Revenge With My Brother's Best Friend

CINDY'S POV

A week ago, I left Texas in a wheelchair.

Today, I walked back in on my own two feet.

The surgery wasn't even the hardest part. That was done in a few hours, under the hands of the best surgeons in the world.

The real hell started afterward, learning how to stand again, how to take one step without wobbling or collapsing.

There were days I thought I'd never walk again, days I wanted to scream and rip out the IVs, but Ric was there, every single day.

He pushed me, held me up, told me to try again, again, again until I could finally stand without help.

Until I could take steps across the cold hospital floor, holding my head up, not looking back.

And now, I could even walk in heels.

When I caught a glimpse of myself in the hotel mirror, it was like looking at someone else entirely.

My makeup was flawless, the dark liner making my blue eyes sharper, my lips glossed and shiny.

The sleek black dress hugged my waist and hips, the silver necklace at my throat glinting under the soft light.

For the first time in a long time, I felt powerful.

I felt alive.

I checked my phone. Nothing from Henry, nothing from Lydia or Vivian, nothing from anyone in that house. They had watched me leave, rolling out the door, and not one of them even bothered to call to ask if I was okay.

That told me everything I needed to know.

My phone buzzed with a message from Ric.

"Damian is in. Sent him your address. He'll meet you at the house."

A slow smirk pulled at my lips.

It was happening. My plan was finally moving, piece by piece. I didn't think Damian would actually agree. I thought he'd be too busy, too wrapped up in his world to bother with mine.

But the bond between him and Ric was still there, and I knew a part of him still remembered me.

Back then, he was a brat. Younger than me by a year, always in my way, teasing, poking, pulling my hair just to get my attention.

When he asked me out at sixteen, I laughed in his face and told him to grow up.

And then he was gone.

I hadn't seen him since, but I knew he was still single and now the CEO of a massive tech company.

He was exactly what I needed.

A perfect weapon for my perfect revenge.

At 7 p.m. sharp, I walked back into that house like I owned it, heels tapping on the tiles, head high, chin up.

The living room fell silent.

Vivian's wine glass slipped from her fingers and shattered, red liquid pooling around the shards.

Lydia backed up against the wall, eyes wide, like she'd seen a ghost.

"What... what is this?"

Henry shot up from the couch, his jaw slack, eyes darting to my heels, then my face, then back again. Monica clung to his arm, her mouth hanging open, speechless.

Henry's voice cracked. "Cindy... how... how are you walking?"

Monica swallowed, her voice small. "She was in a wheelchair... just days ago..."

Lydia's mouth twisted. "I knew it! I knew you were lying all along, pretending to be crippled just so you could trap Henry and milk us for everything!"

A laugh broke out of me, sharp and cold.

"You think I would choose to be stuck in a chair, to need help to use the bathroom, to be looked at like I'm worthless every single day? You think I faked surgeries, therapy, and pain just to stay with your pathetic brother?"

Lydia's face went red, her hands shaking at her sides.

Vivian stepped forward, her eyes narrowing, scanning me up and down like I was a problem she couldn't solve.

"Where did you get the money for the surgery? Last time Gregory tried, the doctors said it would take millions, money we didn't have. So where, Cindy?"

Henry's voice rose, cracking as he struggled to hold onto anger that was quickly turning into something else.

"And where have you been all these days? Looking like this... dressed like this... have you been cheating on me?"

I opened my mouth, ready to say exactly what I thought of him, but a voice cut through the room, calm, low, and rough making my stomach flip.

"Yes. She has."

All eyes snapped to the doorway.

And there he was.

Tall, broad, leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. Dark brown curls falling over storm-grey eyes, a lazy smirk playing on lips that looked like they knew every sin in the universe.

His black dress shirt hugged the hard lines of his chest, sleeves rolled to reveal strong forearms and expensive watch gleaming under the lights.

He looked like trouble, and he wore it well.

Even I blinked, heat rising in my face before I could stop it.

Who the hell is this man?

He pushed off the doorframe and walked in like he owned the place, eyes on me, and for a moment the room, the anger, the tension, everything else fell away.

He didn't stop until he was in front of me, his scent hitting me, clean, expensive, masculine. Then his arm slid around my waist, fingers splaying over my hip, pulling me close without asking.

My breath caught, and I hated that my heart skipped in that stupid, familiar way.

Henry stepped forward, fists clenching. "Who the hell are you?"

Vivian's eyes flicked down, then back up, and she let out a sharp breath.

"God, he's hot."

"Mom!" Lydia and Henry snapped at the same time.

Vivian's head jerked, and she looked away quickly, her cheeks pink.

"What? I'm just saying."

Henry shot her a look, his jaw clenching, before turning his glare back to the man who still had his arm around my waist, fingers flexing like he had every right.

"Listen, kid," Henry said, his voice low and tight, "I don't know who you think you are, but you're in the wrong house. Let her go and get out."

A slow, mischievous grin spread across the man's face, and he glanced around the room, taking them all in like they were ants under his boot.

"No," he said, his voice smooth, confident. "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

His fingers dug deeper into my waist as he pulled me closer into his chest.

His eyes flickered to Henry, and the grin widened just a bit before he dropped the grenade on them, voice calm, like he was talking about the weather.

"I'm Damian," he said. "Cindy's boyfriend."

What! Damian?!

He let the silence stretch, letting it sink in.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you all."