Celebration by Firecracker

The money landed in my account by nightfall. Two million dollars—the price of my dignity, according to Alistair. My phone buzzed with a notification of the completed transfer while I was finishing dinner.

"At least he's prompt with his betrayal payments," I muttered to myself, setting down my fork.

I opened my laptop and pulled up the website for the most exclusive fireworks shop in the city. The one that supplied celebrations for celebrities and millionaires. The one that promised same-day delivery for premium customers.

My finger hovered over the "add to cart" button beside a pack of indoor firecrackers. The kind designed for stage performances and small celebrations. The kind that created more noise and smoke than actual fire.

Perfect.

By ten o'clock that evening, a discreet package arrived at my door. I signed for it with a smile that made the delivery man step back nervously.

"Special occasion?" he asked.

"You could say that." I tucked the package under my arm. "It's a... celebration of sorts."

I slept better that night than I had in days, dreaming of smoke and chaos and justice.

---

Morning arrived with a call from my father. I considered ignoring it, but decided answering would be more satisfying. Let him hear the new Hazel—the one who no longer cared about his approval.

"What do you want?" I answered, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Is that any way to speak to your father?" Harold Shaw's voice boomed through the speaker.

I laughed. "Father? That's a generous title for someone who's treated me like garbage since Mom died."

"Watch your tone, young lady. I heard about your extortion scheme with Alistair."

Of course he had. The family gossip network worked at lightning speed when it came to painting me as the villain.

"Extortion?" I kept my voice light as I selected my outfit for the hospital visit. "I simply set a fair price for my possessions. Basic capitalism, Dad. I thought you'd approve."

"Your sister is dying, and you're charging her fiancé for wedding jewelry? Have you no shame?"

I paused, anger heating my blood. "Shame? You want to talk about shame? Let's discuss how you cheated on my mother. Let's talk about how you let your new wife and her daughter torture me for years. Let's talk about THAT shame, Dad."

"You ungrateful—"

"Save it," I cut him off. "I'm done being your punching bag. Ivy wants my life? Fine. But it comes with a price tag."

"We'll see how smug you are when you're written out of the will," he threatened.

I laughed again, this time genuinely amused. "What will? You've been broke for years. The only thing keeping you afloat is Tanya's family money, and we both know that's drying up fast."

His spluttering rage was cut off when I ended the call. I tossed my phone onto the bed and finished dressing. A sleek black dress. Comfortable flats for a quick exit. Hair pulled back in a severe ponytail.

And tucked into my designer handbag, my special delivery from last night.

Time to pay dear sister Ivy a visit.

---

The hospital's pristine corridors reeked of disinfectant and despair. I made my way to the private wing where Ivy's room was located, the jewelry box heavy in my bag next to the package of firecrackers.

As I approached her room, I heard muffled voices. I slowed my steps, curious.

"It's not fair!" Tanya's voice carried through the half-open door. "Why her? Why my beautiful daughter? God should have taken that ungrateful Hazel instead!"

I froze, my hand gripping the doorframe.

"If Hazel had died, no one would miss her. She has no one who loves her. But my Ivy—my perfect, sweet Ivy—has everything to live for!"

My heart hammered against my ribs. Six years of accepting their cruelty. Six years of turning the other cheek. Six years of being the bigger person.

No more.

I pushed the door open with enough force to make it bang against the wall. The room fell silent. Every head turned toward me.

Tanya stood by Ivy's bedside, tears streaming down her heavily made-up face. My father sat in a chair by the window, looking exhausted and old. Alistair hovered near the foot of the bed, his expression shifting from surprise to alarm when he saw my face.

And there in the hospital bed, propped up on pillows like a dying princess, was Ivy. Her skin was pale, her hair meticulously styled despite her supposed weakness. She wore a full face of makeup.

"Hazel," Alistair stepped forward. "I didn't expect you this early."

I ignored him, my eyes locked on Tanya. "You wish I had died instead of your precious daughter? How fascinating. And here I thought stepmothers like you only existed in fairy tales."

Tanya's face flushed. "You weren't meant to hear that."

"Clearly," I replied, moving further into the room. "But I'm so glad I did. It saves us all the pretense."

"Hazel," my father warned, rising from his chair. "This isn't the place."

"On the contrary," I opened my handbag. "This is exactly the place. A hospital is where people go to heal or die. Today, what dies is the illusion that I'll continue to be your family's doormat."

I pulled out the jewelry box and tossed it onto the bed. "There you go, Ivy. Another piece of my life for your collection. I hope you enjoy wearing it for the brief time you have left."

Ivy's face contorted with rage. "You heartless bitch—"

"Save it," I cut her off, reaching back into my bag. "I brought something else. A wedding gift, if you will."

Before anyone could stop me, I pulled out the firecrackers. The long strings of red paper cylinders dangled from my hand.

"What are you doing?" Alistair asked, his voice rising in panic.

I smiled sweetly. "Celebrating my freedom."

I struck the starter with my thumbnail and tossed the first string directly at Alistair's feet.

The effect was instantaneous and glorious.

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

The firecrackers exploded in a deafening series, filling the room with smoke and chaos. Alistair jumped back, yelling. My father shouted. Tanya screamed. Ivy began shrieking orders that no one could hear over the noise.

I lit a second string and threw it toward the window where my father stood. Another ear-splitting series of explosions, another cloud of smoke.

The hospital fire alarm began to wail. Within seconds, the sprinkler system activated, sending water cascading down on everyone in the room.

Everyone except me, still standing safely in the doorway.

Water soaked into Ivy's perfectly styled hair, causing her makeup to run in black streaks down her face. Tanya's designer outfit clung to her like a wet rag. My father's expensive suit darkened with water. And Alistair—oh, Alistair looked like a drowned rat, staring at me with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"Are you insane?" he shouted over the alarm.

I smiled calmly, still dry in the doorway. "No. For the first time in years, I'm perfectly sane."

The hallway behind me filled with frantic hospital staff and security guards rushing toward the commotion. Patients and visitors peeked from doorways, watching the spectacle.

My family stood drenched and humiliated in the center of Ivy's hospital room, exposed for all to see.

"Enjoy the wedding," I said, stepping back into the hallway. "I hear wet weddings bring good luck."

As I turned to leave, I caught sight of someone watching from down the corridor. A tall man in an expensive suit, observing the scene with intense interest. Our eyes met briefly before he disappeared around a corner.

I didn't know it then, but that wasn't the last I would see of him.