Crystal's POV
The moment I stepped into the living room, I knew my mother was waiting.
Arms folded. Back straight. Eyes sharp enough to dissect the truth right out of my bones.
The scent of her perfume mixed with the lingering smoke on my clothes—hospital disinfectant, burnt hair, and the metallic edge of adrenaline that still clung to my skin.
I didn't pretend. I didn't hide. I didn't bow or look away.
I simply stood there.
Waiting.
Because whatever she thought she knew…
she wasn't ready for the truth.
"Crystal," she began slowly, her voice tight, "I know you. Everything that happened… you planned it, didn't you?"
I didn't flinch.
Of course she knew.
She raised me.
Manipulation wasn't something I learned on the streets.
It was a survival instinct carved into me since childhood.
So I held her gaze, cold and calm.
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Verena came at me first. But she had no idea I had already marked her the moment I saw her on campus."
Her eyes widened.
Confusion… fear… disappointment… all tangled in her pupils.
"You marked her?" she whispered.
I shrugged lightly, as if we were talking about a shopping list.
"The Maddox family is one of the families backing Robert Reed," I said. "If I'm going to tear my father off his throne, I have to start with the people who hold him up."
My voice dropped lower.
Darker.
"Cut a wing… and the bird loses balance. Verena just happened to be the easiest wing to slice."
Mother's jaw tightened.
Her composure cracked around the edges.
"So you used her?"
I smirked.
"She handed herself to me on a silver plate. I'd be stupid to refuse."
Her voice rose in anger.
"Crystal! You went too far! A girl's reputation is ruined. Her family is shattered. People are terrified—"
I laughed.
Soft.
Cold.
Cruel.
"Innocent?" I repeated, lifting a brow. "Mother… anyone who tries to hurt me is not innocent."
For a moment, I saw myself reflected in her eyes—not as a daughter, but as something sharper. Something she couldn't control anymore.
"And anyone connected to the Reed family," I continued, "is already my enemy."
My voice softened… but the softness was a weapon.
"I will not spare them. Not now. Not ever."
Her eyes glistened.
Not with tears… but with realization.
She finally understood:
The darkness she spent years trying to tame
had bloomed fully.
There was no going back.
She rubbed her temples, exhausted.
"Fine. Do whatever you want… But come eat something and rest. Even you were hurt in all this."
Her tone cracked slightly—
the tiniest fracture in her armor.
That was the thing about my mother:
she cared quietly, desperately, in ways she never voiced.
So I softened.
Just a little.
"Alright," I said quietly.
We ate dinner together in silence.
A strange, heavy, suffocating silence.
Her fork scraped the plate like a warning.
My spoon tapped the bowl like a countdown.
Neither of us spoke.
Because what was there to say?
She feared what I was becoming.
I feared nothing at all.
Only the future.
Only the war.
Only the name Reed beating like a pulse behind my skull.
---
Later That Night
I walked into my bedroom, pushing the door shut with my hip.
The soft lamp light cast uneven shadows on my walls.
Everything looked… distorted.
Like me.
My phone slid across the comforter as I tossed it onto the bed.
Notifications were still blowing up—articles, gossip, the public frenzy over the Maddox scandal.
Students were terrified.
Parents were outraged.
And Verena?
She was probably curled in a corner somewhere, crying over her shattered world.
Good.
One less wing to support the Reed dynasty.
My mind churned with calculations—
timelines, targets, the collateral I needed next.
Revenge was a ladder.
I had barely climbed the first step.
But the constant thinking, the plotting—it weighed on me.
My scalp hurt.
My shoulders ached.
My chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing my lungs.
I sat at the edge of my bed, letting out a slow breath.
Maybe… I need a break.
A real one.
Something mindless.
Stupid.
Quiet.
I grabbed my phone again and opened Netflix.
"I need to reset my brain before it burns out," I muttered.
I curled under my blanket.
Pressed play on a random show I didn't even care about.
The voices in the background blurred into static.
But my mind refused to quiet.
Even as the screen flickered, my thoughts sharpened:
This is only the beginning.
The Reed family will crumble.
Piece by piece.
Person by person.
Wing by wing.
I closed my eyes.
And a small smile curled at the corner of my lips—
a smile made of ice, victory, and the promise of war.
Let them panic.
Let them fear me.
I wasn't done.
Not even close.