CHAPTER FOURTEEN:ECHOES OF VENGEANCE

The night swallowed me whole as I drove far away from the prison, my hands gripping the wheel tightly. I didn't know where I was going—I just knew I had to disappear.

By dawn, I found an abandoned cabin deep in the woods. It was small, cold, and smelled like damp wood, but it would do.

I couldn't afford to be seen. Not yet.

The first thing I did was cut my hair, letting the long strands fall to the dusty floor. Then, I dyed what was left a deep brown. My face—once soft and full—was now sharper, hardened by starvation and pain. I found an old sewing kit, used it to alter stolen clothes, making them baggy enough to hide my frame.

By the time I looked in the cracked mirror, I was someone else.

Not the weak girl who loved blindly. Not the victim they had locked away.

I was something new. Something dangerous.

Meanwhile, back in the prison, chaos erupted.

The escape was the biggest scandal in years. The warden was furious, guards were questioned, and the entire system was under scrutiny. But Officer Carter played her part well.

She forged reports, planted evidence, and finally, the news broke:

"Escaped prisoner found dead near the highway. Authorities confirm the notorious suspect perished in a high-speed accident."

A staged car crash. A fake body. The world thought I was gone.

And that was exactly what I wanted.

Because ghosts don't go to prison.

Ghosts haunt.

And I was ready to haunt them all.

I spent weeks in the shadows, moving carefully, stealing what I needed—a burner phone, fake IDs, cash from careless tourists.

I wasn't just surviving. I was preparing.

Leon and his family thought they had won. They were wrong.

One night, dressed in a hooded jacket, I made my way back into the city. My first target wasn't Leon. It was information.

I found an old abandoned building across from his mansion, high enough to give me a perfect view.

And I watched.

Leon was still playing the role of the perfect husband. His fake parents still carried on as if nothing had happened. But something was off.

Elena.

She was acting differently. Paranoid. She would check the mirrors constantly, as if expecting to see someone else staring back.

Did she sense me?

Good.

Because I was just getting started.

Elena was losing her mind.

I made sure of it.

It started with small things—her favorite dress slashed, her mirror cracked overnight, the scent of my old perfume lingering in her room. She would wake up screaming, swearing someone was there.

Then, I escalated.

One night, she found a note on her pillow:

"I see you."

Another day, the words appeared on her bathroom mirror, written in red lipstick:

"Did you miss me?"

Elena grew restless. She snapped at Leon, screamed at the maids, flinched at every shadow.

She thought she was being haunted.

She was right.

And I wasn't done yet.

Elena was breaking. I could see it in the way she carried herself—restless, paranoid, desperate for answers.

It was time to strike.

I sent her a letter.

A simple, elegant envelope with no return address. Inside, a handwritten note:

"I know what you've done. But I also know what Leon is planning against you. If you want the truth, meet me. Alone. Midnight. The abandoned chapel outside town. Burn this letter."

She would come.

She had to.

Leon had never been loyal to anyone but himself, and deep down, she knew it.

Now, all I had to do was wait in the dark for her.