Chapter 3
Andrea
The University of Texas Athletic Department building felt like a mausoleum at 10 AM. I pushed through Ryan's office door without knocking.
He looked up from his computer, coffee mug frozen halfway to his lips. "Andrea? What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk."
I dropped into the leather chair across from his desk, letting my crutches clatter against the floor for maximum dramatic effect.
"I'm selling my shares in the Rodriguez Sports Complex to Texas A&M."
Ryan's coffee mug hit his desk with a crack. "What the fuck did you just say?"
"You heard me. Forty percent ownership, going to our biggest rival. Should fetch a nice price."
"Andrea, you can't be serious. That facility is our family legacy!"
I leaned forward, letting him see the ice in my eyes. "Blood means nothing when you chose sides, Ryan. Watch me destroy everything you built."
His face went chalk white. "You're being insane! This is bigger than some petty fight—"
"Petty? You protected my attacker over your own sister. That's not petty, that's betrayal."
"Savannah didn't mean—"
"Get her name out of your mouth."
Not wanting to hear another word from him, I turned and walked away. I came here to inform him, not to discuss it.
The law offices of Sterling, K& A occupied the top three floors of Austin's most prestigious high-rise. At noon, I sat across from Miranda Sterling, the shark lawyer.
"Investment fraud is a federal crime," Miranda explained, her manicured fingers drumming against the table. "If we can prove Tyler knowingly misrepresented his business prospects..."
"He took fifty thousand dollars promising NFL-level returns on his training investments. Now he's broke and unemployed."
"Perfect. We'll file for double damages plus punitive awards."
Miranda's smile was predatory. I loved it.
"I want him to lose everything," I said, "just like he made me lose everything in my past life."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't question the weird phrasing. Rich clients said strange shit all the time.
"Consider it done. By tomorrow, Mr. Brooks will be facing bankruptcy."
Back at school, the student center was buzzing with lunchtime chatter, but Tyler sat alone in the corner like he had the plague.
I watched from across the room as his former teammates walked past without acknowledgment.
"Funny how quickly people forget your name when the money stops flowing," I murmured to myself.
Tom, president of the Greek Council, slid into the seat beside me. "Everyone's talking about the lawsuit. Word spreads fast on campus."
"Good. Make sure it spreads faster."
"Consider it done. By tonight, he'll be persona non grata at every social event this semester."
Tyler caught sight of me across the room. His face crumpled with something that might have been hope or desperation. He started walking over.
I stood up before he could reach me.
"Don't even think about it, asshole."
The campus fitness center reeked of sweat and broken dreams at 4 PM. Through the glass partition, I watched Savannah stumble through her training routine like she was drunk.
She kept running to the bathroom every fifteen minutes.
'Miranda's contact at the supplement company came through,' I thought, watching Savannah's coach get increasingly frustrated.
"If you can't handle basic training, how can you represent our school?" Coach Sam barked as Savannah returned from her sixth bathroom break in an hour.
Tears streamed down her face. "I don't know what's wrong! I feel fine, but..."
"But nothing! Get your shit together or find another team!"
The mild diuretic I'd arranged to be slipped into her pre-workout drink was working perfectly. Nothing dangerous, just enough to make her look incompetent when it mattered most.
The Alpha Chi fraternity house pulsed with bass-heavy music and drunk college students. I arrived fashionably late at 8 PM, just as Tyler was making his desperate pitch to the brotherhood.
"Look, guys, the lawsuit is bullshit," he was saying to a crowd of increasingly hostile faces. "Andrea's just pissed about the breakup—"
"Breakup?" Marcus Thompson, the frat president, stepped forward. "Is that what you call stealing from your girlfriend and supporting the bitch who ended her career?"
"It wasn't like that!"
I'd spent the week methodically visiting every influential person in Tyler's social circle.
Money talked, and I had plenty to spare.
"You're nothing but a fraud, Tyler," Marcus continued. "Get out and never come back!"
Two seniors grabbed Tyler by the arms and hauled him toward the door. He caught sight of me standing by the staircase, champagne flute in hand.
"Andrea! Please! Tell them the truth!"
I raised my glass in a mock toast. "The truth? The truth is you're exactly where you belong."
The front door slammed behind him with finality.
Midnight found me at my dorm room window, pulling back the curtain just enough to see the pathetic figure kneeling on the sidewalk below.
Tyler had been there for three hours.
His shoulders shook with either cold or tears. Maybe both.
Students walking by took pictures, posted them online with captions like "Simp of the Year" and "Karma's a Bitch."
My phone buzzed with notifications. The internet was having a field day.
Tyler looked up at my window, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of mercy or forgiveness.
He wouldn't find either.
I let the curtain fall back into place and turned toward my desk, where tomorrow's revenge plans waited to be finalized.
'You made me kneel in my past life,' I thought, remembering the way he'd humiliated me at that same frat house, calling me a "cumulative burden" while Savannah hung all over him.
'Now it's your turn to taste despair.'