Chapter 19
Northvale. Janitor's Closet. Lunch Break. 12:32 PM.
It was cramped.
Dusty.
Smelled like bleach, broken pencils, and whatever hell spray they used to keep boys from graffitiing the urinals.
I leaned against the metal shelf.
Door shut.
Lights off.
Just the glow from the security panel above the mop bucket.
And her?
Valentina Vercetti.
Back pressed against the wall.
Hair messed up from rushing in here.
Lip bitten raw.
Still wearing the same black skirt from earlier—
only now?
There was a very obvious situation happening in said skirt.
She glared at me.
"This is a setup," she snapped. "You—this is emotional warfare. And slutcraft. That's what this is."
I raised an eyebrow.
"You broke character."
Valentina looked personally offended.
"I didn't break character. I—glitched. There's a difference."
"Mm-hmm."
She pointed a finger at me like it had magical powers.
"You're not supposed to be this hot. You were supposed to be a nerd. You were supposed to be bullied. I had lines. I had timing. I had a whole dramatic monologue written in my Notes app—"
"You stuttered for twelve full seconds."
"I—I had a stroke. That doesn't count!"
I tilted my head.
"You said 'Jesus fucking Christ I need ice water, my phone is vibrating and I am too.'"
Valentina's face went crimson.
"That was PRIVATE THOUGHTS. Those weren't meant to be heard."
"You said them out loud."
She slapped her hand over her face and groaned.
"This is your fault."
"How?"
She gestured to me like my existence was a felony.
"Your hoodie is a LIE. You look like a fucking goddess cosplaying as a depressed scholarship student. I'm reporting you to the authorities."
I smirked. Just a little.
She narrowed her eyes.
"I swear to God, if you show up like that again, I'm calling Selene for backup. I'm serious. Tiny 4'10 of death and possession. She'll jump you with a fork. Aria and Bella will hold you down while she bites your ankles."
"Sounds like a lot of effort."
"She once tackled a girl for short circuiting on your photo. This would be justified."
I stepped closer.
Her breath hitched.
And she didn't move.
Only thing that moved was her thigh twitching slightly against the closet wall.
I looked her up and down. Calm. Quiet.
Then down again.
"You're still wet."
She flinched like I'd slapped her soul.
"I am—shut up—you can't just say that!"
"I can help."
Silence.
Then—
The Vercetti mafia princess, feared by every student in this school, let out the weakest, most pathetic sound on Earth:
"...No—don't—you can't—shut—shutshutshut—"
Her knees wobbled.
I leaned closer.
Voice barely above a whisper now.
"I'll help with it if you say please."
She looked like she might dissolve.
Her fingers grabbed my sleeve for stability, like she was genuinely about to fall over.
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Then, in the tiniest voice possible:
"I hate you."
But her legs wouldn't stop shaking.
Northvale. Janitor's Closet. 12:41 PM.
The door was still shut.
The air?
Sticky. Hot. Like it couldn't decide if it wanted to suffocate or seduce.
Valentina's back was flush against the mop sink now, thighs pressed tight, breath borderline criminal.
I stood in front of her. Calm. Leisurely.
Like I wasn't actively destroying her brain one sentence at a time.
Fingers trailing slow, lazy lines down her arm.
She flinched at every touch.
But never pulled away.
"You're still trembling," I whispered.
"You're lucky I'm being gentle."
"Y-you're not—this isn't gentle—this is cruelty—this is UN resolution level cruelty—"
I leaned in close.
Lips near her ear.
"You came in here still wet from this morning."
She whined.
A real one.
Tiny. Desperate. Borderline pornographic.
"Still are."
"STOP—saying things."
I smirked and brought my hand to her waistband.
Didn't move it.
Just rested it there.
"Poor little mafia princess can't handle some teasing?"
She whimpered again—so soft it could've been mistaken for a prayer.
I pulled back a little. Just enough to keep her breathless.
And then, as if I was flipping a switch, I spoke plainly:
"Anyway. About the plan."
She blinked.
Head against the wall. Brain lagging.
"I—I what—what?"
"I've got one month. That's how long Marco thinks I'll be gone. So now it will be a full month of Emily Stonebrook playing the harmless, bullied nerd. The tragic orphan. The nobody."
I traced my thumb in slow circles against her hipbone.
"And while he underestimates the orphan slut," I said coldly, "Anna Maricella will be giving him a headache so bad he'll be begging for a bullet."
Valentina blinked, still red in the face.
I kept going.
"Two roles to play.
One—Emily. The loser. The distraction. The one who eats lunch alone and gets her locker stuffed.
Two—Anna. The quiet god building her own empire while reporting fake progress to Marco. Giving him updates. Making him think he's winning."
I leaned in again.
"Every text he opens will be a lie. Every document he signs will tighten the noose around his own neck. Every sweet little report from his 'trusted girl' will be soaked in venom."
Valentina's breathing was shallow.
She still hadn't recovered from the earlier meltdown, and now her panties were ruined all over again.
She tried to speak.
Failed.
I kissed the side of her neck once.
Then whispered directly against her ear:
"And you?"
She swallowed.
"W-what about me?"
I smiled.
"I need you to be daddy's good little girl."
Valentina broke.
Straight-up broke.
Her knees buckled.
Head hit my shoulder.
Hands clutched my hoodie like it was her last tether to Earth.
"I—h-hate you—I swear—this is mental terrorism—I'm telling Selene—I'm gonna—gonna blackmail you into marrying me—"
I kissed her temple gently. So, so sweetly.
"Good girl."
And just like that—
she came undone again.
Northvale. Janitor's Closet. 12:59 PM.
The chaos was over.
At least, on the outside.
Inside?
Valentina had melted.
Fully.
Collapsed into my arms, buried against my neck like I was the last safe place on Earth.
No sass. No insults. No fake power games.
Just trembling breaths and quiet submission.
I slid down the wall with her, holding her in my lap.
Let her curl in tighter.
Her face nuzzled against my collarbone.
My hand moved slowly through her hair, fingers stroking in soft, patient patterns.
"You can stay here," I murmured.
"My next periods are free. Yours too."
She didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Just... nodded once.
And held on tighter.
Her phone buzzed behind my back.
I felt the screen press lightly into my hoodie.
She was texting. Quietly. Chaotically.
I didn't check.
Didn't need to.
Because I knew exactly who was on the other end of the meltdown.
PRIVATE DM
VALENTINA → SELENE
EMILY SAID I COULD STAY IN HER ARMS
I AM NEVER LEAVING
SHE'S PETTING MY HAIR LIKE I'M HER FAVORITE EXPENSIVE CAT
I AM HER FAVORITE EXPENSIVE CAT
I AM PURRING
SELENE → VALENTINA
SHUT THE FUCK UP
SHUT UP
I WILL BITE THROUGH A brICK WALL TO GET TO HER
I WILL UPROOT THE EARTH'S CRUST
I WILL DESTROY THE U.S. SCHOOL SYSTEM
VALENTINA → SELENE
SHE SMELLS LIKE HEAVEN AND HER COLLARBONE TASTES LIKE IMMORTALITY
I AM GOING TO DIE
SHE TOLD ME TO BE A GOOD GIRL AND I SHORT-CIRCUITED
SELENE → VALENTINA
I AM GOING TO FIGHT GOD
AND THE CASHIER AT WALMART
AND YOU
FOR THE RIGHT TO BE ON HER BOOB
VALENTINA → SELENE
YOU WILL HAVE TO KILL ME TO TAKE MY PLACE
I AM LOCKED IN
SHE SAID I CAN STAY
SHE SAID I CAN STAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
SELENE → VALENTINA
I AM OFFERING A BARGAIN
HALF THE DAY EACH
I GET AFTER SCHOOL
YOU GET SCHOOL HOURS
WE SPLIT WEEKENDS BASED ON WHO DRAWS BLOOD FIRST
VALENTINA → SELENE
DEAL
BUT IF YOU EVER KISS HER HAND IN FRONT OF ME
I WILL BURN YOUR BEDROOM
SELENE → VALENTINA
IF I GET TO BE THE SPOON EVEN ONCE
YOU'RE DONE
Behind me, Valentina let out a breathy giggle into my shoulder.
I said nothing.
Just kissed the top of her head—
and let them fight their war behind my back.
Maricella Penthouse. After School. 4:03 PM.
The front door sealed behind me with a soft click.
Shoes off. Hoodie on the rack.
Silence.
I walked past the modern glass staircase, ignoring the skyline bleeding gold behind the windows.
Straight to my room.
Desk lamp on.
Tablet unlocked.
UN Banking System folders—open.
Of course, none of it was real.
Stage Three of the plan required detail, not truth.
Marco would be updated in a few hours, and he'd praise me again for things I never actually did.
He trusted me completely.
Fool.
My fingers tapped across the screen in calm, fluid strokes.
Then—
"WHERE IS THE SPRAY THAT MAKES ME SMELL LIKE A TINY ANGEL PRINCESS WITH MONEY?!"
Pause.
Silence.
"I SWEAR IF I SMELL LIKE DUST AND FLOOR POLISH WHEN I CUDDLE HER, I WILL JUMP OUT THE PENTHOUSE WINDOW AND CLIMB BACK UP JUST TO TRY AGAIN."
I exhaled slowly.
Didn't look up.
Footsteps thundered upstairs like a very small war was taking place in the master bathroom.
"EXCUSE ME WHY IS THIS SCENT 'LEMON ZEST' I'M NOT TRYING TO SMELL LIKE KITCHEN SOAP I NEED 'DEADLY ROSE INFUSION WITH FAIRY SPARKLES' DO YOU HAVE THAT OR NOT?!"
The maids tried to answer.
Failed.
More yelling.
Drawers slammed.
Perfume bottles clinked violently.
Hairbrushes flew.
I stayed focused.
Fake UN Bank Heist Simulation:
67% complete.
Phase 2 Decoy Funds routed to Vercetti shell companies.
"Beautiful," I murmured.
Then—
Footsteps.
Slamming down the stairs.
And then, the impact.
WHUMP.
Tiny arms wrapped around my neck like a rocket-powered octopus.
Legs clinging to my waist.
Her entire body launched like she'd been shot from a cannon straight into my lap.
"EMILYYYYYY," she whined into my neck. "DO I SMELL OKAY PLEASE TELL ME I SMELL LIKE A TINY EXPENSIVE FAIRY WHO DESERVES YOUR AFFECTION—"
I didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
Just adjusted my screen to avoid whacking her in the head.
"Selene."
"Yes?!"
I stared dead ahead at my tablet.
"You have five options."
"Okay???"
"My laptop needs a table."
A beat of silence.
"Would you like me to use your head, your face, your back, your stomach, or your tiny, ridiculous little booty?"
She blinked.
Silence.
Then the faintest breath:
"Can I... can I pick tummy? Please?"
I shifted the tablet instantly.
Rested it across her torso like she was a tiny luxury throw pillow.
"Congratulations," I muttered. "You're the most dramatic laptop stand in recorded history."
"I deserve a kiss every ten minutes as payment."
"Done."
"And head pats."
"Obviously."
"And if I melt, that's your fault."
"I'll catch you."
She sighed.
Content.
Wriggled once into place.
Then lay there.
Perfectly still.
Like a tiny, expensive angel table.
I kept working.
And let her stay.
Maricella Penthouse. Emily's Room. 4:37 PM.
Tablet balanced.
Keys tapping.
Target: Vercetti shell corp in Zurich, masked under a children's charity.
Laptop resting perfectly stable on top of the smallest chaos demon alive.
Selene lay underneath—flat on her back, arms clinging around my waist like a seatbelt on an emotional rollercoaster.
Her hoodie slightly lifted.
Bare stomach rising and falling beneath the weight of a billion-dollar world domination device.
She was vibrating.
Half from excitement.
Half from being the most spoiled tech support princess in mafia history.
"Okay," she whispered, breath hitching, "click the third subdirectory. No—not that one—the one that says 'Hope Initiative'—it's fake, just like his morals. Delete everything. Now paste the tracker in."
I followed.
Selene's voice wobbled as she kept going.
"Okay next... you wanna reroute the bitcoin vault keys into the shadow folder marked with—OH MY GOD I JUST REMEMBERED I'M YOUR LAPTOP TABLE I'M GONNA SCREAM—"
I didn't even flinch.
Just scratched her tummy once, slow and soft, while typing with the other hand.
She squeaked.
Tiny whimper.
Then full tiny demon meltdown mode activated.
Tiny Demons GC
Selene → Aria, Bella, Jasmine, Kira
I AM A TABLE
I AM THE TABLE
I AM UNDER HER LAPTOP
SHE IS SCRATCHING MY TUMMY WHILE HACKING A GLOBAL BANK
I AM ASCENDING
I AM VIbrATING
I AM SWEATING OUT STRAWBERRY-SCENTED HOLY WATER
Selene → Tiny Demons GC
I DEMAND
A KISS
EVERY FOUR MINUTES
AND A BOOBIE SCRATCH
EVERY FOUR MINUTES
OR I WILL BITE THE ENTIRE FLOORBOARD SYSTEM OF THIS PENTHOUSE
Selene → Tiny Demons GC
IF SHE FORGETS
I WILL CLIMB ONTO THE ROOF
AND PROJECT MY TINY FERAL LOVE ONTO THE MOON
THROUGH CODE
AND VIOLENCE
Bella:
Girl are you okay—
Selene:
NO
I AM IN LOVE
I AM IN NEED
I AM A FUCKING DELL MONITOR STAND AND I'M GONNA EXPLODE
She tugged at my sleeve.
Voice barely keeping it together.
"Four minutes."
I leaned down.
Pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
Gave her another slow scratch along her side, right under her ribs.
She arched slightly.
Then sagged like a ragdoll full of static.
Whimpered.
"Okay," she breathed. "Now click the fourth file. That's where his private jet routes are. We're gonna reroute his location pings to match a delivery truck in Kazakhstan."
"Got it."
"And after that," she whispered, "can you tell me I'm your favorite laptop stand?"
I didn't even hesitate.
"You're the only one I'll ever use."
She physically short-circuited under me.
Arms squeezing.
Legs kicking.
Mouth fully open in a silent scream.
Her phone buzzed beside us.
Tiny Demons GC
Selene:
SHE SAID I'M THE ONLY ONE
I'M THE ONLY ONE
I AM THE LAPTOP STAND OF DESTINY
I AM HER TABLE
HER FURNITURE
HER DEMON THRONE
And I?
I just kept typing.
Because global empires fall best when you're using the softest table in the world.
Maricella Penthouse. Emily's Room. 6:18 PM.
The air was quieter now.
Selene had passed out across my lap, one hand still clutched around my sleeve like a territorial baby kitten.
The chaos of the Tiny Demons GC war was over (for now), her crown firmly self-assigned.
Her breathing was soft.
Gentle.
Perfect distraction.
I slid the laptop off her stomach and onto the desk.
Then picked up the encrypted burner phone beside me.
Dialed.
Two rings.
"Ms. Maricella," Marco's voice came through smooth. Grateful. Relaxed.
Like a man who truly believed his fortune was secure.
"Mr. Vercetti," I replied evenly. "I thought I'd update you on the progress."
"Oh?"
"The European consolidation project is ahead of schedule.
Acquisitions in Zurich, Geneva, and the Liechtenstein vaults have completed integration.
Old money. New money. Shadow shares.
All transferred."
"Excellent," Marco murmured. "You've done wonders, Miss. Maricella. Truly."
I stayed silent. Let him speak.
"I trust the UN Systems link is still being masked?"
"Naturally."
"And the old routes?"
"Covered by enough front companies to make it look like a Russian shell game."
Marco laughed.
"I knew you were special."
I let the silence hang.
He took the bait.
"Have you... spoken to Valentina?"
"Not since this morning," I said. "She seemed well."
"She's attached to you, you know," he chuckled darkly.
"And with good reason. You're powerful. Dangerous. Exactly what I need."
My expression didn't change.
"I'll keep you updated tomorrow, Mr. Vercetti."
"I look forward to it."
Click.
Maricella Penthouse. Emily's Room. 7:04 PM.
I waited.
Thirty minutes. No rush.
Selene still curled in the blanket beside me, now hugging a pillow that had once been mine.
Then—
I plugged in.
Tunneled through five proxy walls.
No motion detected.
Audio signal clear.
Marco Vercetti's Office — Live Feed.
He was seated alone at his desk.
But not for long.
Another man appeared on camera—greedy eyes, silk suit, that fake laughter you only hear from men who profit off war.
They shook hands.
And Marco began.
"She's doing everything I wanted," he said.
"She thinks she's winning. Thinks she's independent."
The other man laughed.
"She doesn't suspect?"
"No. Anna Maricella is smart, yes. But love is always a weakness.
She cares too much.
That's why she walked into this trap willingly."
My hands didn't move.
I just listened.
"Once the final assets are secured," Marco continued, "we expedite the wedding.
I'll pre-pone it.
No more delays.
Let the world think it's a celebration—while I prepare the knife."
"And after?"
"After I have full access to her empire," Marco said, swirling a drink.
"Her accounts. Her holdings. Her satellites. Her networks.
We kill her."
"Kill her?" the other man laughed. "Is that possible?"
Marco's eyes narrowed.
"She won't go down easy.
But she's just an clueless slut at the end of the day.
Alone. Desperate.
And predictable."
My screen crackled slightly.
Then a voice behind me.
Tiny.
Shaking.
Feral.
"He just called you a slut," Selene whispered, standing behind me.
Eyes wide. Hands balled into fists.
Hair still half a mess from cuddling but fury in her bones.
"He just said he's gonna kill you."
"I heard," I replied calmly.
She stared at the screen.
Breathing fast.
"No."
"No?" I asked.
"No," she growled.
"I will end him."
She was shaking.
"I will fry every camera in that building.
I will delete his passwords.
I will fill his smart fridge with viruses.
I will make his bidet play 'WAP' every time he sits.
I will turn his bank account into a fan page for titty pics."
She paused.
Then hissed.
"No one calls you an clueless slut.
Not on my watch."
I smirked.
Eyes still locked on Marco's smug face through the screen.
"Let him believe it," I murmured.
Selene blinked.
"He thinks I fell into his trap."
I tilted my head.
"He doesn't realize he just walked into mine."
Maricella Penthouse. Emily's Room. 8:11 PM.
She was still shaking.
Tiny 4'10 demon wrapped around my arm, trembling with too many emotions and too little surface area to hold them all.
"She called me a slut," she whispered again.
Eyes wide. Face flushed. Voice breathless.
"I did," I murmured.
Her pupils blew wide.
I kissed her.
Not soft.
Not sweet.
Not the kind of kiss meant to be remembered.
The kind meant to ruin.
Her body curled instantly—hands grabbing my shirt like she thought the world might fall out from under her.
Her lips parted.
Just enough.
I spat into her mouth.
She moaned.
Soft. Angelic. Broken.
I caught her before she melted.
One hand down her back, the other slipping over her waistband, slow enough to be felt—firm enough to remind her she was mine.
Fingers pressing once, twice—right into her pussy.
She gasped.
"Emily—"
I kissed her again, deeper this time.
Slower.
Marked her lips like scripture.
Then pulled back, whispering low against her ear:
"I'll be back late."
She whined.
"You can eat without me."
"No—"
"Be a good girl."
She whimpered again.
"I need to be Emily Stonebrook for a while."
I stepped back.
Grabbed the hoodie.
Old shoes. Glasses. Poverty disguise in full form.
Selene stood there frozen.
Red cheeks. Wet mouth.
Barely breathing.
I reached over one last time.
Tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
And whispered:
"Stay safe, my little halo muffin."
Selene combusted.
Tiny Demons GC
Selene:
SHE CALLED ME HALO MUFFIN
HALO
FUCKING
MUFFIN
Selene:
SHE SPIT IN MY MOUTH
I AM PREGNANT
I AM EMOTIONALLY IMPREGNATED
Selene:
I NEED DIAPERS
I NEED SUPPORT
I NEED TO BARK
Bella:
STOP
NOT THE MUFFIN
Aria:
I CAN'T HANDLE THIS
Jasmine:
DID SHE SAY IT LIKE—REAL SLOW??
BECAUSE I MIGHT THROW MYSELF INTO A POOL
Selene:
SHE WORE THE POVERTY HOODIE
SHE SAID "I'LL BE BACK LATE" LIKE SHE'S BATWOMAN
I AM HER brIDE
I AM HER LAPTOP
I AM HER EVERYTHING
Outside the penthouse?
I walked down the block.
Glasses low.
Shoes cheap.
The world saw a quiet little nerd.
No one knew I was five steps away from stealing the world.