Chapter 20
Midnight Execution: T-minus 2 hours.
9:56 PM. Gym. Downtown West Sector.
I wasn't supposed to be here.
I should've been finalizing my midnight upload—
the synthetic transfer that would make Marco Vercetti believe the UN Bank had just handed him the future.
Instead?
I was shirtless. Bra on. in front of a gym mirror, staring at my abs like they were someone else's.
Which... technically, they were.
The abs belonged to Anna Maricella.
The body I spent years building under moonlight and hunger.
The strength I earned before anyone gave me a second glance.
But tonight?
It was Emily Stonebrook who was sweating in poverty shoes and a hoodie that hadn't seen detergent since '02.
I pulled the hoodie up.
Camera app open.
Mirror story snapped.
Muscles tight.
Abs carved.
Arms flexed just enough to scare a powerlifter into therapy.
Posted it to @stonebrook.exe.
No caption.
Why?
Because I still didn't understand how the caption thing worked.
Do I click the screen? Tap the corner? Swipe?
Who knows.
One thing about me: I can dismantle governments, but I cannot post like a influencer.
(One word for me: ?????♂?)
Five minutes later, my phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Then it went absolutely feral.
Girls.
Girls.
Girls.
And more girls.
All texting like their souls just left their bodies through their fingertips.
And thanks to the patch I personally installed into Instagram's API...
I could see how many times each one screenshot my story.
Screenshot Leaderboard:
Bella: 17 screenshots
Aria: 13 screenshots
Selene: 42 screenshots (and she lives with me???)
Jasmine: 11 screenshots
Bella's Mom: 21 screenshots
Pause.
Bella's Mom??
I opened her DM.
Bella's Mom:
EMILY.
BE HONEST.
ARE YOU INTERESTED IN MILFS.
I CAN BAKE.
I CAN CLEAN.
I CAN COOK.
I AM 5'2.
YOU CAN USE ME AS A TABLE IF NEEDED.
Bella's Mom:
I HAVE SEVERAL FERTILE DAUGHTERS BUT I AM OPEN TO SKIPPING TO THE MAIN COURSE (ME).
MY GOD.
I WOULD MARRY YOU TONIGHT.
DO YOU DO MIDNIGHT WEDDINGS.
I AM AVAILABLE.
Then Bella.
Bella:
HELLO???
WHY IS MY MOM SCREAMING
WHY ARE YOU HOT
WHY ARE YOU POSTING THINGS WITH NO CONTEXT
I'M IN TEARS
SHE JUST SAID SHE'D SACRIFICE ME FOR A DATE WITH YOU
Aria:
I AM ON MY KNEES IN THE TARGET PARKING LOT
DO YOU UNDERSTAND
MY FRIEND SAID "YOU LOOK STRONG"
I SAID "NO SHE LOOKS LIKE THE APOCALYPSE IN A CROP TOP"
Selene:
YOU POSTED A STORY
WITHOUT TELLING ME
WITHOUT WARNING ME
WITHOUT A CAPTION
WITHOUT A TRIGGER WARNING FOR PURE HOTNESS
I AM RIGHT DOWNSTAIRS
AND I HAVE SCREENSHOTTED IT 42 TIMES
AND I AM NOT OKAY
I was quiet for a moment.
Wiped the sweat from my collarbone.
Then replied to all of them.
Emily (stonebrook.exe):
Gym's open.
Drop by if you want.
Bring snacks.
I dropped the location pin.
My phone buzzed again.
Feral screaming.
Typing sounds.
Bella's mom saying she was bringing a lemon cake and divorce papers.
I sighed.
Closed the phone.
Looked at myself in the mirror again.
I didn't recognize her.
This hot, dumbass alter ego who forgets how to add captions but somehow breaks the internet with no words.
I had a mission to execute at midnight.
But first?
I was probably gonna go bench press trauma for another 30 minutes.
And maybe hide from Bella's mom.
Marcos Vercetti's Estate. On Foot. 11:21 PM.
I walked alone.
City behind me.
Mission in front.
Midnight meeting planned, fake progress folder tucked under my arm, and abs still glistening from the gym like betrayal-flavored body armor.
One earbud in.
Silent.
Focused.
My phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Then violently like it was trying to escape my pocket.
I sighed and answered.
"Yes?"
"WHAT. THE. FUCK."
Valentina's voice blasted through the line like a slap made of lip gloss and bullets.
"You posted that story without telling me—WITHOUT TELLING ME—do you know what that did to me? I saw ABS. I saw SWEAT. I saw SHADOWS. I saw GOD. And I screenshotted it FIFTY-TWO FUCKING TIMES."
I opened the IG patch mid-call.
Stonebrook.exe Story Screenshot Leaderboard:
Valentina Vercetti: 52 screenshots
Selene: 42
Bella's Mom: 21
Aria: 13
"Fifty-two. That's... impressive."
"SHUT UP," she growled. "You can't just drop your body like a war crime onto the internet and then WALK AWAY. Do you even know what you did to me? I started pacing the estate. I punched a pillow. I bit into a mango and it EXPLODED."
"I texted you I was going to the gym."
"YOU DIDN'T SAY YOU'D GO LIKE THAT."
I paused.
Stepped onto the estate's outer walkway.
"Focus," I said. "I'm arriving at your father's estate now."
Silence.
Then a sharp inhale.
"You're WHAT?"
"I'm executing the plan."
Valentina's voice cracked.
"But I—I don't have a dress—I didn't do my eyeliner—what if I look like a pathetic mafia disappointment—"
"Valentina."
"WHAT IF HE SEES ME AND THINKS I LOOK LIKE AN UNTOASTED BAGEL—"
"Valentina."
"WHAT IF I SPIRAL AND TRIP AND FALL INTO A VASE—"
"You don't need a dress."
Pause.
"You need a bad girl outfit."
She froze.
"I—I—what?"
"Because the orphan scholarship slut is coming," I said calmly. "Not the woman you're marrying. Not the future world leader. Not Anna Maricella."
I walked through the estate gates.
Voice even.
Emotionless.
"I'm Emily fucking Stonebrook tonight. And I'm coming to your house. The house where your father is planning to kill me after our wedding."
She exhaled so hard the phone crackled.
"You're so hot," she whispered.
"Focus."
"I can't."
"Valentina."
"Yes?"
"Find your shortest skirt.
Your tightest top.
And meet me by the east corridor."
"...yes mommy."
Click.
I slipped the phone into my hoodie.
The wind picked up.
The estate loomed ahead.
And I smiled.
Because tonight?
Emily Stonebrook wasn't playing innocent anymore.
Vercetti Estate. Front Gate. 11:42 PM.
The cold iron gates stretched tall above me like the jaws of some prehistoric predator.
Two guards stepped out from the booth, dressed in sleek black suits, earpieces buzzing.
Their posture changed the second they got a clear look at me.
Glasses on. Hoodie up. Poverty aesthetic in full force.
The girl from the school halls.
The orphan.
One of them frowned.
The other blinked twice and gripped the side of his holster.
"Name?"
I looked up, cool and clear.
"Emily Stonebrook. I'm here to see Marco Vercetti."
They froze.
Tension turned violent.
"You what?"
"I said," I repeated, calm as a god,
"I'm looking for Marco Vercetti."
The two exchanged a look like I'd just announced I was here to steal their bones.
"Stay right there," one said, backing up toward the booth while the other stayed close—eyes never leaving me.
The one inside the booth hit the red line.
"Sir? Someone's at the front gate."
Pause.
"Name?"
"Emily Stonebrook."
Silence.
Then the rage erupted.
"WHO?!"
"WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT NAME?!"
"YOU LET HER ONTO MY PROPERTY—AFTER WHAT SHE DID TO MY MEN? AFTER SHE BURNED THEM ALIVE?!"
"IF SHE TAKES ONE STEP THROUGH THAT GATE—KILL HER."
I just stood there.
Hands in my pockets.
Blank expression.
The guard outside flinched as Marco's screaming poured through the comms.
"You need to leave," he snapped.
"Now. Before we drag you off this driveway."
I blinked.
Tilted my head slightly.
"Tell him..."
The guard hesitated.
I stepped forward just once.
And smiled.
"Tell him the orphan slut is back."
Vercetti Estate. Front Gate. 11:48 PM.
The guard moved first.
Too fast.
Too obvious.
I sidestepped.
Caught his wrist.
Snapped it.
Used his body as a pivot to hurl the second one into the stone pillar.
One hit the ground with a cry.
The other didn't move at all.
Silence.
I crouched, lifted the earpiece, tucked it into my ear like it was always mine.
Static.
Then the scream.
"—GET HER OUT—KILL HER—DRAG HER INTO THE GROUND—SHE DOESN'T STEP ON MY PROPERTY—"
I stood up.
Brushed the dirt off my hoodie.
Walked five paces forward into the estate.
The swing set sat untouched in the outer garden.
White iron.
One chain broken.
The air smelled like roses and gunpowder.
I sat down.
Crossed my legs.
Pressed the button on the comms.
Spoke.
Calm. Even. Deadly.
"Hi, Mr. Vercetti."
Static.
Then silence.
He recognized the voice.
I leaned back.
The swing creaked softly beneath me.
"You sound stressed. That's not like you."
"Who the fuck—"
"I'm the girl your men tried to break a month ago."
Silence.
I rocked gently in the swing.
"I'm the orphan. The one you said wouldn't survive the night."
Breath caught on the line.
"I did."
Pause.
"I'm the nerd your daughter bullies at school. The freak. The joke. The charity case. The useless little slut."
My voice didn't waver once.
"And yet..."
I looked up at the moon.
Here it came.
"I'm the one sitting in your garden tonight."
The air changed.
Heavy. Dense. Like the estate could feel it.
"I didn't come with a gun. Or a crew. Or a plan to kill anyone."
I smiled.
"Not yet."
I could almost hear his teeth grinding.
"I came to talk."
Silence again.
So I leaned in.
Final blow. Soft as a whisper.
"Because I think the real question isn't how I got past your men, or why I'm still alive—"
I tilted my head.
"It's how the useless orphan slut became your biggest fucking problem."
Click.
Transmission off.
I left the earpiece in the dirt.
Stood up from the swing.
And walked into the estate.
Vercetti Estate. Outer Garden Path. 11:58 PM.
I'd just taken ten steps off the swing when I heard it.
The shift.
The command.
Marco's voice echoing through every guard's comms like a storm warning:
"Don't kill her. Bring her to me. I want to see the little bitch's face."
Cute.
I kept walking.
Three guards closed in from the sides like sharks—hands twitching, eyes twitchier.
And then, from the east wing?
Heels.
Black boots. Short skirt. Bad girl unlocked.
Valentina Vercetti.
Storming down the path like she hadn't just had a meltdown over not having a dress ten minutes ago.
Hair flawless.
Face flawless.
Mood? Unstable.
"YOU!"
She pointed at me like she was in a telenovela with a personal vendetta.
"YOU STUPID LITTLE NERD—WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"
I blinked.
The guards paused, confused.
She stormed over.
"You could've gotten yourself killed!"
She smacked my arm—fake, soft.
"You could've ruined everything!"
Another slap, even softer.
Then grabbed my hoodie like she was about to body me into the grass.
I leaned in.
"You done?"
She leaned in closer.
Whispered.
"I'm unfollowing you on Instagram."
I flinched.
"You wouldn't."
Her lips brushed my ear.
"Fifty-two screenshots and not ONE dm reply?
I hope your abs cramp during cardio.
I hope your hoodie strings tangle mid-pull.
I hope your protein shake EXPLODES in your bag."
I snorted.
She shoved me again.
"SHUT UP, STONEbrOOK. YOU'RE COMING WITH ME."
She turned to the guards.
"Marco wants her? I'll bring her."
They didn't even question it.
She dragged me by the wrist, fully fake-fuming, muttering curses under her breath.
I whispered as we neared the corridor—
"You're into this."
"I'm gonna bite your neck."
"That's a threat."
"It's a promise."
She yanked my hoodie harder.
"You're lucky you're hot," she hissed.
"Or I'd throw you off a balcony."
"Which one?"
"All of them."
"Dramatic."
"I'm Italian."
We stepped inside the marble corridor.
Guards flanking us.
Camera overhead.
Valentina shoved me against the wall gently and shouted:
"IF YOU EMBARRASS ME IN FRONT OF MY FATHER, I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL—"
She leaned in again.
Whispered directly into my ear:
"I'm going to sit on your face until you beg for political asylum."
I choked.
She smiled sweetly at the camera.
Then yanked my arm again.
"LET'S GO, ORPHAN."
And just like that—
the world's deadliest nerd got escorted to her enemy by the world's horniest mafia princess.
Vercetti Estate. Inner Chamber. 12:07 AM.
I walked in.
Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Oil paintings of men who'd never deserved legacy.
Marco sat at the far end of the room, arms spread on his throne-like chair.
Gold watch.
Black suit.
Expression? Pure disgust.
Valentina flanked me.
Tight-lipped.
One hand clutching her phone inside her jacket pocket—thumb clearly texting something feral.
Guards lined the walls.
Cameras in every corner.
I could feel them.
Selene was definitely watching.
Definitely screaming.
I took three steps forward.
Didn't bow.
Didn't hesitate.
Just stood there—Emily Stonebrook, orphan, nerd, charity case.
No armor. No bodyguards.
Only my voice.
"Mr. Vercetti," I said calmly, "I came to make a deal."
Marco scoffed.
"The fuck does a scholarship brat have to offer me?"
Valentina made a dramatic gasp noise.
"DADDY she said deal, you can't say brat right away—"
He ignored her.
"You're lucky I didn't shoot you on sight."
I nodded.
"I expected worse."
He leaned forward, eyes narrow.
"Say your piece."
I inhaled once.
Let the fire settle in my lungs.
Then spoke.
"Call off your dogs at school."
He blinked.
"If you want me gone? Fine. I'll disappear.
I'll stay out of your daughter's way. I'll keep my head down.
But no more laughing when I walk into a room.
No more whispers about adoption.
No more teachers pretending I don't exist.
No more girls waiting in the bathroom to throw food at me. "
His jaw clenched.
"Is that a threat?"
I met his eyes.
"No. That's the deal."
He leaned back.
Laughed.
A cold, bitter sound.
And then the venom came.
"You think I care about some fucking private school food fight? My empire was built on power. Intimidation. Fear. You know what fear looks like to a teenager? Poverty. Weakness. Orphans."
I stared straight through him.
He gestured wide.
"My daughter didn't bully you on her own.
She was taught.
By me.
By this family.
Because if the rich don't remind the poor who's in control—this world gets soft.
Rotten.
Equal."
He stood now.
"Do you know what your story teaches my clients?
That charity creates rebellion.
That letting a dog inside the mansion makes it bark."
Valentina cleared her throat loudly.
"I think she barks kinda hot—"
"Valentina."
She smiled.
"Sorry."
I kept my gaze locked.
Didn't blink.
Didn't twitch.
"You're not mad I came here," I said.
"You're mad I survived."
His face twitched.
"You were supposed to break."
"But I didn't."
"You were supposed to beg."
"But I didn't."
"You were supposed to die."
"But I didn't."
I stepped forward, slow and steady.
"And now you're standing in the same room as the useless orphan slut, trying to remember how to breathe."
Silence.
Valentina beside me?
Grinning like she was at a concert.
Her phone buzzed.
I caught a glimpse of the screen.
Tiny Demons GC (Live)
Selene:
I'M WATCHING THE SECURITY FEED
I'M GOING TO COMBUST
SHE'S SPEAKING LIKE A GOD
I'M FERAL
I'M THROWING THINGS
I'M BARKING
I'M WRITING FANFIC IN REAL TIME
I AM LICKING MY SCREEN
Marco's fists clenched.
"You think just because you made it back to my estate you've won something?"
I smiled.
"No. I think I've started something."
Behind my back, Valentina whispered under her breath:
"If he kicks you out I'm gonna sneak you into my room and let you use my thigh as a pillow while I apologize with kisses."
I coughed once.
Marco didn't notice.
He just stared at me—this orphan in a discount hoodie, standing in his empire, rewriting the rules.
And I just stood there.
Still Emily.
Still orphan.
But no longer invisible.