“I want you to live a very, very long time,” I clarified, my eyes fixed on the drone footage of him shivering in the filth. “I want you to wake up every single day for the next fifty years, smelling the garbage, feeling the cold in your bones, and knowing that you threw away a billion-dollar empire and a family because you couldn’t stand the thought of treating a barista with basic human decency.”
“Elara, no…”
“My daughter is beautiful,” I said, driving the final nail into his coffin. “She will have the world at her fingertips. She will have power, and wealth, and a family that loves her fiercely. And she will never, ever know your name.”
“Elara, please!” he wailed, a sound of absolute, soul-crushing despair.
“This phone will self-destruct its internal motherboard in ten seconds,” I stated coldly. “Do not ever try to find me. The next time you see a black SUV, it won’t be dropping off a phone.”
“NO! ELARA WAIT—”
I pressed a button on the tablet.
In the alleyway, the phone in Liam’s hand let out a sharp, high-pitched beep, followed by a quiet pop.
A wisp of white smoke curled from the charging port. The screen went dead permanently.
On the tablet screen, I watched Liam Sterling drop the useless piece of plastic. I watched him curl into a tight, trembling ball in the mud, screaming into the empty, unforgiving void of the city.
No one stopped to help him. No one even looked twice.
He was exactly where he belonged.
I turned off the tablet, handing it to the security contractor standing quietly by the door.
“Is it done?” my father asked, stepping out onto the porch with two glasses of sparkling cider.
I looked at my father. I looked at the vast, secure estate. And then I looked down at my beautiful daughter, who was opening her dark eyes for the first time that afternoon, blinking up at the bright, limitless sky.
I took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. The weight of the past two years was finally, completely gone.
“It’s done,” I smiled, taking the glass of cider. “The trash took itself out.”
My father laughed, a booming, joyous sound that echoed across the lawns. He raised his glass to mine.
“To the Vance women,” my father toasted, his eyes shining with absolute pride.
I clinked my glass against his.
“To the Vance women,” I echoed.
The Sterling name was dust. Their money was gone. Their legacy was erased.
The payback was Biblical. And the future was entirely ours.
THE END
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