Chapter 1 - Arina

I switch on my coffee machine and take a travel mug from the cupboard. It's my favorite mug, a stainless steel one with my name engraved on it.

Today's the day.

I'm finally starting the first step of taking revenge against my bastard half-brothers.

I look at the note I have put on my kitchen counter. The brief letter my mother left with me when she took me to the orphanage.

Sentences jump out at me.

Sorry for leaving me.

Father's family drove her away.

She's not cut out for this.

Bitch of a wife's fault.

I don't exactly forgive my mother, either. She left me at Stone's Throw Orphanage shortly after I was born. I know she probably didn't realize what a piece of shit place it was to grow up in, but I guess I still resent her for not checking into it more deeply.

All I have left of her is this worn-out letter I've read thousands of times.

Stone's Throw was hell on Earth for me in my early years. I remember being in pain a lot. No one changed diapers or fed you properly. If you were lucky, an older kid would take you under their wing and help you out, but those were rare. They were too busy fighting for their own survival.

There wasn't even a garden—just a stone courtyard with a sandpit. And the sandpit was disgusting and dirty because no one kept it clean.

The courtyard wasn't fenced off, so homeless people would sleep there all the time and chase us if we woke them up. I can't count the number of empty bottles thrown at me for upsetting a homeless person who honestly shouldn't have been there in the first place.

There were no hugs. No band-aids when you scraped your knees. There was no smell of freshly baked goods, wholesome meals together, or even just the scent of cleanliness.

No, it smelled like piss and garbage, and for the seven years I was there, it was a smell I carried with me everywhere I went. Other kids in the neighborhood would tease us for smelling the way we did.

Half the time, our water was cut off, so we couldn't even wash.

If we were lucky, the water was on, and we could drink some water for lunch just to silence our hungry stomachs.

When I started school, it was tough. I wasn't as developed as the other kids, though I had street smarts. Teachers complained about the smell, too. Some teachers didn't bother with us, feeling we were automatic failures, but there were one or two who put in the effort and cared.

I treasured those. With school came showers, which helped with the smell.

On inspection days, we had to clean—scrub, scrub, scrub—and make the home temporarily livable. The state didn't care about us enough to do anything. We were just orphans, after all.

Then, the Maias came into my life.

How I wished I could still smell like piss for the peace it offered compared to the Maias' house.

At first, I was excited about being adopted. Everyone had been. Everyone thought I was going to a better place.

I believed it when the Maias had been so kind to me in the courtyard and asked me if I wanted to go home with them.

I was sad to say goodbye to the kids at the orphanage whom I had been taking care of. I made some of the other kids my age promise to take care of them.

Then, I left for a blissful life of abuse.

Yeah.

Abuse.

That's all it was from day one.

The Maias had two other daughters, one older than me and one younger. I was meant to help take care of them. At first, they passed it off as chores, which I was accustomed to doing anyway—doing laundry, helping make dinner, and cleaning up. But I noticed the other girls didn't have to do chores.

The first time I brought it up, Mrs. Maia, my new mother, explained that they had already earned their keep, and I had to earn mine.

Then, the discipline started.

I would fold something wrong or cook something the wrong way, or I would do something my new sisters didn't like, and I was turned around and swatted on the ass. At first, it was just with their hands, but soon enough, it progressed to a belt they kept hanging on a hook near the door.

They'd make me fetch it.

My punishment for not being perfect.

Every time I didn't finish my food, every time I wet my bed, every time I forgot to do something.

My room was a small closet with a mattress in it. I was allowed to shower, and they never hit me anywhere it would show. So, to my school, it seemed my life was completely normal.

Teachers took a little more interest in me because I was adopted and being given a decent education. It was not the private school my sisters went to, but a decent public school.

I knew that would be my way out of this hellhole. I would need to study hard, work hard, and graduate with enough credits to get a bursary so I could leave.

The abuse just got worse as I got older because my sisters were allowed to hit me if I didn't do what they said while our parents were at work. Clarisse, my older sister, took this job very seriously and often gave me impossible-to-do tasks so that I would almost certainly fail, and she would reluctantly meter out my punishment. Then she would tell her mother about it when she got home, and most times, I'd get another hiding, especially if I tried to defend myself.

Through all that, I held onto the letter from my mother—a double-sided, scribbled letter that blamed my father and his family for the life I had endured.

So, hatred had built up. It wasn't hard to find the family she mentioned through the news and social media. They were gangsters, thugs who took what they wanted and dictated their own rules.

I fucking loathed them.

I kept checking on them and collecting news articles about the family. I got to know them through their nefarious deeds. I dated people from their gangs to find out information. I did what I had to do.

All while studying to become the best real estate agent that I could possibly be because that was one of their weaknesses. Prime Real Estate.

They used it to launder their money and were always looking for a great deal.

I worked hard to get where I am today. I worked hard, and I'm going to look each of them in the eye and begin the first step toward my revenge.

I'm going to take them down, one at a time, starting with Luka and ending with Kervyn. I don't care who tries to stand in my way. I will take them down with my half-brothers. It's their fault I've had such a miserable life.

I can't exact revenge on my father. He's already six feet under, so this is the next best thing.

Once my travel mug is full, I look around my apartment. I put the lid of the mug on, and I pick up my leather briefcase.

Today must go off without a hitch.

I need to get my foot in the door and become their new real estate agent.

Downstairs and into the underground parking, I make a beeline for my BMW in its assigned parking spot. It's a deep royal blue car with a retractable top.

I put my briefcase on the passenger seat beside me and my coffee in the holder. I backed the car out of its parking spot and left, waving to the security guard as I passed him.

I join the busy stream of traffic. I left early because I knew there'd be traffic on my way to the city center. It's always worse this time of day.

Hopefully, my new clients won't be late.

I tap my steering wheel, a little nervous about what I'm going to do.

I can't let on too early that I know them, and I can't sound too eager. I need to handle this professionally, as I've always managed my clients.

After forty minutes in traffic, I reach the building and pull into a parking spot. I grab my briefcase and coffee and sip on the hot liquid as I walk into the building.

I stay near the front desk, setting my coffee down behind it. I take brochures out of my briefcase. I had them made up to show the full potential of the property to the Milovs. I want them to take the bait and buy the land.

I look up as an older man walks into the building. He takes his sunglasses off. "Arina Maia?" he asks.

"That's me, you are…"

"Luka Milov," he smiles warmly. He holds out his hand, and I shake it.

"Pleasure," I say. I can feel my heart beating in my throat. "So glad you could make it."

"The pleasure is mine. Thank you for the tip about this property being for sale. My brothers will be arriving shortly." He looks around. "Can we have a tour of the place once they do?"

"Yes, of course. I would love to give you a full tour so you can see exactly why this place is prime real estate and why I can offer it to you at an excellent price compared to its worth."

I click my pen in and out. I pick up my coffee and sip it. "Sorry, I didn't have time to drink my coffee this morning."

"No problem at all." He gestures to me. "Go ahead, I won't stop you."

"Thank you," I say quietly.

He's friendly and warm, which is not what I expected from a Milov. Perhaps they're just like this when they do business. I won't fall for it.

I click my pen again and then set it down.

"Would you excuse me? I just need the facilities."

He nods, and I hurry down one hallway and then another to the woman's bathroom. I wash my hands and splash water on my face. I give myself a mental shake.

Come on, Arina, you can do this. You have been planning for this your entire life. This is what we have lived for. This is what we have survived for.

I stare into my eyes through the mirror and can see the anger burning behind them. I need to pull myself together. I splash my face one more time and pat it dry with paper towels. Straightening up, I fix my clothes and check my makeup and hair at the same time.

Once I'm satisfied, I turn to leave the bathroom. I walk out confidently and almost immediately walk into someone. "Sorry," I mumble, but I'm cut off when the guy grabs me and turns me around, clamping a hand over my mouth.

He wraps a large arm around me as I try to fight him off. I struggle as best as I can. It must be the Milovs. They know who I am. This was all a ploy to get to me.

I try to kick the man, but he doesn't flinch at all.

He produces something from his pocket. I'm about to pull away from him, and he clamps something over my mouth. It's a rag, and it smells awful.

I get lightheaded and woozy, and my eyes start to close as my body goes limp.

When I come to, I'm in the back of a van. There's no one in the back with me, but I also realize there's no way I'm getting out, so the best thing I can do right now is to pretend I'm still out of it until I get a chance to run off. Whoever has taken me can only mean me harm.