Road To Revenge: Obtaining a villain system

010. A New Man

Niccolo’s lips brushed Ariana’s cheek with deliberate firmness, not a lover’s gentle caress but a calculated gesture. He wanted Kimberly to see it —no, he needed her to see it. For the way she had made him suffer, reduced him to nothing in the eyes of her friends, and paraded Gregory like some prize stallion before him. Today, here in front of the city council building with people milling about and cameras snapping, Niccolo wanted her to taste the bitterness of regret.

Ariana blinked rapidly, her doe like eyes wide with surprise. She hadn’t expected Niccolo to pull her close like that, not in public, and certainly not with so many eyes on them. But she didn’t resist. Her hand lingered against his chest, steadying herself, and her lips curved into a small, uncertain smile.

“Are you done, or are you still busy?” she asked, her voice soft yet edged with curiosity.

“No I am,” Niccolo replied, his tone sharp, final. His gaze, however, softened slightly when it met hers. “Are you free for an early lunch, babe?”

The word babe slipped from his mouth with practiced ease, as if he had been calling her that for years. Ariana tilted her head, caught between laughter and bewilderment. She hadn’t expected to be claimed so openly, especially after their first and last encounter had been cordial but distant. Still, something in Niccolo’s eyes— a storm he was trying to hide— made her hold her tongue.

She nodded. “I can make time.”

Her simple agreement lit a faint spark of warmth in him. Kimberly, standing not far away, felt her world tilt. The papers in her hand trembled as she processed what she was seeing. That woman —Ariana —was not only breathtakingly beautiful but carried herself with a grace that made Kimberly’s own carefully styled hair and expensive heels feel suddenly cheap.

Kimberly’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and cruel. “Does she even know you’re a lowly janitor, Niccolo? That you don’t even have a roof over your head? Or are you hoping to waste her time too, like you wasted mine?”

The words stabbed at him, reopening wounds he thought he had sealed. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. Heat burned in his chest, not just from the insult, but from the deliberate attempt to humiliate him in front of Ariana.

Before Niccolo could speak, Ariana moved. She slid her arm around his waist with surprising boldness, pressing herself lightly against him. Her perfume— something floral, faintly citrus —rose in the breeze.

“Babe,” she said sweetly, tilting her head up to look at him with a knowing smile, “who are they?”

The casualness in her voice made Kimberly’s face darken. To Ariana, Kimberly, Lyla and Gregory were nothing but irrelevant shadows. And that stung Kimberly more than any insult Niccolo could have hurled.

Niccolo’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Nobody,” he said flatly. His voice carried a weight that made the small cluster of onlookers fall quiet. “Just ghosts from the past. And I’ll make sure they stay buried.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Niccolo reached down, laced his fingers through Ariana’s, and began walking away with her. His stride was steady, but each step was fueled by suppressed rage.

They had gone only a few feet when he stopped abruptly. Without turning back, his voice cut through the morning air, low but filled with venom.

“Now that the separation is complete,” he said, “make sure you never cross my path again. Because if you do, Kimberly, I swear I will make you regret it.”

The words fell like thunder, final and merciless. Kimberly stood frozen, her mouth parted but no sound escaping. Gregory shifted uncomfortably beside her, his pride smarting at the public humiliation. Lyla whispered something under her breath, but Kimberly was too stunned to catch it. For the first time since their affair began, she felt a flicker of doubt —a small, unwelcome pang of fear.

Niccolo didn’t look back. His grip on Ariana’s hand tightened, almost unconsciously, as if holding her kept him from drowning in his fury. She let him lead, though her curiosity burned like fire.

They stepped away from the council building, the crowd gradually dispersing behind them. The city hummed with life— cars honking, vendors calling out, the faint scent of roasted chestnuts drifting from a corner stand —but to Niccolo, it all blurred into background noise.

Ariana finally spoke when they reached a quieter street. “You kissed me.”

Niccolo glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I did.”

“On the cheek,” she added, as though clarifying it for herself.

“Yes.”

Ariana stopped walking, tugging lightly at his hand until he turned to face her. “And you called me babe.”

Niccolo’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. “I did that too.”

She studied him for a long moment, her bright eyes probing. “Why?”

His gaze dropped briefly, the weight of unspoken emotions dragging at his chest. “Because I needed to,” he said finally. “Because she needed to see it.”

Realization dawned in Ariana’s eyes. “You wanted to hurt her.”

Niccolo’s silence was answer enough.

Ariana exhaled softly. She should have been offended —most women would have been, used as pawns in someone else’s game of vengeance. But instead of anger, what she felt was… pity. This man who looked so proud and sharp edged, was bleeding inside, his dignity shredded by the woman who had once claimed to love him.

“Then let’s have lunch,” Ariana said suddenly, her tone light.

Niccolo blinked, caught off guard. “Lunch?”

“Yes,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “If I’m going to play the part of your babe in front of your ex wife, I think I deserve at least a good meal out of it.”

For the first time that day, Niccolo’s lips curved into a genuine smile. Small, faint, but real. “Fair enough.”

They found a quiet restaurant tucked between tall glass buildings, the kind with warm wooden interiors and soft instrumental music playing in the background. A waiter led them to a corner booth, giving them privacy from the bustling lunchtime crowd.

Niccolo ordered without hesitation —steak, rare, with a glass of red wine. Ariana raised her brows. “Expensive taste for a… janitor.”

His eyes flicked to hers, sharp, assessing. For a heartbeat he thought she might be mocking him like Kimberly had. But Ariana’s expression was teasing, almost playful.

“I wasn’t always a janitor,” Niccolo said evenly.

“And you aren’t now, are you?” she asked.

Niccolo’s fork paused mid air. Ariana’s perceptiveness unsettled him, though it also impressed him. “What makes you say that?”

“Because people who are broke don't wear clothes that could easily cover someone's rent,” she replied, her smile wry. “And because you carry yourself like a man who’s already decided his next move. Not someone who’s stuck cleaning up other people’s messes.”

Niccolo leaned back in his chair, studying her. Most people saw only what Kimberly painted of him— a pitiful man, clinging desperately to a life he had already lost. But Ariana saw deeper. That intrigued him.

“Well I have you and your parents to thank for the outfit,” he said at last, and she smiled.

Their food arrived, breaking the intensity of the moment. Ariana sliced into her salmon delicately, while Niccolo devoured his steak with quiet precision. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt strangely grounding.

Finally, Ariana set down her fork. “So, Niccolo… who is she, really? The woman back there.”

Niccolo’s jaw tightened. “Kimberly. My ex wife.”

“And the man?”

“Gregory. My ex boss. Her lover.”

Ariana’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s… cold.”

“Colder than you think,” Niccolo said, bitterness creeping into his voice. He stared into his wine glass as if the swirling liquid held the memories he wished he could erase. “They betrayed me. Mocked me. Stripped me of everything I had. But it won’t last. Their day will come.”

Ariana leaned forward slightly. “And you’ll be the one to bring it?”

Niccolo’s eyes lifted to hers, and for a fleeting second, the mask slipped. She saw not just anger but raw, unfiltered pain. “I promised myself,” he said quietly. “She will regret leaving me. And he will regret underestimating me.”

Ariana didn’t flinch. She held his gaze, her expression calm. “Then I hope you don’t lose yourself in the process.”

The words struck him harder than he expected. Niccolo swallowed, his throat tight. No one had ever said that to him. Everyone else either mocked him, pitied him, or encouraged his bitterness. But Ariana— she looked at him as if he was still salvageable, as if he was still worth something beyond his revenge.

For a moment, the ice around his heart cracked.

When they finished lunch, Niccolo paid without hesitation, slipping crisp bills onto the tray. Ariana arched a brow. “Definitely not meant to be broke,” she murmured under her breath.

As they stepped out into the afternoon sunlight, Niccolo felt a strange lightness. For the first time since his fall out with Kimberly, he hadn’t just been consumed by his anger. Ariana’s presence, steady yet unpredictable, was like a rope pulling him back from the edge.

But the fire in his chest remained. Kimberly had seen the new him —colder, sharper, untouchable. And that was only the beginning.

Niccolo glanced at Ariana walking beside him, her hair catching the sunlight like threads of gold. Maybe fate had handed him not just a way to wound Kimberly, but also an unexpected ally.

He wasn’t sure what Ariana saw in him, or why she hadn’t walked away after being thrown into his storm. But one thing was clear —she had stepped into his story now. And neither of them could predict where it would lead.