Payback

Tessa let the ruined, torn half of the breathtaking designer dress slip from her fingers. The delicate silk fluttered through the air, pooling on the pristine marble floor of the boutique like discarded trash. A smug, triumphant smile stretched across her glossed lips. She looked down at the ruined garment, then back up at Daphne, her eyes dancing with malicious glee.

"Oops. My hand slipped," Tessa purred, batting her eyelashes in a pathetic display of feigned innocence. She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest. "But I am sure since you love it so much, Daphne, and since you clearly have a magic limitless card, you will happily buy it anyway, right?"

Daphne stood frozen. Her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. Her body shook with a white-hot rage that threatened to consume her. She stared at the torn fabric, her chest heaving with every ragged breath.

Beside Tessa, Lola stepped closer, a condescending smirk playing on her lips. She tilted her head, her voice dripping with mock concern. "Do you need a loan, Daphne? We know you have that black card, but maybe the bank limits it for office workers. A little tear like that is nothing, right?"

The store manager, having stood on the sidelines, realized his massive commission lay in tatters on the floor. His face turned a sickly shade of gray. Sweat beaded on his forehead, rolling down his neck. Terrified of losing the sale, he crowded into Daphne's personal space, his previous polite demeanor vanishing. He jabbed a thick finger toward the fabric. "You held the dress! The damage happened while it was in your hands. You pay for the damage this instant!"

Daphne refused to endure this public humiliation a second longer. She ignored the sweating manager and leveled a dangerous, unblinking glare directly at Tessa's gloating face. The air in the boutique grew heavy with tension.

"You are just doing this because you are obsessed with Declan," Daphne said. Her voice cut through the quiet boutique like a sharpened blade, echoing off the marble walls. "You always have been. Why don't you go after him yourself? Oh, wait. That is right. Because even when you throw yourself at his feet, he does not want you. You are nothing but a desperate joke to him."

The precise, devastating jab hit its mark. Tessa's smug facade shattered into a million pieces. Her face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. Shrieking like a banshee, Tessa lunged forward. She raised her hand high, her manicured nails aimed like claws, fully intending to leave bleeding scratches across Daphne's face.

But Daphne had survived years on the rough streets. She had learned to anticipate a strike. She planted her foot and neatly sidestepped the wild attack. The sudden shift in momentum sent Tessa flying past her. Tessa sprawled awkwardly, her expensive high heels twisting under her weight. She crashed hard onto the polished floor with a loud, humiliating thud.

"You dodged!" Tessa howled from the ground, her face red with embarrassment and rage.

Enraged by her friend's humiliating fall, Lola unleashed a feral snarl. She stepped forward, her eyes locked on Daphne. She raised her hand high, her fingers twitching, ready to deliver a punishing slap to Daphne's cheek.

But Lola's hand never met its target. As her palm flew through the air, an iron grip caught her fragile wrist mid-swing. The hold was cold and unyielding as steel.

Lola gasped, spinning around to find the source of the grip. Serena stood there. She seemed to have materialized out of thin air. Her dark eyes were frozen solid, radiating a terrifying, murderous intent that made the air in the boutique turn to ice. Without a single word, Serena delivered a brutal flick of her wrist. She twisted Lola's arm, sending the screaming girl tumbling forcefully to the ground. Lola landed in a tangled, pathetic heap right beside Tessa.

Serena did not even spare a glance at the groveling bullies. Her icy demeanor vanished the second she turned toward her sister. "Daphne, are you hurt?" Serena asked softly. Her hands reached out, gently checking Daphne's arms and shoulders for injuries.

The profound, genuine terror in Serena's voice brought a massive wave of emotion crashing down on Daphne. It struck her chest hard. Daphne had not heard such fierce, unconditional concern directed at her in a grueling decade. She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. A small, clean smile broke through her anger. "I am okay. But they ruined my dress."

On the floor, Tessa and Lola rubbed their bruised limbs. They began to stammer tearful protests, throwing out empty threats.

Serena turned her head, her face hardening back into a mask of cold authority. She calmly instructed her assistant, Mara, who had just strode into the boutique backed by a team of imposing bodyguards in dark suits. "Call the police immediately. Forcefully pull the store's security footage. I want this pathetic display posted online before they even reach the station."

Tessa and Lola froze. The blood drained from their faces as they grasped the life-ruining magnitude of that threat. Public exposure meant social exile.

"Who do you think you are?" Tessa stammered, her voice shaking. "What is your relationship with her?"

Before Serena could reply, heavy footsteps echoed through the entrance. A large group of severe-looking men in impeccably tailored suits marched briskly into the boutique. They bypassed the trembling store manager without a single glance. The men at the very front of the formation marched straight up to Serena. They stopped in unison and bowed deep, forming a perfect ninety-degree angle.

"Miss Rena," the lead executive declared. His voice shook with sheer terror. "We are profoundly sorry for this unpleasant experience in our establishment. Please, allow us to compensate you. Everything in the store today is on the house."

One of the suited executives, an older man sweating through his expensive collar, stepped forward. He was Lola's powerful uncle. He shot his niece a look of furious hatred. He hissed viciously at her, pointing a shaking finger at the floor. "Get on your knees and apologize this instant!"

"But, Uncle—" Lola mumbled, tears welling in her eyes.

Serena crossed her arms. Her posture made it chillingly clear that the police were still on their way to arrest them for assault and property destruction.

Seeing Serena's unyielding stance, the uncle strode over without a second of hesitation. He raised his hand and slapped Lola across the face. The sharp crack silenced the entire store. It echoed off the glass displays, shattering Lola's arrogant, privileged facade. She crumpled to the ground.

Forced to bow until their foreheads nearly touched the pristine marble floor, Lola and Tessa groveled. They wept openly, their voices trembling as they begged Daphne to forgive their monumental stupidity.

Daphne stood in stunned silence. She watched the display of god-like authority Serena commanded. This city had only ever shown Daphne cruelty, yet here were her tormentors, begging at her feet. Not wanting to create more dangerous enemies in high society for her sister, Daphne relented. She turned to Serena and quietly asked her to let it go.

Serena gave a sharp nod. The reprimanded bullies were forced to pay the massive thirty thousand dollars for the ruined dress out of their own pockets. But Serena was not finished.

Her dark eyes flashed with a cold, unrelenting fury. She stepped closer to the trembling girls. A private settlement required more than a forced apology and a clothing tab. She coldly demanded massive financial compensation for Daphne's severe emotional distress and the public humiliation they had caused.

Desperate to avoid a catastrophic public scandal that would ruin their families, Tessa and Lola scrambled for their phones. They frantically wired fifteen thousand dollars each directly into Daphne's bank account. Once the confirmation screens appeared, they scrambled to their feet. They turned and fled the mall in hysterical tears, their expensive heels clicking wildly against the floor.

The sycophantic store manager did not escape Serena's wrath. He was promptly fired on the spot. Security guards stepped forward, stripped him of his employee badge, and escorted him out of the boutique.

With the chaotic storm finally settled, the atmosphere in the store shifted into calm luxury. Serena lounged gracefully on a plush velvet sofa in the boutique's VIP lounge. She sipped chilled champagne from a crystal flute while Daphne finally enjoyed her shopping experience in total peace. Daphne browsed the racks, running her fingers over the pristine fabrics.

"Wrap them all up," Serena ordered. She waved a manicured hand over racks of priceless garments. A newly promoted salesclerk, her hands trembling with excitement and fear, rushed to follow the command.

Daphne spun around, her eyes wide with panic. "No, you cannot do that! The cost for all of this is astronomical!"

Serena dismissed Daphne's panicked protests with a calm shake of her head. "Do not worry, sweetie. I have money."

Just then, the peaceful atmosphere shattered. Daphne's cheap cell phone rang loud and abrasive in the quiet luxury of the lounge. Daphne dug the device out of her purse. Seeing the caller ID glowing on the cracked screen, her face went sheet white. The color drained from her lips. She answered the call with a trembling hand, pressing the phone to her ear.

Her father, Gareth Vance, barked harsh and loud through the receiver. His angry voice echoed clear in the quiet room, bleeding through the cheap speaker. "Where the hell are you, Daphne? It is Myra's birthday dinner tonight. Get your ungrateful ass back to this house right now, or I swear to God I will burn everything in your old room to ash."

A familiar, suffocating wave of deep resentment washed over Daphne. It crashed into a paralyzing helplessness that froze her in place. She gripped the phone tight, her knuckles turning bone white against the plastic casing. She silently told herself to just give in. Go to the dinner. Keep her head down. Survive. That was how she had navigated her miserable life for the past seven years.

Standing right beside her, Serena heard every single venomous word through the speaker. A cold, dark memory surfaced from the depths of Serena's mind. She pictured the father she remembered from her childhood. Gareth Vance was a weak, spineless man. He had been overshadowed by their formidable, brilliant mother, Celine. To Serena, Gareth had only ever been married to their mother on the superficial strength of his devastatingly handsome face.