Page 12 of No Longer Mine

Little did they know that they were all about to eat out of the palm of my hand.

Once I was elected, they’d swarm me like flies, bringing bribes wrapped in shiny packaging and calling them “support.” They’d want favors, votes, and policies that lined their pockets.

What they didn’t realize was that Benson had already started building the groundwork for their downfall.

Blackmail folders.

I smiled faintly, the darkness of the thought oddly comforting. Benson was meticulous—every folder filled with secrets they thought were buried. Affairs, offshore accounts, illegal dealings, and skeletons hidden so deep they’d forgotten they were there.

I never showed my full hand.

If someone didn’t like the subtlety of a blackmail folder and they wanted to play hardball?

Well, that’s what torture was for.

My grin widened as I imagined the possibilities. Maybe I was more like my father than I wanted to admit. The difference was that I wasn’t building an empire to hoard power. I was building a weapon to destroy his.

The car slowed as we approached my brownstone, the faint hum of the engine cutting through the silence.

Revenge wouldn’t heal me.

But it didn’t matter. Healing wasn’t the goal, I decided quickly.

Destruction was.

As I stepped out of the car, my eyes instinctively flicked upward. A shadow moved across the top window of one of the guest bedrooms, barely visible but unmistakable.

I smiled, a slow curve of my lips. So, my little visitor had returned.

I rolled my head on my shoulders, the tension from the fundraiser melting away. Maybe this campaign nonsense wasn’t so bad after all. Perhaps it would even have its perks.

I walked up the steps, my keys already in hand, my steps measured and calm. This wasn’t a moment for panic or haste. No, this was an opportunity—one I didn’t plan to squander.

The door clicked shut behind me as quietly as I could get it. The house was silent, but the energy inside was alive and electric.

They’d been bold to come back. Either they thought I hadn’t noticed the last time, or they wanted me to.

Carefully, I set my keys on the entryway table and loosened my tie as I made my way to the stairs. My footsteps were soft and careful as I climbed upward.

This wasn’t about revenge or politics, not right now.

This was about curiosity.

And, maybe, about having a little fun.

No one needed to know.

I didn't know where they were, but something told me I’d find them in my bedroom this time. Whoever it was, they’d slipped past Benson’s upgraded security system without tripping a single alarm—no small feat.

My curiosity only grew sharper, edged with a tinge of anticipation. Who was this person who thought they could break into a Cristof’s home?

It was bold, maybe even reckless. They must’ve known whose house they were playing with. People knew the Cristof name and everything that came with it—power, danger, and the kind of upbringing that left its mark in all the wrong places.

A smirk tugged at my lips. Maybe they thought they were invincible, or perhaps they were just looking for a challenge. Either way, they’d gotten my attention.

I paused outside my bedroom door, the faintest sound catching my ear—a rustle, like someone shifting their weight.

There they were.