My hands were shaking.
I didn't even notice at first. My fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white, nails digging into my palms hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out everything but the words Mia had just spoken.
"He says it's because of that stupid game you play."
'Evan. That bastard.'
I forced myself to take a breath, but it didn't help. My mind raced, replaying every interaction I'd ever had with him. His fake smiles. His perfect, polished demeanor. The way he always seemed too good to be true. And now, I knew why.
I had always thought something was off about him.
I just never imagined he'd do something like this.
Mia let out another bitter laugh from behind the closed door. "He says I should 'just accept it.' That it's 'natural.' Can you believe that?"
No. No, I couldn't.
But at the same time, I could.
Because that's exactly what the game taught.
In Academy of Roses, Cassius Lancaster was a joke. A man whose suffering wasn't just ignored—it was celebrated. The protagonist stole his woman, humiliated him, erased him from the picture, and the story moved on as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Now, Evan had done the same thing.
Not in a game. Not in some fictional scenario.
But in real life.
My nails dug deeper into my palms, skin breaking.
This wasn't just some random betrayal.
He had watched it unfold on my screen. He had learned from it. And he had decided to try it himself.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Mia… Do you want to leave him?"
Silence.
Then, a whisper.
"… I don't know."
Her voice was so small. So broken.
I had never heard her like this before.
Mia had always been the stronger one. The responsible one. She took care of me when our parents left. She worked her ass off to keep us afloat. Even when life threw shit her way, she always held her head high.
But now?
She sounded defeated.
That was the moment something inside me snapped.
I didn't just want to hurt Evan.
I needed to...
I took a deep breath, trying to push down the burning rage inside me. "Get some rest, Mia. I'll handle this."
"…What are you gonna do?"
I didn't answer.
Because if I told her, she would try to stop me.
I turned away from her door and walked back to my room, my mind already made up.
Tonight, I was going to make Evan pay.
…
The clock read 4:12 AM when I finally stepped out into the cold night air.
The streets were empty. The world was asleep. But I was wide awake, my blood running hot with fury.
Evan's apartment wasn't far. A short walk. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. I had been there plenty of times before—back when I thought he was just another guy, just my sister's husband, nothing more.
Now, I was heading there for a different reason.
I didn't know exactly what I was going to do when I saw him. Beat the shit out of him? Ruin his life the way he had ruined Mia's? Maybe.
But one thing was certain.
This wouldn't end with just words.
As I walked, my mind replayed everything I had seen in the game. The protagonist, Leon Stroud, always won. He always got the girl. He always left Cassius in the dust.
But this wasn't a game.
And I wasn't Cassius Lancaster.
I was going to be the one who won this time.
Even if I had to burn everything down to do it.
The walk to Evan's apartment felt like it lasted forever.
The city was dead at this hour—just empty streets and the occasional flickering streetlamp. My breath came out in sharp, shallow exhales, misting in the cold air. My fists were still clenched, the dull sting of my nails biting into my skin grounding me.
I wasn't thinking straight.
But I didn't want to think.
Thinking meant hesitation. It meant second-guessing. It meant the possibility that I might talk myself out of what I was about to do.
And I couldn't do that.
Not after what I'd just heard.
Not after seeing Mia break like that.
I reached Evan's apartment complex, my body moving on autopilot. It was one of those luxury buildings, the kind with security cameras and a locked entrance. A place for people who thought they were untouchable.
But Evan wasn't untouchable.
I already knew a way in.
I had been here plenty of times before, usually invited over for dinner or drinks. I knew the layout, the stairwells, even the blind spots in the security cameras.
Slipping inside was easy.
I climbed the stairs two at a time, my heartbeat hammering in my ears. Apartment 4C. Fourth floor, second door on the right.
When I reached it, I stood still for a moment, forcing myself to take a slow breath.
Then, I knocked.
At first, nothing.
Then, after a few seconds, I heard movement inside. A shuffle. The sound of someone unlocking the door.
The door cracked open slightly, and there he was.
Evan.
He was shirtless, his dark hair slightly messy, eyes still groggy with sleep. But when he saw me standing there, his expression shifted—from confusion to mild annoyance.
"…What the hell are you doing here?"
I stared at him.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Because I realized something.
He didn't even look guilty.
There was no fear. No hesitation. No shame.
Just irritation. Like I was some random inconvenience in his perfect little life.
My hands curled into fists.
I took a step forward, shoving the door open before he could react.
"Hey—"
CRACK.
My fist slammed into his jaw, sending him stumbling back into the apartment. He barely had time to process what had happened before I was on him, gripping the collar of his loose sweatpants and dragging him forward.
"What the—!?"
BAM.
I drove my knee into his gut, cutting off his words. He choked, doubling over in pain, gasping for air.
I let him go, watching as he collapsed onto the floor, coughing violently.
Good.
He deserved to fucking suffer.
I stood over him, chest heaving, eyes burning with rage.
"Get up," I muttered.
Evan groaned, still clutching his stomach. "What… the fuck…?"
I didn't wait for him to recover. I reached down, grabbed his hair, and yanked his head up so he was forced to look at me.
His dazed, confused eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw it—fear.
Good.
Now he knew what it felt like.
"What the hell is wrong with you!?" he gasped.
I laughed bitterly. "Me? What's wrong with me?"
I pulled out my phone and opened the messages Mia had sent me earlier—the ones she had found on Evan's phone. The photos. The texts. The proof. I shoved the screen in his face.
"What's this, huh?" I growled. "What the fuck is this, Evan?"
His breath hitched.
For a split second, his face paled.
Then, just as quickly, his expression changed. He smirked.
Smirked.
Like this was some fucking game.
"Oh," he said, voice still ragged. "That."
That was it. That was all he said. Like it was nothing. Like it was normal.
Something inside me snapped.
I slammed his head back against the floor, hard enough to make him groan in pain.
"She loved you," I spat. "She fucking trusted you."
Evan chuckled weakly, his smirk still intact. "Yeah. She did."
I froze.
For a second, I just stared at him.
He wasn't apologizing. He wasn't trying to defend himself. He wasn't even denying it.
He was proud.
"You—" My voice caught in my throat. "You enjoyed this?"
Evan exhaled slowly, as if gathering his strength, then looked me dead in the eye.
"Yeah," he said. "I did."
That was it.
I lost it.
My fists came down, slamming into his face, his ribs, anywhere I could reach. He grunted, tried to block, but he was already weakened. I hit him again. And again.
This wasn't a fight anymore.
It was a beating.
A well-deserved one.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I should stop. That this wasn't the way. That if I kept going, I might actually kill him.
But I didn't care.
I wanted to kill him.
Because he had killed Mia.
Not physically, no. But emotionally. Spiritually. He had taken everything she had given him—her love, her trust, her devotion—and crushed it under his heel.
And worst of all?
He had enjoyed it.
I barely noticed when he stopped fighting back. When his grunts of pain turned into weak, ragged breaths. When his face became swollen, bloody, barely recognizable.
I didn't stop until his body went limp.
Even then, I had to force myself to step away, breathing hard.
Evan lay there, barely conscious, blood trickling from his busted lip.
But that smirk?
That fucking smirk was still there.
I should've killed him.
I wanted to kill him.
But I wasn't done yet.
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
This wasn't going to end with a single beating.
I was going to ruin him.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Just like he did to Mia.
I wiped the blood off my knuckles and turned to leave.
This was just the beginning.
And I wasn't going to stop until Evan knew what it felt like to be truly, completely destroyed