[68] The bigger game

We walked in silence for a bit after leaving Vanessa's office parking lot, the guy leading the way like he knew exactly where he wanted to go. My mind was still reeling from everything that had just happened—the awkward, emotional encounter with Vanessa, and now this mysterious ex of hers, dropping vague hints about something bigger going on.

We ended up at a McDonald's a few blocks away. It was one of those dingy ones, a little rough around the edges, but I didn't care. I just wanted answers. We sat down at a booth in the back corner, away from the few other customers in the place. He glanced at me, his expression serious.

"Alright, man," he said, leaning forward. "First thing's first—turn off your phone."

I frowned, already feeling the skepticism rising in my chest. "Why do I need to turn off my phone?"

He gave me a hard look, his voice low and firm. "Trust me. Just do it. You don't want Vanessa knowing what we're talking about."

I shook my head, letting out a small laugh. "Come on, that's ridiculous. Why the hell would she—"

"I'm serious," he cut me off, his tone sharper now. "She's got hackers, man. People who can get into your phone, your accounts, your messages. She can track you, listen to you, control everything without you even knowing. Just turn it off."

I stared at him for a moment, feeling the absurdity of what he was saying. But something about the look in his eyes—the intensity, the rawness—made me pause. With a sigh, I pulled out my phone, powered it down, and set it on the table between us.

"Alright," I said, crossing my arms. "Phone's off. Now what the hell is this about?"

He leaned back, his expression relaxing a bit now that I'd done what he asked. "Good. Now we can talk."

I shook my head again, still skeptical. "Hackers? Seriously? This sounds like some paranoid bullshit."

He smirked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You'd think so. Until you realize what she's capable of."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly is she capable of?"

He glanced around the nearly empty restaurant before leaning in again, his voice low. "Let me ask you something. Since you and Vanessa split, have you had any jobs go south for no reason? Like, you're doing fine, everything's good, and then—bam—you're out on your ass?"

I frowned, the question hitting a little too close to home. "Yeah... a couple times, actually. But that doesn't mean—"

"That's her," he interrupted, his tone matter-of-fact. "Vanessa makes sure you can't get back on your feet. She cuts off your opportunities, makes it impossible for you to be financially independent. She keeps you under her thumb, even after you're out of her life."

I stared at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and anger rising in my chest. "That's fucking ridiculous. Why would she do that?"

He shrugged, his expression darkening. "Control. Power. She doesn't want you or me or anyone else she's been with to be able to stand on their own. She wants us dependent on her. It's all a game to her, man. She pulls the strings, and you dance whether you know it or not."

I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around what he was saying. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would she go through all that trouble?"

The guy leaned in closer, his voice almost a whisper now. "Because it's about control. You think she's just some rich woman who gets what she wants because she's got money? Nah, man, it's deeper than that. She's got powerful friends—politicians, businessmen, tech moguls. People who owe her favors. And she uses them to keep people like us in line."

I felt my stomach churn as I thought back to the jobs I'd lost, the weird circumstances surrounding them. But then something else clicked in my head—something from earlier, something that had haunted me for a while now.

"The food scandal," I muttered, mostly to myself.

The guy's eyes lit up, and he nodded. "Exactly. What happened?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "During my first entrepreneur attempt, my restaurant was doing great for a couple of weeks. Then, all of a sudden, there's this huge scandal—someone got food poisoning and blasted us all over social media. We tried to reach out to them, but they blocked us. It tanked the whole thing."

He smiled grimly, shaking his head. "That was most likely Vanessa. She's done that shit before. Gets one of her friends or hires someone to stir up a scandal, makes sure your business takes a hit. And then, when you're desperate and struggling, she's right there, ready to 'help' you out. Keeps you in her orbit."

I stared at him, my heart pounding as the pieces started to fall together in my mind. The jobs I'd lost, the restaurant scandal, the way I always ended up back at her door, begging for help. Had this all been orchestrated? Was Vanessa really pulling the strings the whole time?

"No fucking way," I muttered, shaking my head. "She wouldn't go that far."

"She would," he said firmly. "She has. I've seen her do it to others, and now she's done it to you. You don't believe me? Think about it. Why else would everything fall apart the way it did? You're smart, you work hard—there's no reason you should've failed like that. Unless someone was making sure you did."

I felt sick, the realization crashing over me like a wave. I had always thought my failures were because of bad luck, or my own shortcomings. But what if it had all been orchestrated? What if Vanessa had been sabotaging me this whole time?

"And now you're here," the guy continued, "back at her feet, asking for help again. Right where she wants you."

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling up inside me. "Why the fuck would she do this? Just to keep me down?"

He nodded, his expression grim. "Exactly. She's got you right where she wants you. Dependent on her. Needing her. And as long as you keep playing her game, she'll always have control over you."

I sat there, staring down at the table, my mind racing. Everything I thought I knew about Vanessa, about the last few months of my life, was unraveling right in front of me.

"I know this is a lot to take in," he said, swirling the straw around in his soda. "But you've got to understand—Vanessa doesn't just date people. She plays them. It's all a fucking game to her."

I frowned, still processing everything he'd just told me. "A game? What do you mean?"

He took a sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at me. "She PUA's people, man. Pick-Up Artist shit. You know what that is, right?"

I nodded slowly, even though I wasn't entirely sure where he was going with this. "Yeah, I know about it. Manipulation, mind games, that sort of thing."

He grinned, but it wasn't a friendly smile—it was more like the grin of someone who had seen too much. "Exactly. And Vanessa's a fucking pro at it. She plays the perfect girlfriend, makes you feel like you're the center of her world, like you're the only guy who matters. And then, just when you're comfortable, when you're starting to think maybe this is real, she flips the script."

I sat back in my seat, trying to think back to all the times Vanessa had done something that didn't quite add up. There was that one time—no, several times—when I felt like I was being tested. The way she'd react to certain things, how she'd make a huge deal out of something small, only to forgive me after making me grovel for a while. But one moment stuck out more than the others—Lorenzo, that night at the bar.

"I remember this one time," I began, leaning forward, my voice low. "Lorenzo took a picture of me with this girl at a club. She leaned in too close, and he snapped the shot. Next thing I know, Vanessa's throwing a fit, acting like I cheated on her. She dumped me right after. It was a mess."

The guy nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. "Yeah, that's classic Vanessa. She sets you up, man. She makes sure there's a 'test'—something to 'prove' your loyalty. And when you fail, she acts devastated. It's all bullshit. She set you up to fail in the first place. That whole thing with Lorenzo? It wasn't an accident. She had him take that picture on purpose."

I stared at him, my heart racing as I pieced it all together. "What? You're saying she set me up? Why the fuck would she do that?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dead serious. "Control. She makes you think you've done something wrong, makes you feel guilty, and then—when you come crawling back—she's already in control. She pretends to forgive you, but by then, you're already on your knees, desperate to get back in her good graces. It's about power, man. She wants you obedient."

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. Everything he was saying made too much sense. The breakups, the reconciliations, the constant push and pull. It had always felt like I was the one fucking up, like I had to prove something to her, to earn her trust. But if this guy was right, Vanessa had been pulling the strings the whole time.

"She did the same thing to me," the guy continued, his voice bitter now. "Set me up with some bullshit 'cheating' scenario, then dumped me like I was trash. And then, when I came back, groveling, she was all too happy to forgive me—on her terms. But by then, she had me right where she wanted me. Under her thumb."

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the anger and confusion swirl inside me. "But why? What does she get out of it?"

He chuckled darkly. "Control. Power. It's like I said. She doesn't want a boyfriend—she wants a puppet. Someone she can manipulate, someone who'll always come back to her, no matter what. It's not about love, man. It's about keeping you in line."

I shook my head, my thoughts racing. "That doesn't make any sense. Why go through all that trouble? Why not just... move on?"

The guy leaned back, crossing his arms. "Because she's not done with you. She'll always keep one foot in your life, always make sure you're dependent on her in some way. Even if you think you've moved on, she'll find a way to pull you back in. That's why she screws with your jobs, sabotages your opportunities. She doesn't want you standing on your own two feet. She wants you crawling back to her."

The pieces started to fall together in my head, the way everything had gone downhill after I'd left her. The food scandal with my restaurant, the sudden layoffs, the way every job seemed to fall apart for no reason. It was too much to be a coincidence.

"She's making sure I can't succeed without her," I muttered, more to myself than to him.

The guy nodded, his expression grim. "Exactly. She wants you to fail. She wants you to feel like the only way to survive is by going back to her. And once you do, she'll let you see how 'happy' she is with her new boyfriend, just to rub it in. It's all part of the game."

I clenched my fists, the anger boiling up inside me. "So she's doing this on purpose? Sabotaging me, making sure I lose every job I get, just so I'll come crawling back to her?"

"Yep," he said, his voice flat. "She's done it before. She'll do it again. And trust me, man—she'll love seeing you come back to her, defeated and obedient."

I stared at him, the realization hitting me like a freight train. I was the one who had broken up with her. I had been the one to walk away, and now, it was all starting to make sense. She wasn't used to that. She wasn't used to losing control.

"I was the one who broke up with her," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "She didn't dump me. I ended it."

The guy looked at me, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Well, shit. That's a first."

I frowned, still trying to process everything. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Most of her boy toys don't have the balls to leave her. They cling on, thinking they'll change her or something. But you... you actually walked away. No wonder she's screwing with you. She's not used to losing control like that."

I stared down at the table, my thoughts racing. She was trying to break me. That's what this was all about. The jobs, the rejections, the sabotage—it was all part of her plan to make me come crawling back, to put me under her thumb again.

"She's making sure I lose everything," I muttered. "So I'll come back to her, desperate and broken."

"Exactly," the guy said, his voice sharp. "And if you go back now, if you give in, she'll have you exactly where she wants you. She'll keep dangling the money, the power, the connections—whatever she thinks will keep you around. But you'll never be free. You'll always be under her thumb, always dependent on her."

I felt sick to my stomach, the realization crashing down on me like a wave. I had been so close to going back to her, to begging for her help again. But now I knew the truth—it was all a game.

"So what the fuck am I supposed to do?" I asked, my voice filled with frustration. "Just... stay away from her? How do I get out of this?"

The guy shrugged, his expression grim. "You've got to cut her off. Completely. No calls, no texts, no showing up at her office. You've got to disappear from her radar. That's the only way to break free."

I sighed, rubbing my face as I tried to process everything. "Easier said than done."

"Yeah, well, no one said it was gonna be easy," he replied, standing up from the booth and grabbing his jacket. "But it's the only way. Otherwise, you'll be stuck in her web for the rest of your life."

I stood up too, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on me. "Thanks... I guess. For telling me all this."

He nodded, giving me a small, bitter smile. "Don't mention it. Just don't end up like me."

As we walked out of the McDonald's and into the parking lot, I couldn't help but feel like the world had shifted beneath my feet. Everything I thought I knew about Vanessa, about the way things had ended between us, had been flipped on its head.

But now I knew the truth.

And now... I had to figure out what the hell to do with it.

Q: Did you expect this revelation?