15 Million Reasons For Revenge

The Club Mirage in the heart of Miami. It was ten at night. I adjusted the black vest of my waiter’s uniform. My hands were steady on the cart stacked with champagne bottles. Payday had come, and for once, I wasn’t dragging myself through the shift with a sour face.

Two months ago, Alina, my girlfriend said she wanted the new iPhone 17. 2000 dollars. A price tag that made my stomach turn. But she deserved it. She never nagged me for not hanging out, never blew up my phone. when I was working. Sometimes, though, I wished she would. Just to remind me I was still her priority.

That’s why I took extra shifts, picked up part-time jobs after school, all to scrape together enough to buy her that damn phone.

Tonight, the weight on my chest felt lighter knowing I was close to making it happen.

I pushed the cart up to the second floor and stopped at one of the private rooms. Knocking twice, I called out politely, “The wine you ordered has arrived.” I said with a hint of the smile I’d been carrying all night.

The door creaked open. And my smile died. There, on the plush sofa under the dim neon glow, was Alina.

Her dress—if you could call it that—was a thin, black scrap that plunged so low her cleavage glistened in the light, daring eyes to follow the curve of her breasts. The hem barely kissed her thighs, leaving smooth, pale skin bare for the whole room to see. She wasn’t sitting alone. She was curled up against Damian Cross. Damian. We went to the same college. Everyone knew him for being rich and arrogant. He was the kind of guy who thought money made him untouchable.

My eyes flicked to the guards stationed near the walls, but Damian didn’t care about them. He didn’t care about anyone. His lips twisted into a filthy grin as his hand slid under Alina’s skirt. My chest tightened as I watched his fingers trace over the thin fabric of her panties, her breath catching in response. She tilted her head and wrapped her hands around his neck, her eyes locked on his, her smile dripping with lust. The world blurred for a second. My throat burned. Somehow, I managed to croak out her name.

“Alina…?”

Her body stiffened. For a split second, shame flashed in her eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by fire. She stood abruptly, and as she moved, I caught sight of her soaked panties. A sticky sheen coated her inner thighs, a glistening strand of fluid trailing as she walked toward me. My stomach churned. Her hand came fast, snapping against my cheek. The sting burned.

“You f***er!” she screamed, her voice slicing through the music and chatter outside the room. “How dare you follow me here?!”

I clenched my jaw, ready to explode, but before I could say a word, Damian’s voice interrupted.

“Don’t blame him,” he drawled lazily, stroking Alina’s bare thigh. “I’m the one who chose this place. I knew he worked here. That’s why I brought you.”

My chest tightened as he slid his arm around her slender waist, pulling her close with a mocking smirk.

Alina’s expression softened immediately. She tilted her head toward him, her lips parting in a coy pout. “Damian…” she breathed, dragging out his name slowly, almost like a moan. Then she pursed her lips, feigning a sulky look that stabbed me in the gut.

“You invited me here just to humiliate him? I thought this was supposed to be our date. I don’t care about him—I just want to be with you tonight.”

Damian chuckled, his eyes never leaving mine. “Ruin the atmosphere? No, sweetheart. This…” He pointed straight at me, his grin widening into something cruel. “This makes it perfect.”

Damian looked playfully looked into my eyes and burst out laughing. “That face! Oh, God, it never gets old. The look a man makes when he sees his girlfriend wrapped around someone else. F**k, I love it.”

He leaned forward. “Tell me, man. How does it feel?”

My breathing grew ragged, fury boiling in my veins. I glared at the two of them, my voice breaking as I called out, “Alina… I worked myself to the bone for you. I took jobs I didn’t even want, went into debt, just to give you what

you asked for. And this is how you pay me back?”

Her gaze met mine, cold and unfeeling. “You did shit for me,” she snapped. “I don’t want scraps, I want a life worth living. Can you give me that?” She gestured at Damian with a proud smile. “Look at him. He’s a rich heir. He buys me phones, purses,

makeup—without blinking. You? You’re a broke loser who can barely feed himself. Pathetic.”

Her words sliced through me, leaving nothing but rage and despair. “I’m in debt because of you!” I shouted, my hands were

trembling. “But I’m almost done paying it off—”

She scoffed, cutting me off with a look of filled with disdain. “And did I force you into debt? No. That was your choice. And for what? Cheap little gifts? While Damian spends thousands on me every day.” She sneered, her lip

curling. “Face it—you’re nothing but a f***ing broke-ass b**ch.”

The contempt in her voice hollowed me out. My heart felt like it was being crushed, yet the fire of anger only burned hotter.

Damian leaned back, watching the exchange with delight. Then he pointed at Alina, his smile turning darker. “See, kid? You’ve been in love with this girl for years, but you never had the guts to touch her in any way, did you? Well I'm in a good mood today, which calls for special reward for you.” 

As Damian talked, he suddenly raised his hands and violently tore at the neckline of Alina's dress.

Alina cried out in surprise as her nipples spilled out.

"Do you know why she never wears a a bra? It's to let me play with her t**s at anytime!"

Damian make a vulgar smile as he grabbed one of Alina's t**s and began squeezing roughly. His fingers sank deep into her supple flesh.

"Ahh!" Alina cried in pain but did not resist. Instead, she snuggled into his arms, a horny look on her face. "There are still people here... Ehh, it hurts—ah, be gentle"

Damian ignored her and continued to fiercely squeeze and fondle her hair and fair breast. “You see kid, this is a world where money buys everything. Affection. Loyalty. Even love. Without it, you’ll always be on your knees.”

“Shut the f**k up!” I roared. 

Seeing everything unfold in front of me had pushed me to the edge. My anger exploded like wildfire, and I charged straight at Damian.

One of his bodyguards stepped in front of him instantly blocking my way. His fist came out of nowhere, smashing into my face. Stars burst across my vision, but rage blinded me. I lunged forward recklessly, swinging, clawing, desperate to land even a single hit.

It was useless. I was just an ordinary college student. He was a trained fighter. Within moments, I was on the ground, blood pouring from my nose, my lip split, my body beaten until not an ounce of strength remained.

Damian’s shadow loomed over me. He crouched slightly, his smug face hovering above mine as he waved his hand lazily. “Throw him out,” he ordered. Then, with a wicked grin, he added, “And you can all leave too. This slut is soaking wet. She can’t wait any longer.”

Alina’s voice chimed in, breathy, sultry. “Yes… hurry, Damian. I’m dripping for you.”

The door slammed shut, and a moment later, muffled moans seeped through the walls.

I lay there, broken, aching, my forehead bleeding, the world spinning. Slowly, painfully, I staggered to my feet and stumbled out of the club. Outside, I collapsed by the roadside, the shadows of the shrubs cloaking my pathetic figure.

Blood still trickled down my forehead, but I didn’t care. I pulled a pack of tissues from my pocket and pressed them against the wound, praying it would close up on its own. A hospital bill was out of the question—I couldn’t even afford decent food, let alone treatment.

Damian was a bastard. Alina was worse. But one thing he said was true.

In this world, money was everything.

Wasn’t tonight proof of that? My suffering, my humiliation, all because I was poor.

My fists clenched, nails digging deep into my palms. Nothing was permanent. I refused to stay like this. One day, I would rise. I would have money, power—and when I did, I would take my revenge.

Just then—(ding).

I pulled out my phone, confused. My screen lit up with a bank alert. My heart stopped.

(15,000,000.00 USD has been transfered to account 3817.

Balance: 15,000,080.00 dollars) 

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, counted the zeros again. Fifteen. Million. Dollars.

“What the fuck…” I whispered. “This has to be a mistake.”

My pulse thundered in my ears. My breaths came shallow and fast. Was this some kind of scam? A banking error?

I took a deep breaths and steadied myself. I needed to analyse what just happened, but at that very moment, my phone rang suddenly,

startling me, but this time, it was a call from an unknown number.

I swallowed hard, forced myself to breathe, and answered. “Hello?”

A young woman’s voice came through, polite and calm. “Hello, pardon me. Am I speaking with Ethan Cole?”

“Yes…” I croaked, my throat dry. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she continued smoothly.

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Clara Whitmore. I am the personal assistant assigned by your father.You've received the 15 million dollar tranfer, correct?”

My mind went blank. “You were the one who transferred the money to me?!”

“To be precise, the transfer of fifteen million dollars you received was from your father.”