Page 2 of The Revenge Plan

When words like contentious, mean, and bitchy, are used to describe you, haters are inevitable. But I was done with them. New me wanted none of those words hanging around me. I had decided to become a better person, and I was going to do everything I could to accomplish it. But when I received a text from my brother asking, “Can you attend the next board meeting” I typed a simple, “No,” then thought better of it. I added a heart emoji. It was the best I could think of while trying to beat my morning run personal best.

Next thing I knew, my phone rang. I let it go to voice-mail. He called again. And again. Fucking hell. Can a girl get some morning time alone? On the fourth call Ipicked it up, “You need to be there H. Dad says so,” he said.

“Hello to you too.”

“I have no time for bullshit pleasantries. Come home now.”

Now?Now?I resumed my jog, picking up my pace, which gradually turned into a run. I could feel myself grow angrier and angrier by the minute. I didn’t have to do everything Dad says. “I’m no longer on the board. Sold my shares and everything. Don’t you remember?”

“Doesn’t matter. You need to be there, regardless. That’s what he said.”

“I don’t want to.”

“If you do, he’ll give you your inheritance back.”

I stopped dead in my tracks and looked around. I had passed my turn-around point and had been running down the street oblivious to everything around me.

“Mom’s inheritance?”

“Mom’s inheritance.”

“Liar.”

“You can ask him if you want to.”

This could change my life. I could finally be free. I could—Bryce loved playing pranks on me, “Are you serious?”

“All you need to do is to attend the meeting.”

“I’ll do it!”

“And uh, wear something nice. Like really nice.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know H. He wants you to look good. I gotta go.”

The line went dead; I put my phone back on my wrist and resumed my jog. I tried to contain my excitement. Knowing my father, it probably meant the offer came with strings attached, but still, it was something. I jogged with more fervor.

Someone, a man walking the opposite direction, spit onto my path after giving me a glare of death. I barely noticed it. I was too excited and it no longer bothered me as much as it used to. Being one of the most hated people in New York had its perks. One being people screaming insults at you when you make a public appearance, or paparazzi following your every move. Hate had simmered now that the scandal was dying down, but occasionally there would be one or two people who still loved to show me the extent of their hate.

Now that I was no longer being photographed every night dancing on a table in a bar, I was yesterday’s news. The paparazzi would have a field day if they saw me now. Getting back to my brunette hair and ditching the platinum blonde look that had been part of the brand made me barely recognizable.

I slowed down as I reached a corner to read the newspaper headlines on the newsstand that was there, “Lyndell troubles continue as the big man refuses to let go,” one business newspaper read. Another read, “Blood Emeralds: Conditions Akin To Slave Labor In Lyndell Mine.” I jogged a little faster, my face red. No wonder the man had spat on me.

???

“You lied to me.” I jabbed Bryce in the sternum. His attention was on his phone. He was furiously texting and his brows furrowed. He appeared as if he hadn’t heard me. I jabbed him again. Harder this time. He looked up, a little annoyed. I didn’t care. I was more annoyed than him.

“What the fuck? This isn’t a board meeting.” I looked around. Gesturing at the large glass table that was sticking out in the mid-century style library and the nine chairs surrounding it and pointing to my dad’s slimy cronies, “I don’t remember Jeff and Lenny being board members.”

He smirked, “Wow, I’m surprised you even know names considering your utter lack of care for the family business.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Why am I here?”

He was back to his phone, but he still responded, “Dad wanted you.”

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