Revenge was never my plan, at least not consciously. But some wounds don’t heal—they fester, growing darker with time. Sarah was the reason for those wounds. In school, she thrived on tormenting me, her words and actions slicing deeper than she’d ever realize. Back then, I was too timid to fight back. But time changes people.
Years passed, and I became unrecognizable—not just in appearance but in power and influence. I built a pharmaceutical empire from the ground up, earning accolades and a fortune along the way. Life was good, but something still lingered—an ache that never fully disappeared. And then, one fateful evening, the universe gave me a chance to address it.
I saw her at a gala, standing near the bar. Sarah. She hadn’t changed much—still loud, still desperate for attention, still believing the world revolved around her. But there was something new: vulnerability. Her startup was failing; the desperation in her smile gave it away.
“Sarah,” I said, approaching her. Her eyes widened when she recognized me, though she quickly masked her surprise with a forced grin.
“Oh, wow, it’s… you,” she said, clearly fumbling for my name.
“It’s been a while,” I replied smoothly, my voice steady. “How are you?”
“Great, actually,” she said too quickly. “Running my own business now. It’s a lot of work, but, you know, some of us thrive under pressure.”
Her bravado might have fooled others, but not me. I knew the truth. I’d already looked into her company—its debts, its dwindling clients, the whispers of layoffs. She was sinking, and she knew it.
“Well, if you ever need advice, I’d be happy to help,” I offered, my tone laced with false warmth. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she forced a laugh.
“I’ve got it handled,” she said, brushing me off.
But she didn’t.
Over the next few weeks, I set my plan into motion. Using my connections, I learned everything about her business—its weaknesses, its dependencies. Slowly, I began to dismantle it. Clients were redirected to my company with offers they couldn’t refuse. Her suppliers suddenly found better deals elsewhere. Investors pulled out, citing “concerns.”
I never reached out to her directly. I didn’t need to. Watching her spiral was enough.
The final blow came during a high-stakes investor meeting, one she desperately needed to save her company. I walked in as a surprise guest speaker, representing a competitor—my company. Her face turned pale as I presented a vision that made her startup irrelevant.
Afterward, as the room cleared, she approached me. “You did this,” she said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation.
I looked her in the eye and smiled. “Did what?”
“You know what! You ruined me!”
I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Ruined you? Sarah, I only did what you taught me—find the weak, exploit them, and make sure they stay beneath you.”
Her face crumpled. For the first time, she had no clever comeback, no sharp insult. Just silence.
As I walked away, I felt lighter. Revenge wasn’t just sweet—it was transformative. I didn’t need to destroy her to prove anything. But seeing her face as she realized what she’d lost? That was something I’d savor forever.
Sarah was a ghost of the past now, and for the first time, I was free.
