Chapter 4
Andrea
The penthouse elevator climbed thirty floors in silence. Miguel shifted the last box in his arms, shooting me a sideways glance.
"You sure about this place, Andrea? It's a hell of a statement."
I punched in the security code to my new million-dollar paradise. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked downtown Austin like a throne room.
"That's exactly the point."
The apartment was obscene. All marble and chrome, with a view that screamed money. I'd bought it cash, same day.
Miguel set down the box and whistled low. "Jesus Christ. This place costs more than most people make in a lifetime."
"Good. I want everyone to know exactly how far I've risen."
I pulled out my phone and positioned myself against the windows. Golden hour lighting, designer dress, million-dollar view.
"Take my picture."
Miguel hesitated. "Andrea, you know I'm not comfortable with this whole revenge thingâ"
"Just take the fucking picture, Miguel."
The camera clicked. Perfect. I uploaded it immediately with the caption: [New address, new life, new level. Some of us were born to rise.đ]
Within minutes, my notifications exploded. Hearts, fire emojis, comments ranging from worship to jealousy.
Miguel was arranging books on the custom shelves when my phone started buzzing nonstop.
"Tyler's been calling you," he said, not looking up. "Forty-three missed calls."
I checked the screen. Forty-four now.
"Good. Let him sweat. Come take a selfie with me by this window."
"You sure about this? Using me to make him jealous?"
I grabbed Miguel's hand and pulled him close. He smelled like cedar and confidenceâeverything Tyler wasn't.
"I'm not using you. I'm showing the world what a real man looks like. There's a difference."
The selfie was perfect. Miguel's arm around my waist, both of us laughing like we owned the world.
Which, technically, I did.
Sixth Street pulsed with bass and neon at 10 PM. I'd rented out the entire VIP section of Austin's most exclusive club.
The male models I'd hired for the evening were exactly what I'd ordered: tall, sculpted, and photographable. Each one cost more than Tyler made in a month.
"So you're the famous Andrea Rodriguez," Jake the bartender said, flexing as he mixed my drink. "Tyler's been asking everyone about you."
I slid a hundred-dollar bill across the bar. "Ex-Tyler. And he can keep asking. Tonight's about celebrating freedom."
"Freedom from what?"
"From losers who don't know how to treat a woman. Miguel, come take a picture of me and Jake."
Miguel appeared at my elbow, looking uncomfortable. "Andrea, maybe we should slow down on the photos..."
"No. I want everyone to see this. Especially him."
Jake's arm snaked around my waist as I leaned into him. The camera flash caught us laughing, drinks raised, surrounded by luxury.
Upload. Tag location. Watch the world lose its mind.
'Let Tyler see what he lost,' I thought, scrolling through the immediate flood of reactions. 'Let him see what he'll never have again.'
The music was deafening, but I heard the commotion before I saw it.
"What the fuck, Andrea! You're my fiancĂŠe!"
Tyler burst through the VIP section like a wild animal. His hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, eyes bloodshot with desperation.
I stood slowly, champagne flute in hand. "Was. Past tense. Learn some grammar, asshole."
"You can't do this to me! We have eight years together!"
Miguel stepped between us, his presence suddenly imposing. "Back off, man. She doesn't want you here."
Tyler's face twisted with rage. "Who the hell are you? I'll fucking kill you!"
"Try me, pretty boy."
What happened next was poetry. Miguel moved like water, catching Tyler's wild swing and pinning him to the floor in one fluid motion.
The entire VIP section erupted in laughter and camera phones.
"Andrea, please!" Tyler struggled against Miguel's hold. "I love you!"
I crouched down until we were eye level. The bass thrummed through the floor, vibrating through my chest.
"Love? You don't know the fucking meaning of the word."
Security appeared within seconds, hauling Tyler toward the exit as he screamed my name. Every phone in the club was recording.
'Perfect,' I thought, already imagining the viral videos. 'Let the whole world see him break.'
My phone buzzed at 2 AM. Campus security footage was already flooding the group chats.
Tyler, drunk off his ass, stumbling through campus screaming my name like a lunatic.
"Andrea! Andrea Rodriguez! Where are you, baby!"
A security guard approached him. "Hey buddy, you can't be here this late. You okay?"
"I need to find my girl! She's... she's everything!"
"Sir, I'm gonna need you to leave campus. Now."
Tyler swung at the guard and missed by a mile. "You don't understand! I love her! I fucking love her!"
The backup arrived quickly. Three guards wrestled him to the ground while students recorded from their dorm windows.
I screenshotted every angle, saved every video.
From my bed in the penthouse, I could see the university campus in the distance. Somewhere down there, Tyler was probably still wandering the streets like a ghost.
I posted the selfie with Miguel from earlier, captioning it: [Finally found someone who knows how to treat a queen.â¤ď¸#NewBeginnings #UpgradeComplete]
Tyler's roommate immediately commented with a paragraph-long plea for mercy. I screenshotted it, then blocked him.
My group chat with the girls was on fire:
[Girl, you are savage! But he deserved it.]
I typed back: [He deserved worse. But this is just the beginning.]
The campus security video had gone viral. Over ten thousand views in an hour.
But something in the footage caught my eye. As Tyler was being dragged away, Ryan appeared in the frame. My brother rushed to Tyler's side, helping him up, looking around like he was checking for witnesses.
'Interesting,' I thought, zooming in on their interaction. 'Very interesting.'
I saved that particular clip separately. Something told me it would be useful later.
Tyler had taught me wellâtrust no one, and always keep receipts.