Brother, Is Your Revenge Sweet Now?

I adjusted the simple champagne-colored dress in the mirror, my palms slightly damp. This was the best dress in my closet, yet it seemed so… ordinary against the backdrop of the upcoming tech summit gala.

"Is this really okay?" I murmured, smoothing the skirt, unable to hide the nervous tremor in my voice. "Will I stick out like a sore thumb?"

Russell walked up behind me, a delicate blue jewelry box in his hands. Seeing him, my heart instantly settled. This was the man I had loved for three whole years.

We had reconnected on the Stanford campus three years ago. Childhood sweethearts, separated and reunited as adults—it felt like something out of a fairy tale. He was still the gentle boy who would soothingly stroke my back when I was nervous, and I was still the girl who would blush at his smile.

"Don't worry, Kaitlyn. You'll always be the most beautiful one here." His gaze was as tender as ever, like melted honey.

When he opened the box, I nearly held my breath. A diamond necklace lay nestled against the silk lining, each stone glittering brilliantly.

"Russell, this is too much, I can't—"

"Nothing is too much for my queen." He carefully fastened it around my neck, his fingertips brushing the nape of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

The diamonds felt cool against my skin, their weight unfamiliar. But what unsettled me more was the look in Russell's eyes—a complex, unreadable emotion flickering in his focus as he clasped the necklace.

I had seen that look before.

When he said, "Tonight will be special." When he took that mysterious call a month ago. And… that afternoon a year ago that changed everything.

We were curled up watching a movie in his apartment when the doorbell rang. Russell's body went rigid instantly.

"Kaitlyn, quick, go to the bedroom." His tone was so tense it made my heart pound.

"Why should I hide?" I asked, confused.

"It might be my dad." He was already heading for the door. "Please, Kaitlyn."

I'd never seen him so panicked, so I obeyed, slipping into the bedroom. Peering through the crack in the door, I saw his father enter—a tall, imposing man whose presence seemed to suck the air from the room.

Their voices were low, but I caught fragments that chilled me to the bone.

"…a girl from that kind of background…"

"…don't embarrass the family…"

Russell's voice sounded strained. "Dad, I love her."

"Love?" Mr. Hawthorne's voice was icy. "Have you forgotten how your mother died?"

Russell was summoned home that night. When he returned, his eyes were shadowed with something complicated.

"Russell?" My voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Hmm?" A flicker of panic crossed his eyes before the gentleness returned.

"I said I love you. These three years have been the best of my life." I cupped his face, tears welling in my eyes. "I know we've had to keep it secret. I know about your family… But I believe if we love each other, everything will work out."

After his father's visit, Russell had changed. He swung between warmth and distance, sometimes looking at me with an expression I couldn't decipher. Sometimes he held me, yet felt miles away.

But I told myself it was just the pressure. If I could be good enough, if I could prove I deserved him, it would all be okay.

"Tonight will be special." Something flashed in his blue eyes, his voice slightly hoarse.

My heart raced. Maybe… maybe tonight he would finally make us public. Maybe tonight we'd stop hiding.

"You mean…?" I didn't dare finish, afraid to shatter the hope.

Russell didn't answer, just pressed a light kiss to my forehead. It was tender, yet carried a strange, inexplicable sadness.

He was so good to me. Despite everything, he chose me. I must be the luckiest woman alive.

The ballroom of the luxury hotel was dazzling, warmed by the glow of crystal chandeliers. I held tightly to Russell's arm, nervous and excited.

This was our first formal event together. For three years, our relationship had been a secret, confined to private spaces. Tonight, maybe that would change.

The women around us were radiant, their jewels more exquisite than any art I'd ever seen. Their accents, the way they held their glasses, even their smiles—all spoke of an elegance I'd never possessed.

They were born into this world. And I…

But then I remembered the tenderness in Russell's eyes when he gave me the necklace, and I calmed down. He chose me. Not them.

"Oh, Russell!" A woman in a Chanel suit approached, her makeup flawless, her smile distinctly appraising. "And this is your… friend?"

She lingered on the word "friend," making me instantly uneasy.

"It's an honor to be here," I said, trying to sound confident.

"How interesting," another woman chimed in, her eyes scanning me. "I thought Russell's plus-one would be… a different type."

I looked at Russell, willing him to claim me, to define us. But he just smiled faintly and said nothing.

Strangely, a memory surfaced. A month ago, Russell had taken a call on the balcony. I'd overheard him say, "No, I don't have a girlfriend."

I'd brushed it off then, assuming it was business. But now…

No, I shook my head. Maybe he just wasn't ready. The family pressure was immense. I needed to understand.

I went to the restroom to freshen up, wanting to look more assured. On my way back, passing a secluded lounge area, I heard a familiar voice.

Russell, talking with friends.

"Is he talking about me?" My mood lifted instantly. "He must be introducing me. Maybe tonight really is the night."

I slowed my steps, wanting to hear how he described me.

"Honestly, I thought you'd bring Olivia," one voice said.

Olivia… the Stanford beauty. I'd seen her picture. She was stunning.

"Olivia?" Russell's tone was dismissive. "She's so boring. But Kaitlyn…"

I held my breath. What would he say? His secret girlfriend? The woman he'd loved for three years?

"Kaitlyn?" Russell suddenly laughed, a sound that made my heart stutter. "She's just a plaything. Takes after her mother—learned all her tricks on how to ‘snag' a rich man."

What?

The world tilted. A plaything? It couldn't be… He couldn't mean me… We loved each other. I must have misheard.

"Haha, you're terrible!" someone laughed. "But seriously, she really thinks you're together. Did you see her hopeful look? So naive."

"Who said we're together?" Russell's voice was cold as ice. "She's been imagining things. I never acknowledged any relationship."

No… no… It's not possible… Three years of tenderness, three years together, the deep kisses, the long nights talking…

"You're a good actor," another voice said. "Made her think you loved her. No wonder she's so devoted."

"Her mother's artistic success?" Russell's voice continued, each word a knife to my heart. "All ‘sponsored' by my father. What do you expect from women like that? From daughters like that?"

"So these three years, you were just toying with her?"

"Of course." Russell's laugh was cruel and triumphant. "I'm making her pay the price her mother should have paid back then."

Everyone was laughing—mocking, venomous laughter.

Trembling, I stepped out of the shadows. "Russell… what are you saying?"

The conversation died. Everyone turned to me. Their faces showed no embarrassment, only voyeuristic excitement. A few even subtly raised their phones, cameras pointed our way.

Russell slowly turned. Those once-warm blue eyes were now terrifyingly cold. "Oh, Kaitlyn. Perfect timing."

"These three years… the things you said… those nights…" My voice shook, tears blurring my vision.

"What things? What nights?" His smile was cruel and sarcastic. "When did I ever say I loved you? You've been deluding yourself, haven't you?"

"No… impossible…" I shook my head, crying. "You loved me! You said I was your queen! You said we'd be together always!"

"Queen?" Russell's friends burst into louder laughter, phones still recording. "Russell, didn't you tell her this necklace was the one you gave Olivia last month? The one she returned?"

My world shattered completely.

I felt my blood freeze. The diamond necklace around my neck suddenly felt unbearably heavy, like it was choking me.

"Why…" I could barely stand. "Three years… three whole years… Russell, tell me this isn't true…"

Russell stepped closer, his expression like a cat toying with a mouse, crushing my heart. "Did you really think an artist's daughter could be worthy of the Hawthorne heir?"

His voice grew quieter, yet harsher: "How do you think your mother got those exhibition opportunities? Don't play dumb. I just wanted to see if you were as easy… as she was."

"No… No! NO!" I screamed, my voice raw. "Three years! I loved you for three years! You loved me too! You said you loved me!"

But Russell was already turning away, leaving me with one final phrase: "Never did."

Russell's laughter and the crowd's murmurs echoed behind me like demonic whispers.

Tears blurred my vision, but the mocking grew louder. I wanted to run, to hide, but my legs refused to move.

Finally, I stumbled out of the ballroom and into the storm outside. Rain mixed with tears as I finally understood: the happiness of the past three years had all been an elaborately crafted lie.

And I had been the stupidest prey of all.