The Ultimate Revenge of the Tragic Heroine

After blazing through three power-fantasy stories, the hardest thing I'd ever faced was an overly bitter iced Americano.

So when I woke up reborn as the tragic heroine of an angst-filled novel, my first instinct was to find the nearest wall and ram my head into it for a reset.

But just as I was about to, memories from the original character flooded in.

A mafia Don father. A billionaire CEO mother. A handsome, rich, devoted childhood sweetheart.

With a setup this overpowered, how did the original girl waste her life chasing a scumbag? She let him and his mistress destroy herright up to her bones being fed to wild dogs.

It was an insult to badass heroines everywhere.

I pulled back from the wall. Just then, my phone buzzed. A text from the other woman, Chloe, with a photo of her and my fianc, Brad, tangled in bedsheets.

[Chloe Bennett]: Brad had too much to drink. Staying at my place tonight. Don't worry, I'll take good care of him.]

Time, place, culpritsall served on a silver platter.

I forwarded the message and photo to every major gossip outlet I knew.

My caption: BREAKING: C-list actress and billionaire heir caught rehearsing a script' late at night. Wait for slide #2!

While the paparazzi swarmed Chloe's apartment complex, I was soaking in a ridiculously large bathtub, scrolling through a sitcom on my tablet.

The hashtag #BraddChloe was dominating the trending charts.

I lazily reposted the provocative photo Chloe had so thoughtfully sent me, adding a simple, questioning emoji.

Meanwhile, Brad Thompson was trying to hunt me down, blowing up my phone with a string of furious calls.

I ignored them, happily nursing a cocktail in a neon-lit nightclub, shamelessly checking out the DJ.

Of course, a billionaire heir has his resources.

It only took an hour for his bodyguards to find me and unceremoniously drag me back to his villa.

Brad's eyes were blazing with a fury so intense it felt like he wanted to devour me whole.

Victoria Hawthorne! What the hell do you think you're doing? he roared.

Do you have any idea what you've done to Chloe? Is this your pathetic attempt to get my attention? By ruining her?

I shook my head, sinking languidly into the plush sofa.

Get your attention? Please. Your ego is taking up all the air in the room. I'm not trying to get your attention. I'm just trying to ruin you and that cheap knock-off you're sleeping with.

As a heroine from a power-fantasy world, I had a particular set of skills. Pissing people off was my specialty.

It worked.

Brad stared at me, his brow furrowed in confusion, clearly thrown off by my departure from the usual script of tearful accusations. But his confusion quickly morphed back into rage.

Chloe is just a friend from high school, Victoria! Stop projecting your own filthy thoughts onto us! he snarled. If you want to stay with me, if you want your father's little company to stay afloat with my support, you will get online right now and issue a public apology to Chloe. You will tell everyone that you faked that photo and the texts.

Hold on. My father's company needs his support?

I'd almost forgotten. The original Victoria, terrified that her background would scare Brad off, had told a little white lie.

Her father, the feared Don Vincent Rossi, and her mother, the ruthless billionaire CEO Eleanor Grant, were painted as simple small-business owners struggling to make ends meet.

Little did Brad know, the Thompson empire' he was so proud of was only standing because my parents had been propping it up for years, a little charity project for their daughter's fianc.

And he had the audacity to posture like this.

I crossed my legs, leaning back into the sofa with a smirk. And if I don't? What are you gonna do about it?

He trembled with rage, his hand raising as if to strike me. Before his palm could connect, I whipped out my phone and hit record.'

Go on, do it, I taunted, holding the camera up to my face. Hit me right here. I guarantee if you lay a single finger on me, I'll sue you for everything you have, right down to your last pair of boxer shorts.

His hand froze mid-air, caught in an awkward limbo between striking me and losing face by backing down.

Just then, the frantic click-clack of high heels echoed from the foyer.

A second later, a figure flew into the room and threw herself into Brad's arms.

Brad, darling, please don't fight with Victoria because of me,

Chloe sobbed.

It's all my fault. I just wanted to let her know you were safe. I never thought she would misunderstand so badly and cause such a scene.

She heaved with dramatic, breathless sobsall the sound, none of the tears. Brad clutched her as if she were a precious, fragile doll, practically trying to absorb her into his own body.

My phone was still recording.

Perfect.

The B-roll was delivering itself.

I moved around them, getting all the angles.

A full 360-degree, high-definition shot of their touching reunion.

Yes, just like that! I encouraged them.

A little louder on the crying, Chloe. You can do better. And you, Brad, hold her tighter! Did you skip lunch? Put some feeling into it! Don't you think this moment calls for a passionate kiss to seal the deal?

Brad finally remembered I was there.

He hastily let go of Chloe's waist.

Victoria, are you insane? he seethed.

Delete that video. Now!

I scoffed, tucking the phone safely into my pocket.

Not a chance. I think I'll let the internet be the judge. We'll see who's really the one with the filthy mind, and who's just rotten to the core.

He opened his mouth, but the only threat he could muster was a weak, You'll regret this, Victoria.

Please. I've stared down intergalactic warlords.

A flimsy threat from a cheating fianc was hardly going to make me lose sleep.

This was just the beginning. Now that I was here, this story was no longer a tragedy. It was a revenge fantasy.

And I was writing the script.

I had assumed the cheating duo would lay low for a while.

I was wrong.

At three in the morning, my phone erupted with a storm of notifications, shattering my peaceful sleep.

I groggily unlocked it, and a flood of pop-up links funneled me directly into Chloe's livestream.

There she was, perched precariously on a rooftop ledge, tears streaming down her face as she told the world how I was driving her to her death.

Brad and I are innocent, she cried. Why won't anyone believe me? Why do you have to slander me why are you trying to ruin my life, to take everything from me! What's the point of me even being alive anymore

Her performance sent the comment section into a frenzy of vitriol directed at me.

[Chloe is too pure for this world. She doesn't understand how evil people can be. Not like that gold-digging witch trying to marry into a rich family.]

[Chloe and the CEO are the perfect couple. Why won't that other bitch just die already?]

[Chloe shouldn't have to jump for someone like that! SHE should be the one on that ledge!]

[Exactly! And that Brad guy is blind. How could he be engaged to such a monster?]

I rolled my eyes. Keyboard warriors. Predictably brainless.

Just then, another figure burst onto the screen. It was Brad, his face a mask of panic, his voice choked with emotion.

Chloe, get down from there! It's my fault! I didn't protect you! he pleaded. I swear, I will never let anyone hurt you again

The drama was thick enough to cut with a knife. I could already see how this would play out: the scumbag CEO and the damsel in distress would have a tearful confession of love, a passionate embrace, and the world would celebrate their twisted romance. The original Victoria would be the only casualty.

Too bad for them, I wasn't the original Victoria.

And my favorite pastime was pouring gasoline on a fire.

Without a second thought, I started typing in the chat.

[I suggest Brad jump with her to prove their innocence. Lock it down, you two!]

[If you don't jump, you're both my children.]

Satisfied, I exited the stream, turned off my phone, and went back to sleep.

The next morning, the gifts from my new internet fans started arriving. Funeral wreaths, buckets of red paint, bricks through the windows.

To top it all off, Brad had successfully bankrupted the "small business" the original Victoria had claimed her family owned.

I checked my phone. My name was still the number one trending topic, with hundreds of thousands of comments demanding my head.

This was perfect. The bigger the spectacle, the harder the fall.

Eager to gloat, Brad arrived at my door with Chloe on his arm, a smug, triumphant look on his face.

Have you learned your lesson yet, Victoria? he asked.

Apologize to Chloe online, and I might be willing to forget this ever happened. You can even continue to be my pathetic little lapdog.

I lounged on the sofa, my eyes rolling so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck.

Did you forget to take a piss this morning? If you don't have any urine to look in, maybe try a mirror? But don't do it in my house. It would probably smell as foul as you do.

Seeing his threats had no effect, Chloe tugged on Brad's sleeve, her face transforming in an instant.

Her eyes reddened, her lip trembled.

Brad, darling does this mean Victoria will never forgive me? I'll get on my knees if it will make her feel better. Please, don't fight because of me.

She made a show of starting to kneel.

Brad immediately hauled her up, shielding her behind him like a mother hen.

He glared at me with a look so venomous it could kill.

I just started humming a little tune.

Oh, what a poor, innocent little flower, so full of bullshit and cheap tricks

Brad, deprived of the groveling apology he expected and seeing his precious Chloe bullied again, finally snapped.

You will regret this, Victoria, he seethed. Mark my words.

I waved them off.

Bye-bye now.

I'll give Brad this: he was a man of his word, especially when it came to avenging his little damsel.

If I didn't have the backing of an insanely powerful family, his scorched-earth tactics might have actually been intimidating.

But as a power-fantasy heroine, his petty games were laughable.

Chloe's rabid fans camped outside my door, screaming obscenities?

I called the police and had the pests removed.

Brad bought hashtags to smear my name online, with an army of trolls spreading rumors?

I hired a team of lawyers to sue every last one of them for defamation.

My mother was a billionaire.

I could afford to be reckless.

My father was the Don.

I had an army of bodyguards. I wasn't afraid of anything.

The day before Brad was set to make a grand appearance at the city's most exclusive high-society gala with Chloe, my mother called.

She told me she had organized a little party and that I was required to attend. It was time, she said, for me to find a husband worthy of our family.

My parents weren't living under a rock.

They'd seen the online drama and had called immediately, asking how I wanted to handle it.

But this was my fight. A satisfying victory is one you win yourself. All I asked was for my dad to run a background check on Brad.

Otherwise, I wouldn't even need my father's influence a few of my bodyguards could have turned him into a human pretzel.

So when I walked into the very gala Brad was so proud to have been invited to, wearing a couture gown designed by a living legend, the look on his face was priceless.

Victoria? How did you get in here? he stammered.

What, I'm not allowed to attend the party my own mother threw for me?

He was about to call security to have me thrown out when I cut him off with a dismissive shrug.

If they're letting trash like you in, this party can't be all that exclusive.

He obviously had no authority to command the event's security, so he lowered his voice to a hiss.

This is not a place for lowlifes like you. You'd better not cause a scene, or I swear, you'll pay for it.

At least he had enough sense to know he was out of his league here. He had probably begged, borrowed, and stolen to get an invitation, hoping to network his way to the top.

A noble goal, if he hadn't brought a liability.

Suddenly, Chloe dropped to her knees in front of me, one hand clutching her chest dramatically, the other grabbing the hem of my gown.

Victoria, I'm begging you, please stop fighting with Brad because of me, she wailed.

I'll leave him. I'll disappear from your lives forever. Just please, don't embarrass him in front of all these important people.

The little fool didn't realize that her pathetic act was the most embarrassing thing of all.

As intended, her performance drew the eyes of everyone in the ballroom. People started pointing and whispering.

Brad, who had just warned me not to cause a scene, immediately switched into protective mode.

He rushed to Chloe's side, scooping her into his arms and roaring at me.

Look what you've done, Victoria! I told you not to make trouble, and now you've forced Chloe to her knees! Did you think you could bully her into leaving me? Let me tell you something: in my eyes, you're not even worthy of polishing her shoes!

He was so loud I was almost certain his earlier warning had just been a fart in the wind.

I nodded slowly and began to applaud.

A truly moving performance.

A show this spectacular deserves a bigger audience than just me, I said, pulling out my phone and starting a livestream. Let's share this with the world.

I aimed the camera at them.

Okay, I wasn't ready before. Let's take it from the top. Run the scene again. Let the whole world bear witness to your beautiful, tragic love story.