BRUSHSTROKES OF REVENGE

Twenty minutes later, a new post appeared online.

Missy Hawthorne Official Statement

”I sincerely apologize to Miss Mindy Wilson, the Bright Design Competition, and everyone who supported me. I made a terrible mistake. At that time, I only wanted to help Rona Design, the company built by Aunt Maria. I acted impulsively without thinking about the consequences. I deeply regret my actions and accept every punishment given to me. I hope everyone can forgive me.”

The comments exploded instantly.

Some fans wrote:

”She admitted her mistake. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

”She only wanted to help Rona Design.”

”She’s actually kind.”

But others weren’t convinced.

”Help? By stealing?”

”Nice PR apology.”

”Try harder.”

”Justice for Mindy.”

Her socialite friends—Zara, Rain, Hannah, Sheila—immediately liked the post and commented their support.

Inside the company car, Raymond’s phone vibrated. Drake’s did too. They both read the statement in silence.

After a long moment, Raymond exhaled. ”...Good,” he said quietly. ”At least she listened.”

Drake nodded. ”This should calm public opinion.”

Neither of them noticed the subtle shift in wording—the way the apology framed Missy’s theft as an act of misguided loyalty rather than deceit.

Raymond leaned back in his seat, exhaustion settling over him like a heavy cloak. He stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past.

He remembered the day of the accident. The phone call. The sound of shattering glass. The way his knees had given out when he heard Maria’s name. There had been no warning, no time to prepare, no chance to say goodbye.

He had gone to the crash site himself. The twisted metal. The smell of gasoline. The silence.

He had stood there for hours, unable to move, unable to believe that the woman who had once filled his world with color was gone.

And when Emily appeared days later, offering comfort, he hadn’t questioned it. He had been drowning, and she had offered him air.

He hadn’t realized that the air was poison.

He closed his eyes, pressing his fingers against his temple. ”Maria,” he whispered under his breath, ”I failed you.”

Drake glanced at him but said nothing.

Raymond’s voice was barely audible. ”I failed her too.”

The mansion was quiet again. The echo of the front door closing had faded into stillness.

Emily and Missy sat together in the living room, the glow of the chandelier casting long shadows across the marble floor.

For a long time, neither spoke.

Then Missy’s trembling stopped. Her tears dried. Her expression changed.

The softness vanished.

Her eyes hardened, sharp and cold.

”Mom,” she said quietly, ”I can’t believe this happened.”

Emily looked at her daughter carefully. ”You need to calm down. We’ll fix it.”

Missy’s voice rose, trembling with fury. ”Fix it? How? She humiliated me in front of everyone! She destroyed everything I worked for!”

Emily reached out, but Missy pulled away.

Her voice cracked, but not from sadness—from rage. ”I planned everything perfectly,” she hissed. ”I used that design six months ago so she’d react the same way! I wanted everyone to see her lose control again, to see how jealous she was!”

Missy’s hands clenched into fists. ”I wanted her to look like the thief! Like the liar! She was supposed to be the one everyone hated!”

Her voice broke into a bitter laugh. ”How was I supposed to know she’d have proof? How was I supposed to know she and Maria used to record themselves?”

Emily’s eyes widened. ”You set a trap,” she whispered. ”And it backfired.” She continued, ”I told you to be careful.”

Missy’s breathing quickened. ”She was supposed to be the thief, not me! She was supposed to be ruined!”

Her voice trembled with disbelief. ”I did everything right. I made sure the design looked like hers. I made sure everyone remembered how she reacted last time. I made sure Dad would believe me.”

Emily’s lips parted, but no words came.

Missy’s voice softened suddenly, almost childlike. ”I just wanted her gone, Mom. She always took everything. Dad’s attention. The company’s praise. Even the sympathy after Maria died. Everyone loved her. No one ever looked at me.”

Emily’s heart twisted. She reached out gently. ”You’re my daughter,” she said softly. ”We’ll fix this. We’ll make them see you’re the victim.”

Missy’s eyes glistened, but the tears were gone. What replaced them was something far more dangerous—resolve.

”She thinks she’s won,” Missy whispered. ”But this isn’t over.”

Emily stroked her hair, her voice low. ”Then we’ll make sure it isn’t.”

The two women sat together in silence, their reflections flickering in the glass table between them.

Outside, the night deepened.

Inside, the darkness grew thicker.

Across the city, laughter filled a private dining room at Greendale’s most luxurious restaurant.

The table was overflowing with food—steak, pasta, seafood, desserts. The air was warm, alive, filled with the sound of clinking glasses and easy conversation.

Ana was already on her third dessert. Wade had long since given up trying to stop her. Layla was laughing so hard she nearly spilled her drink. Mindy sat among them, smiling quietly, her eyes soft with contentment.

For the first time in years, she looked at peace.

Ana’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen. ”Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow. ”It’s the Fake White Lotus.”

Everyone leaned closer. They read Missy’s apology together.

Silence.

Then Ana burst out laughing. ”Oh my God! She deserves an acting award!”

Layla laughed until tears filled her eyes. ”Read the comments!”

Ana scrolled, her grin widening. ”Oh... I have an idea.”

Her fingers flew across the screen. Within seconds, she hit post.

”Translation,” she wrote, ”Sorry everyone... I accidentally stole, accidentally lied, accidentally cried, accidentally blamed the victim, and accidentally became the main character. Please accidentally forgive me.”

For three seconds, no one spoke.

Then Wade laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair. Layla slammed the table, gasping for breath. Mindy covered her face, shaking her head.

”Ana,” she said between laughs, ”you really have no mercy.”

Ana flipped her hair proudly. ”I learned from the best.”

”Who?”

She pointed dramatically. ”Our Queen.”

The room erupted into laughter again.

Mindy smiled, her heart light. For the first time in a long time, she felt surrounded by people who saw her—not as a burden, not as a scapegoat, but as family.

In another private room, separated by a single wall, Layton Knight sat at a table with Draven and Mike.

Only Mike and Draven were eating. Layton hadn’t touched his food. His gaze was fixed through the glass partition, on the table across the room.

On Mindy.

She was laughing, her eyes bright, her smile unguarded. Wade leaned over to refill her drink. Ana teased her about something, and Layla nearly fell off her chair laughing.

She looked happy.

Genuinely happy.

Happier than she had ever looked during their marriage.

Draven set down his fork quietly. ”You should let her go,” he said.

Layton didn’t respond.

Draven continued, his tone gentle but firm. ”She doesn’t look at you anymore. She doesn’t wait for you. She doesn’t chase you. She doesn’t even get jealous. The only emotion she has left for you... is annoyance.”

Mike nodded silently, still chewing.

Draven sighed. ”You had something precious. You just never noticed. And now, someone else became her family.”

Layton’s jaw tightened. His eyes never left Mindy.

He remembered the nights she had waited for him to come home, the dinners that had gone cold, the quiet way she had stopped asking where he’d been. He remembered the day she walked out, her eyes dry, her voice calm.

He had thought she would come back.

She always had before.

But this time, she hadn’t.

After a long silence, he finally spoke. His voice was low, cold, resolute. ”I will never divorce her.”

Draven frowned. ”Layton—”

Layton’s gaze remained fixed on Mindy. ”There is no divorce in my life.”

Mike nearly choked on his water. ”President Knight,” he muttered, ”you really chose the hardest possible difficulty level.”

Draven sighed, shaking his head.

Across the restaurant, Mindy laughed freely, unaware of the eyes watching her.

Unaware that the man she once loved had finally realized he could not let her go.

And somewhere, in the quiet of his car, Raymond Hawthorne sat alone, staring at the city lights, wondering when exactly the cracks in his perfect family had begun to form—and whether there was anything left worth saving.

The night stretched on, heavy with regret and revelation.

For the first time in years, Raymond felt the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

He had built his life on the illusion of control.

Now, all he could see were the fractures spreading through everything he had tried to hold together.

The first crack had appeared.

And deep down, he knew—

It would not be the last.