Chapter 11
Northvale High. 8:17 AM.
The bell rang.
Halls buzzed with the same energy.
Same gum-popping insults.
Same fake Gucci belts and louder-than-thou cheerleaders.
And in the center of it all?
Me.
Hood up.
Hunched.
Shuffling like I didn't own half the world in offshore assets.
A paper airplane hit the back of my head.
Laughter followed.
"Still sleeping on benches, Trashbrook?"
Another voice:
"Y'all think she even bathes?"
A third:
"I heard her parents dumped her 'cause even poverty didn't want her."
I kept walking.
Silent.
Deadpan.
Emily. Not Anna.
The fa?ade had to stay perfect.
Behind me, Valentina strutted with her usual crew.
High ponytail. Thick eyeliner. Laugh sharp like a knife.
She glanced at me.
Did her line.
"Well, well, if it isn't the queen of the orphanage. Did they let you out for good behavior or just for the daily humiliation parade?"
Laughter erupted again.
I didn't blink.
I just tripped over my shoelace. Books scattered.
Classic.
Valentina walked by.
Dropped a gum wrapper on top of my notebook.
"Oops. Guess you're trash inside and out."
Perfect.
Everyone saw.
Nobody questioned it.
I stood slowly.
Books in hand.
Then I passed her by the lockers.
She felt it.
My fingers brushed hers. Two taps. Janitor room. Now.
Janitor Room. 8:25 AM.
She came in 90 seconds later.
Shut the door behind her.
Her voice cracked.
"Every time I say that shit out loud, I wanna stab myself with a pen."
I turned.
Calm.
Already flipping open my tablet.
"Good. That means you're selling it."
She exhaled.
Dropped her bag. Leaned against the door.
"What's the update?"
I pulled up the screen.
Showed her the recordings.
"Marco's shell companies. I've tracked twelve so far. Four in the Cayman Islands, two in Luxembourg, three through a front company in Jakarta, and the rest? Ghosts we'll trace once we get access to his old laptop."
Valentina nodded slowly, eyes focused.
"And the school stuff?"
"Keep acting. Keep humiliating me. Keep your crown polished."
She winced.
"But the moment we change anything—"
"People get suspicious," I finished.
"This next stretch is critical. We can't give anyone a reason to look deeper."
She nodded again.
Swallowed hard.
"Anything else?"
I looked up.
"After school. You and me. Second meet."
She raised a brow.
"Selene's penthouse?"
I smirked.
"You gonna behave?"
She walked up close.
Really close.
Face inches from mine.
"I'll try. But if you wear that hoodie again, I'm biting the collar off."
I stepped past her.
Calm. Collected.
"You won't be the only one there craving."
She blinked.
"HUH?!"
I opened the door and walked out into the hall, hood back up, eyes back to dead.
And just like that—
I was back in business.
Parking Lot, 4:19 PM. SUV engine on.
My phone buzzed.
Valentina.
"Marco's calling me in. Last minute. He says it's important."
I leaned back in the seat, one hand on the wheel, sunglasses on.
My voice stayed calm.
"Go."
"But I was supposed to be with you for—"
"Go, Vercetti."
I flipped open the dashboard compartment.
Pulled out a secure earpiece.
Clipped it in.
"Keep the button live. I'll listen in. Every word. Every breath. You know the drill."
She paused on the line.
"...You're still going to Selene's?"
"I'm driving to my death."
"You mean your doom?"
"Same thing. Just scented like vanilla lotion and desperation."
She snorted softly.
"I'm so sorry."
"No, you're not."
"Okay, yeah I'm not. You deserve it."
I pulled out of the lot, smooth.
"Just make Marco talk. Keep him comfortable. Feed him back his own ego. If he brings up names, money, or territory—don't push. Let him reveal."
Valentina exhaled.
"You'll be listening?"
"Always."
"And if Selene attacks?"
"I'll hold the door."
On the road, 4:37 PM. SUV cruising.
The city passed in blurs.
Skyscrapers, stoplights, reflections across the glass.
Inside the car?
Silence—except for Marco's voice streaming in crystal-clear through my earpiece.
"I'm tightening our South Asia pipeline. Singapore's cooperating less. I want you to lead the next transfer. You've been soft lately, Valentina. I want you sharp again."
I heard her fake a sigh.
"Understood. Who's handling Jakarta?"
Marco didn't answer immediately.
"...Why do you care about Jakarta?"
Valentina covered perfectly.
"Because you told me not to trust Lucian, and he's the one who did the last paperwork there. I'm making sure your warning stuck."
He grunted.
Smart.
I smiled to myself, one hand resting near the steering wheel.
She was getting so good at this.
I turned the corner.
Selene's penthouse building came into view.
I sighed.
"God help me."
Valentina's voice popped in.
"You there?"
"Just arrived."
"Stay safe."
"I'm not the one being interrogated."
"No. You're the one about to get licked by a 4'10 stalker with boundary issues and a hoodie kink."
"...Good luck with Marco."
"GOOD LUCK WITH SURVIVING THE TINY HELLHOUND."
I hung up.
Took a breath.
Pulled into the driveway.
And muttered:
"Showtime."
Selene's Penthouse, 4:52 PM.
I stood at the entrance.
Top floor.
Glass walls. Custom rooftop. No neighbors.
The bell glowed soft blue.
I sighed once.
Then pressed it.
Ding.
Not even three seconds passed.
BOOM.
The door slammed open.
Selene stood there.
Tiny.
Unhinged.
Barefoot. Hoodie down to her thighs—my hoodie.
Face flushed.
Eyes wide.
And breathing like she ran a marathon up the elevator shaft.
She didn't say a word.
She just stared.
At my face.
Then my chest.
Then my hips.
Then back up—barely.
"...Hi," I said flatly.
She opened her mouth.
Didn't speak.
Just wheezed once.
Then grabbed the doorframe like she needed to physically restrain herself from leaping.
"I—y-you—you rang the bell—like a housewife—and you—you—HAVE A HOODIE ON—I'M GOING TO—"
"Please don't."
"—I'M GOING TO EXPLODE."
She was vibrating.
Actually vibrating.
"I cleaned. I lit a candle. I vacuumed. I put on lip balm. I shaved the hairs above my vagina.
I even washed my hands. Twice."
I blinked.
"You washed your hands?"
"FOR YOU."
She reached forward—
Paused.
Looked like she was about to cry.
"...You actually came."
I stepped in.
Door shut behind me.
Locked.
"Yeah," I said softly. "I said I would."
She covered her mouth.
Let out a tiny noise like a puppy seeing God.
Then ran.
Full speed.
Straight into my chest.
Jumped.
I caught her on instinct.
She wrapped her legs around my waist.
"I'M SO GAY RIGHT NOW."
"I can tell."
She inhaled against my hoodie.
"You smell like dominance and tax fraud."
"...Put you down?" I muttered.
"No."
She clung tighter.
"I missed you all day. I kept checking cameras. I hacked your hallway cam. I watched you fix your shoelace."
"You're insane."
"I'm tiny. Let me live."
And so I stood there—
Holding a 4'10 human in my arms,
who may or may not hump me to death from joy.
And this?
This was only the beginning.
...
Selene's Penthouse. 5:06 PM.
I peeled Selene off my chest like she was an adorable feral backpack.
Set her gently on the couch.
She instantly curled into a little ball, hugging a throw pillow, legs kicking in the air.
I sat down at the marble island.
Pulled out my phone.
Mission mode back on.
One text to Valentina.
ME:
Ask Marco: "What about the orphan slut?" Exactly those words. No emotion. Mid-convo. Timing has to be perfect. Make him show his hand.
Three dots appeared immediately.
VALENTINA:
On it. (P.S. You still owe me abs later.)
I muted notifications and switched my focus.
Selene crawled closer like a cat, nose twitching.
"Whatcha doing?"
"Listening," I muttered.
Tapped the earpiece live.
Marco's voice came through crystal clear.
"Jakarta pipeline needs cleaning. Money's bottlenecked in Singapore. Europe is still unstable after the leak. But once we move the—"
Then Valentina's voice, perfect timing.
Soft. Innocent.
"What about the orphan slut?"
Silence.
Marco laughed.
Dark.
Nasty.
"That little bitch? She's still alive somehow."
Selene pressed her ear against my arm, listening like a tiny soldier.
Marco kept talking.
"I'm letting her think she won. Let her feel safe. I've got a team shadowing her. When the time's right? We're gonna make her disappear."
He chuckled.
Low and evil.
"I promised Valentina once: you don't waste trash, you recycle it. She'll be useful before the end."
Selene twitched violently.
She started whispering in rapid-fire gibberish beside me.
"Deploy the micro nukes—no wait, hack his pacemaker—no wait, crash his crypto wallets—NO—get the rats inside his toilet tanks and flood his bed with rabid hamsters—"
I placed a hand on her head.
She immediately melted under my palm like a cat being blessed by God.
"Calm down."
"But he's calling you recyclable! YOU'RE A NATIONAL TREASURE. I WILL COMMIT WAR CRIMES."
I tapped my phone, logging the convo.
"Let him talk."
Marco's voice dropped lower.
"Let her roam around thinking she's free. No one's gonna want a broken little orphan once we're done with her."
Selene started hissing beside me.
"I'M GONNA CODE A VIRUS THAT MAKES HIS BANK ACCOUNT PLAY 'I'M A LOSER' EVERY TIME HE CHECKS IT."
I muted her with another headpat.
She whined quietly but leaned in closer.
5:11 PM.
Valentina sent another text under the table:
VALENTINA:
He's planning something soon. He's getting impatient. Details are vague. He thinks surveillance is still clean.
I replied:
ME:
Good. Keep him confident. If he thinks I'm stupid, I'm untouchable.
I sat back.
Hoodie loose.
Breath steady.
Across from me?
Selene vibrating like she was about to code a missile strike using only her toes.
And above it all?
The feeling that this?
This was the final calm before I took Marco Vercetti's empire apart brick by brick.
Selene's Penthouse. 5:19 PM.
The voice in my earpiece was venom.
Marco wasn't holding back anymore.
Not behind closed doors.
"She's lucky she's still breathing. That little orphan slut thinks she's clever. Thinks she's safe."
He laughed.
"We'll grab her. Quiet. Drag her somewhere no one can find. And we won't kill her. Not yet."
My grip tightened on the tablet.
Selene was curled up in a chair next to me, hoodie hood over her head, sipping orange soda and glaring at the waveform display like she was going to eat it.
Marco continued.
"We'll spend a year breaking her. No mirrors. No light. No name. Just pain. Strip her down to the truth. A reminder that power doesn't belong to strays."
I leaned forward.
Eyes locked on the screen.
Still silent.
Still calm.
"Then, when she's begging for the end, we'll film it. Every second. Cut it into a story. A masterpiece. Let the world see what happens when you fuck with the Vercetti name."
Selene twitched violently.
Her laptop fans started screaming.
She was typing gibberish into command lines like:
initiate_protocol(ur_mom_69).exefuckery()
Marco's final line came through.
"And then? Sell her. Whatever she's worth. Twenty bucks if we're lucky. Or dump her in the trash she came from."
That was it.
The trigger.
The final line.
I leaned back in the chair.
Crossed my legs.
Lifted the mic.
"Bingo."
Selene gasped.
She turned toward me, face pale, eyes sharp.
"You're gonna let him say that to your face?"
I smirked.
"I'm gonna let him say all of it."
Then I stood.
Pulled my hoodie off.
Black bra. Abs. Collarbone sharp enough to kill.
Selene promptly dropped her soda.
"I'm building a virus that will replace all his porn with pictures of compost and moldy cheese—"
I raised a hand.
"Focus."
She nodded, shook out her tiny arms, and sat up straight.
Five screens on.
I walked to the whiteboard.
Grabbed the red marker.
And under Phase 1 and Phase 2?
I wrote:
PHASE 3: PUBLIC EXECUTION (of a legacy, not a person... yet)
Selene whispered like a tiny warlock:
"...I have a list of five mayors, three international bank heads, and two of Marco's dummy company lawyers we can take out in less than a week."
I grinned.
"Perfect. Start with the bank heads."
She cracked her knuckles.
"Time to delete some old white men."
And just like that?
Operation Collapse had begun.
Selene's Penthouse. 5:47 PM.
Selene rolled out the scanner pod.
Sleek. Black. Glowing.
Meant to detect microtrackers, toxins, any hidden tech that Marco's team might've planted back when they had the chance.
Necessary.
Non-negotiable.
And required full skin-to-skin scan.
I peeled my hoodie off first.
Selene immediately dropped her tablet.
I sighed.
"Selene."
She stood stiffly like a squirrel seeing God.
"I'm—I'm okay. I'm FINE. I can do this. Professional. Tiny. Focused."
Then came the bra.
The leggings.
The last layer.
Gone.
I stood there.
Fully naked.
Muscle lines catching the golden light.
Smooth. Powerful. Perfect.
Selene's brain blue-screened.
She made a tiny whimper noise and hugged a pillow so hard it nearly burst.
Her face went beet red.
Eyes wide like saucers.
And her gaze?
Landed straight between my thighs.
She whispered like a cursed medieval monk.
"...it's so pretty."
I blinked.
"...Selene."
"I—I didn't know it could look like—like heaven built a secret portal just for me—"
My earpiece crackled.
Valentina's voice exploded through.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WHY IS SHE SEEING YOUR PUSSY BEFORE ME????"
I didn't flinch.
Tapped my ear calmly.
"Cleanse scan. No other way. Need full body check to make sure no microtrackers were planted during previous raids."
Selene whimpered and scribbled something that looked suspiciously like "MARRY HER" into her tablet.
Valentina texted.
VALENTINA:
I'M LITERALLY CUMMING THROUGH THIS FUCKING EARPIECE RN I SWEAR TO GOD I CAN'T TAKE IT
VALENTINA:
PUT CLOTHES BACK ON RIGHT NOW OR I'M DROPPING OUT OF SCHOOL TO CLAIM YOU IN FRONT OF THE FBI
I stayed completely professional.
ME:
Focus. We're at war. Not a porno.
VALENTINA:
IT'S A WAR IN MY PANTIES RIGHT NOW.
The scanner beeped.
I walked into the pod.
Calm.
Bare.
Powerful.
While behind me?
Selene started violently fanning herself with a clipboard.
And across town?
Valentina was having a spiritual breakdown against her math textbook.
And me?
I was still thinking—
Phase 3. Collapse.
Phase 4. Freedom.
Phase 5. Whatever comes after.
But first?
Maybe pants.
Maybe.