mindy Wilson is my favorite person in the world, and I’d do anything for her.

Maybe that’s because I know what it’s like to lose everything too.

My father, Andrew Bose, is the president of Bose Media—the biggest media company in Greendale. To the world, he’s a legend. To me, he’s the only parent who ever truly loved me. My mother, Simon Bose, was born Simon Lee, the eldest daughter of Troy Lee, who owned a small textile company in Cracros City. My parents met in high school. My father was the golden boy—the quarterback, the top student, the one everyone admired. My mother was the quiet queen, beautiful and graceful, the kind of girl who made people lower their voices when she walked by. They were high school sweethearts, the perfect couple everyone envied.

When my father became the vice president of Bose Media, he married her. For sixteen years, they lived what looked like a perfect life. I grew up believing in that perfection. I thought love was simple, that my parents were proof that fairy tales could exist in real life. I was wrong.

I was thirteen when the illusion shattered. I still remember the shouting that night—the sound of my father’s voice breaking, my mother’s desperate pleas, the crash of something fragile hitting the floor. I remember standing in the hallway, frozen, listening to words that didn’t make sense. Affair. Betrayal. Lies.

My mother had been having an affair for years. His name was Rhodey. He’d gone to the same high school as my parents. Back then, he was the troublemaker—the son of a small-time gangster, the kind of boy everyone warned their daughters about. My mother knew exactly who he was, and she loved him anyway. She never stopped.

When I was ten, my mother brought home a boy named Sam. She said he was an orphan, that we were adopting him because he needed a family. I believed her. I was excited to have a little brother. But from the moment he arrived, something felt wrong. My mother adored him. She gave him everything—her time, her affection, her attention. I tried to be happy for him, but I couldn’t ignore the way she looked at him, the way she never looked at me.

It wasn’t until years later that I learned the truth. Sam wasn’t an orphan. He was Rhodey’s son—with another woman. My mother had brought him into our home, raised him as her own, and given him the love she never gave me. She had married my father for his money, but her heart had always belonged to someone else. Every month, she secretly transferred money to Rhodey. She was funding his life, supporting his child, while pretending to be the perfect wife and mother.

My father found out by accident. He saw a message on her phone—something small, something that didn’t make sense. But my father is a journalist at heart. He investigates everything. He dug deeper, and what he found destroyed him.

He didn’t tell me right away. He tried to protect me, to keep the truth hidden. But secrets have a way of surfacing, and ours exploded on my thirteenth birthday.

My father had planned a grand celebration. He invited everyone—family, friends, business partners. The house was filled with laughter and music. I remember wearing a pale blue dress my mother had chosen for me. I remember thinking that maybe, just maybe, things were getting better.

Then Rhodey showed up.

He wasn’t invited. He walked in like he owned the place, a cruel smile on his face, and before anyone could stop him, he told everyone the truth. He told them about the affair, about the money, about Sam. He told them that my mother had never loved my father, that she had been in love with him all along.

And my mother—my beautiful, graceful mother—didn’t deny it. She stood there, silent, her eyes full of tears, and when my father demanded to know if it was true, she said yes. Then she turned to Rhodey.

And she took his side.

I can still see my father’s face in that moment. The disbelief. The heartbreak. The humiliation. The man who had built an empire, who had given her everything, was being torn apart in front of everyone he knew. And she didn’t even flinch.

That night, my father filed for divorce. He took me and left Cracros City behind. We moved to Greendale, hoping for a fresh start. But scandals like ours don’t fade easily. The story spread like wildfire. ”The Boss of Bose Media Betrayed by His Wife.” It was everywhere. My father became the news he used to report.

I thought things would get better once we moved. I thought I could start over. But the world has a cruel way of reminding you where you came from.

On my first day at my new school in Greendale, everything was quiet. I was the new girl, and people were polite enough to leave me alone. But by the second day, everything changed.

Sheila—Missy Hawthorne’s best friend—found out about my mother’s affair. I don’t know how. Maybe someone from Cracros City told her. Maybe she just liked digging up dirt. Either way, by lunchtime, everyone knew. Everywhere I went, people whispered. They laughed. They called me names.

I remember standing in the cafeteria, tray in hand, trying to find a place to sit. Missy and her friends were at their usual table, surrounded by people desperate to be part of their little kingdom. Sheila was talking loudly, making jokes about my mother, about Rhodey, about Sam. Every word felt like a knife.

And then I saw her.

Mindy Hawthorne.

She was sitting alone at a table across from them, quietly eating her lunch. She didn’t look up, didn’t say a word. For a moment, I thought she was ignoring them like everyone else. But then she stood up.

She walked straight to their table, calm and composed, and when she spoke, her voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

”Sheila,” she said, ”you might want to stop talking before your boyfriend’s boss finds out he’s been sneaking you into the office after hours.”

The entire cafeteria went silent. Sheila’s face turned red.

Then Mindy turned to Missy. ”And you,” she said, ”you might want to stop crying about other people’s lives when you can’t even look in the mirror without bursting into tears. It’s exhausting watching you pretend to be perfect.”

The other girls tried to laugh it off, but Mindy wasn’t finished. She looked at each of them in turn, her expression calm but merciless. ”You all act like you’re better than everyone else, but the truth is, you’re just scared. Scared that one day, someone will see you for what you really are—pathetic.”

And then she walked away.

I was standing behind a pillar, frozen. No one knew I was there. I had heard every word. I had seen the way she stood up for me, even though she didn’t know me. Even though she had nothing to gain.

That was the moment I decided she would be my friend.

I took my lunch and sat with her. She looked surprised at first, then smiled. It was a small smile, but it was enough. We talked about nothing important—classes, teachers, the terrible cafeteria food—but something clicked between us. I knew she would get in trouble for what she said. Missy loved to make scenes, and she always ran home to her family to complain. But Mindy didn’t care. She had defended me anyway.

That’s who she is. Kind. Gentle. Brave.

From that day on, we were inseparable. She became my family. My father adored her. He used to say she reminded him of me—stubborn, loyal, and too smart for her own good. He was right.

When she married Layton Knight, I was worried. I knew his type. Cold. Controlled. The kind of man who measured affection in percentages and saw love as a transaction. I told her he wasn’t good for her, but she smiled and said she could handle it. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that maybe he would see what I saw in her. But he didn’t.

He treated her like a convenience, like a piece of furniture that looked nice in his perfect life. And she stayed, because that’s what Mindy does. She stays. She gives. She forgives. Even when she shouldn’t.

Watching her fade during those years was torture. The light in her eyes dimmed, her laughter disappeared, and every time I saw her, she looked smaller, quieter, like she was trying to take up less space in the world. I hated him for that. I hated all of them—the Hawthornes, the Knights, everyone who made her feel like she wasn’t enough.

But now? Now she’s back.

When she told me she signed the divorce papers, I wanted to throw a party. When she told Layton to ”stop barking like a dog,” I nearly fell off my chair laughing. That’s the Mindy I know. The one who doesn’t take anyone’s nonsense. The one who can slice someone apart with a single sentence and still look like an angel while doing it.

She’s finally free, and I couldn’t be prouder.

Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something bigger is coming. I saw the look in her eyes when she talked about taking everything back—her mother’s gallery, her designs, her name. There was a fire there I hadn’t seen in years. It scared me a little, but it also thrilled me. Because if anyone deserves to rise from the ashes, it’s her.

And I’ll be right beside her when she does.

People think I’m dramatic when I say I’d do anything for Mindy. They don’t understand. She’s the only person who ever stood up for me when no one else would. She’s the only person who saw me, not the scandal attached to my name. She’s the reason I learned to fight back.

I owe her everything.

So when I see her now—stronger, sharper, ready to reclaim her life—I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. Hope.

I know she’s planning something. I can see it in the way she moves, the way she talks, the way her eyes glint when she mentions the Hawthornes. She’s not just surviving anymore. She’s preparing. And whatever she’s planning, I’ll help her.

Because this time, I’m not letting her fight alone.

I’ve seen what happens when good people stand by and do nothing. I watched my father’s heart break because he trusted the wrong person. I watched my mother destroy our family for a man who didn’t deserve her loyalty. I watched Mindy lose everything because she believed love could fix people who didn’t want to be fixed.

Not again.

This time, I’ll protect her the way she once protected me.

If the Hawthornes try to hurt her again, I’ll expose every dirty secret they’ve ever buried. If Layton Knight thinks he can control her, I’ll make sure his empire crumbles before he even realizes what’s happening. And if anyone dares to call her weak, I’ll remind them exactly who they’re dealing with.

Mindy Wilson isn’t weak. She’s a storm waiting to happen.

And I, Ana Bose, am her lightning.

Together, we’ll make sure the world remembers the names they tried to erase.

Because this time, the treasure they never deserved is taking back everything that was stolen.

And I’ll be damned if I let anyone stand in her way.