REVENGE, DIAPER and SNACKS - Chapter 58: Chapter 58

He clenched the note in his fist, crushed it with all the restraint of a man teetering on the edge of madness. His jaw twitched. His blood boiled. His reflection in the glass showed a man haunted—not just by a ghost, but by a woman who wore the ghost like perfume.
Catherine.
Sweet. Smart. Chaotic. Cunning.
Her voice haunted him. Her rejection echoed louder than his own heartbeat.
She didn’t want his coffee. She didn’t want him.
She didn’t even look impressed with the way his coat swayed in the wind like a K-drama villain.
She smiled and laughed like she was untouchable. Like he was the joke.
Worse—she was playing him. Just like Leon.
And so, Alec plotted. With every passing day, he found himself slipping deeper into his own rage, concocting plans to kill him again and again and claim the throne once again. His thoughts grew darker, fed by whispers from a malevolent force—an ancient god of war, murmuring promises of power and vengeance. His fury began to take on a life of its own, becoming something almost tangible, a sinister presence that fueled his growing obsession. The darkness in him laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the silence of the forest.
And he, Alec Darrow, was not a man who liked being played.
“MICK!” he roared, slamming his hand down on the desk so hard the vase shattered, the water staining his last remaining Leon photograph.
Mick entered quickly, chewing gum like this was just another Tuesday.
“Yes, boss?”
“Her apartment. Her sanctuary. Break it. I want it wrecked. No people. Just things. I want her to know I’ve been there.” He stood up slowly, voice low and venomous. “Make it look like chaos kissed her world.”
Mick blinked. “Like… petty vengeance?”
“Like message received.” Alec said, eyes gleaming. “She thinks this is a game. Let’s remind her who owns the board.”
Soon, it would be the bitch’s turn to suffer, to experience the wrath of the man she had tried to mould and control. He envisioned a future where Catherine lay broken, her little house crumbling as he ascended to the throne of winning this little game they play. He wanted more than just revenge; he wanted to watch as the very foundations of her power trembled and fell. The rage within him felt infinite, a vast, untamed force that would not be quelled until he held the title of a champion.
And when that day came, Alec knew he would feel nothing but satisfaction, for he had finally embraced the monster within again, just like what he did to Leon, his brother.
Later That Day
The sun had long since dipped behind a haze of gray. The streets were wet from a surprise drizzle, making everything glisten under the warm hue of streetlamps. My red boots echoed in the stairwell as I carried two bags—one full of discounted bath bombs, the other full of emergency chocolate and cereal. Jaya was now with Mylene for the night.
I unlocked the door, humming under her breath. Then I stepped inside.
Silence.
What the fuck?
My breath caught. The hallway was dark, too quiet. Something felt off. The scent of lavender cleaner was gone—replaced by cold, bitter air.
My boots crunched.
Glass. Chaos.
I froze.
My eyes scanned the living room.
Destruction.
A shiver ran down my spine. I wanted to look away, to shut it all out, but I couldn’t. I was trapped in this vision, forced to witness their exchange, to understand the depths of their madness and his twisted plans of being petty.
The couch cushions had been slashed. My photos torn, frames shattered, glass like snow across the floor. The new smart TV had been knocked over, my books dumped, spines twisted. The kitchen was worse. Every cupboard hung open. My plates were smashed. My favorite coffee mug—Catherine’s mug—lay cracked in two, like someone had stomped it in rage.
My heart thudded in my ears. I moved cautiously to the bedroom.
Even worse. My vanity mirror was broken, lipstick smeared across it in a crude X. My clothes were thrown everywhere, drawers gutted like a thief had been searching—except nothing was stolen. It was a storm made of spite. An attack made of hate and pittiness.
And on my pillow, carefully placed: A single shard of the mirror.
I stood still. No screams. No tears. Just a cold realization. “The bastard did this.”
My hands curled into fists. Alec had thrown a tantrum like a six-year-old with a God complex. Because I said no. Because I smiled in his face and fed him confusion with a croissant on the side.
“What a child,” I muttered, stepping over my broken lamp. I picked up the cracked photo of me and the kids at the park, gently brushing glass from it. My face in the photo smiled. Still whole.
I would not cry. Leon never cries.
Instead, I reached for my phone. Dialed a number.
“Hello?” Jhing-Jhing answered with her usual chaos in the background.
“He wrecked my place.”
“…is the washing machine okay?”
“Don’t joke. I’m serious. He destroyed everything. It’s like a rom-com met a horror movie.”
Then Mylene’s voice in the background: “Did he leave a note that said ‘Oops’?”
“No,” I said, voice steel. “But I’m gonna leave him a message next.”
I kicked over a fallen lamp with her foot. “Phase Seven has officially begun.”