REVENGE, DIAPER and SNACKS - Chapter 56: Chapter 56

We brainstorm like our lives depended on it while the café was the kind of place where the air itself felt overpriced. Everything smelled like roasted ambition and lavender sanitizer. Light jazz oozed from invisible speakers, barely audible over the gentle clack of a thousand MacBooks. Patrons lounged like caffeinated royalty—graphic designers in beanies pretending to work on indie games, law students with five empty espresso shots lined up like trophies, and influencer moms staging a photo shoot with their baby’s half-eaten croissant. One woman was definitely in a Zoom meeting with a judge. Another man next to the fake plant was probably writing a manifesto. It was the kind of joint where people judged you not by your drink, but by your laptop sticker aesthetic and your ability to pronounce “cortado” without blinking.
“Today is Stage Five,” I said, raising my cup like a toast to war. The plan was in motion, the trap set. While I was basking in my internal villain monologue, Jaya tugged on my shirt and, with wide hopeful eyes, asked if she could breastfeed again—for comfort, she claimed. I declined with grace and maternal exhaustion, handing her an overpriced cookie the size of a full moon instead. It was so large, NASA probably charged royalties.
Naturally, she screamed two seconds later after spilling cocoa on her glittery left shoe like her life was over. Not to be outdone, Ivy—sweet chaos incarnate—somehow managed to drop not one, not two, but three fluffy marshmallows into the open tote bag of the woman behind us. The woman didn’t even flinch. She didn’t even look. This was the kind of café where if a child set fire to a croissant, someone would just raise their eyebrow and say, “How postmodern.”
That’s when I felt it.
That shift in the air.
The way static prickled my skin. Like I was being watched by a very specific ghost.
Across the way, he stood.
Alec. My dear brother. The man who once wore my trust like a suit and then poisoned me with my own bloody spider.
His face was calm. Too calm. Calm like a lake before it drowns you.
I could practically smell his rage. The confusion. The rising tide of obsession rolling off him like cologne he stole from someone richer. He adjusted his coat slowly—too slowly—like a man preparing to commit arson but wanted to look good doing it.
Then, he walked over. Smooth. Controlled.
Like a shark who discovered hot yoga and had something to prove.
I braced.
Mylene lifted her coffee to her lips like it was a sniper rifle.
Jhing-Jhing casually slid her glitter lip gloss across the table like a rogue offering me a dagger made of glitter and pettiness.
He arrived, his shadow darkening our table like a cursed weather forecast.
“Catherine,” he said, voice smoother than the caramel drizzle on Ivy’s stolen cookie.
I looked up and blinked, all honey and saccharine sweetness.
“Alec. Didn’t see you there.” Lies. I saw you the second your expensive shoes crossed the tile like you owned the ground.
“Of course not,” he said coolly. “You’ve been… busy.”
Good. He noticed. You should. I’ve been driving you insane with a sugar-sweet vengeance.
“Croissants can be demanding,” I replied, biting into mine like it owed me rent.
He stared. Hard. Digging. Searching for cracks. Weakness. The ghost of Leon smirking behind my eyes dared him to find even a whisper.
But there was nothing.
I was Catherine. I am Catherine.
The rainbow cupcake mom. Alec waking nightmare in yoga pants.
The wild-card soon-to-be widow, because I swore, one more call from Stupid-Ray I might lose it.
And then—
“Mommy, are you gonna light another cigar at school tomorrow?” Jaya asked in a voice that carried across three tables and probably into Alec’s soul.
BOOM.
He flinched. Like I slapped him with my old assassin resume.
Alec blinked. Once. Twice. His soul left his body and probably ran down the street screaming.
I calmly handed Jaya another moon-cookie. “Shhh, baby. That was our secret.”
Alec exhaled like he’d just been shot with a memory.
“You’re… different,” he said, his voice husky with denial.
“Motherhood changes people, Alex,” I said, sipping my latte like it was blood from my enemies.
“Not this much.” His eyes begged to sit beside me, to pry, to seduce, to control.
But Jhing-Jhing moved first, sliding her oversized Brown Prada bag onto the empty seat like a barricade made of tax returns and sharp elbows. Her smile said ‘back off or I’ll rearrange your spine with my high heels.’
“Or maybe,” I said, meeting his cold gaze with something ancient and sharp, “you just never really knew me.”
He said nothing. He just stood there. Haunted. Hollowed out.
Absolutely feral inside.
The ghost of Leon grinned inside my chest.
And as Alec turned to walk away, retreating step by step like a general realizing his army was made of whipped cream and poor decisions, I smirked.
‘Phase Five’ almost complete.
Also, I really needed a refill. But first, revenge.
“He totally pooped his Armani boxers,” Mylene said, not even bothering to whisper. Her lips curled in smug satisfaction, one leg crossed over the other, her huge Gucci sunglasses reflecting the afternoon sun like some mafia heiress ready to order a hit with her next sip of oat milk latte.
“He’s gonna burn all his photos of Leon tonight,” Jhing-Jhing added between bites of almond tart, then—without pause—launched into an elaborate tale about how her new washing machine had a built-in voice assistant that told her she should consider having one more child to optimize laundry cycles. “She said it with concern, okay? Like a disappointed auntie! What kind of AI makes fertility suggestions?!”
I snorted into my coffee, but it came out more like a growl. My hand tightened around the croissant like it had personally offended me. I bit into it hard, feeling the golden flakes explode onto the tabletop like edible confetti.
“Good.”