REVENGE, DIAPER and SNACKS - Chapter 69: Chapter 69

The kids huddled together near the massive stone fireplace, wrapped in thick quilts that smelled like cedar and gun oil. I made a fire quickly— memory from darker years. The flames rose like guardians, painting their faces in flickering gold. Maya clutched her sister. Aliya sat with a quiet tear rolling down her cheek. MJ chewed on the corner of her blanket, too exhausted to cry anymore.
I moved fast. My body on autopilot, driven by something deep—a parent’s rage and a soldier’s calm.
I found the hidden latch near the back wall and pulled it. The groan of metal hinges echoed through the cabin as I lifted the trap door. The cold vault beneath yawned open—a forgotten bunker I built years ago, back when paranoia and dream coexisted like oil and water.
Down there was everything I never trusted banks to hold.
I descended into the earth. The concrete walls dripped with condensation, and the emergency lights flickered weakly, casting shadows that danced like old regrets. But the supplies were untouched.
First, I found the fridge the size of a car, buried under camouflage tarp. Powered by a separate generator. Inside—frozen meats, vegetables, cans of powdered milk, sealed meals from a private army surplus I used to own. Food for years.
The girls would not go hungry. Not tonight. Not ever.
I stocked a basket—chocolate bars, warm milk powder, dried fruits, and bread I’d baked and vacuum-sealed a years ago. Still good. Still soft.
Back upstairs, I boiled water over the fire, poured the milk, melted a bit of chocolate into it. I handed out mugs like it was a snowed-in Christmas.
Aliya blinked up at me. “Mommy… are we going home?”
I knelt beside her. “Soon, baby. When the storm’s done. For now, we’re safe. I promise.”
Her small fingers wrapped around my wrist. “Did you beat the bad guy until he screamed like a granny?”
I looked toward the back room. Where Alec lay tied to a post, unconscious. Muzzled. Bleeding.
I nodded. “Yeah. I beat him.”
When the kids finally began to fall asleep, curled together on thick fur rugs near the fire, I returned to the vault.
Behind a second hidden panel, I unlocked the safe.
It was still there.
The gold bars from Spain, stacked like bricks of justice, gleamed beneath the emergency lights. Even untouched, they shimmered with the kind of weight that didn’t just buy homes—it bought governments.
Alec, the idiot, never even realized. He stole my companies. My name. My face.
But not my legacy.
Beside the bars, a tupperware container full of diamonds. No case. No velvet. Just plastic and greed-proof locks.
All of it mine. All of it ours now.
Even without the empire, I was still a billionaire.
Still Catherine. Still Leon.
And still dangerous.
I sat down at the desk in the corner of the safe, a rusted chair I once used to draft emergency plans during war time. With the radio booster still working, I keyed in the code.
Static. Then a crackle.
“Joe,” I said.
“Boss?” His voice came in slightly distorted, but strong.
“Storm’s too heavy. No extraction tonight.”
“I know. Blizzards locked us down at the tree line.”
“There’s a bunker here. Enough food for months. We’re warm. Kids are safe.”
“What about Alec?”
“Still breathing. Still bleeding.”
Joe didn’t ask more. He never did.
“You want me and the boys to come up?” he asked. “We’ll bring coffee. Whiskey. Maybe play some cards.”
I smiled for the first time in what felt like years.
“Yeah. Bring the old pack. Cabin’s open.”
“Copy that.”
I returned upstairs and checked the bindings on Alec. He was half-conscious now, groaning behind the gag. His eyes opened and locked onto mine—filled with hate, with betrayal, with confusion.
“You never knew me,” I whispered. “You thought you were playing chess with Catherine. But you never saw the third player.”
I leaned close, my breath warm on his ear.
“You played with Leon. You died to Catherine. And now you rot beneath us both.”
He growled something behind the gag. I stood and walked away, toward the fire, toward the sleeping children.
Outside, the storm howled harder. But inside, we were warm. Safe. Ready.
And tomorrow… when the sun rose and the winds died—
I would decide if Alec ever saw the sky again.
Two days later, the storm finally broke.
The snow melted slowly, like grief retreating. The thick drifts along the mountain pass thinned under sunlight that fought to warm the bones of the earth. Wind no longer howled like a grieving widow—it sighed, tired.
I loaded the kids into the backseat of the SUV.
Aliya was holding MJ’s hand. Maya, ever the big sister now, wrapped Ivy’s arms protectively around Jhing Jhing’s precious daughter, who refused to let go of her unicorn. They were quiet—too quiet for children, but they had survived something no child should.
Behind me, Joe’s convoy rumbled to life. Three black SUVs, snow-stained, windows tinted, guns locked and loaded. His men didn’t speak much. But I saw it in their eyes—relief, respect, readiness for the next mission.