Karma Doesn’t Sleep The Revenge Queen Rises novel Chapter 353

When Amelia looked up, her eyes met Ryan’s, and she could tell he’d overheard everything. There was a lazy, teasing curl to his lips.

“Maple Grove is my place,” he said, drawing out the words, his gaze playful and a little challenging. “So, what do you think? Want to come over and hang out for a bit?”

Amelia hesitated, caught off guard.

She’d noticed that whatever Ryan said, it always managed to sound a bit suggestive.

“That’s really not necessary. If you could just drop me off at my apartment complex, Mr. Packman, that would be perfect.”

As soon as she called him “Mr. Packman,” the smile slid right off Ryan’s face. His eyes cooled and he said, “That’s too much work. I don’t feel like it.”

Amelia stared at him in disbelief.

Wasn’t she just being polite? Wouldn’t any normal person say, “It’s no trouble at all”?

Nathan, still on speakerphone, suddenly perked up.

Wait—Amelia was actually in Ryan’s car?

This was his moment to play the perfect wingman.

“Amelia, you should totally come to Maple Grove! It’s awesome. The WiFi is insane—crazy fast for gaming. There’s this huge outdoor pool, you could literally have a hundred people over for a party!”

He was practically bouncing with excitement as he hyped up Ryan’s place.

“And listen, Ryan’s basement has a fight club. Sometimes it gets wild, like you have to sign a waiver to get in the ring. Blood splatters everywhere, even on the audience—it’s nuts! And there’s a game room, but not just any game room. We call Ryan’s place mini-Vegas. How cool is that?”

The more Nathan talked, the more complicated Amelia’s expression became.

Nothing about that sounded normal.

Before Nathan could dig an even bigger hole, Ryan reached over, took Amelia’s phone, and hung up. He blocked Nathan’s number right after.

A second later, Ryan’s phone lit up with a text from Nathan: “Ryan, nailed that promo for you, right?” Plus a goofy meme.

Ryan’s mouth twitched. He blocked Nathan there too.

He looked over at Amelia. “You should hang out with Nathan less. He’ll rot your brain.”

“Okay,” she agreed easily. No point in arguing. Whether it was Ryan or Nathan, they were just passing through her life—lines that crossed for a moment, then drifted apart.

Ryan watched her, taking in her quiet, well-mannered demeanor. He could tell exactly what she was thinking.

Amelia had never let him into her world.

He’d have to find his own way in.

“Mr. Packman, could you stop somewhere that’s easy to get a cab? I’ll just go home on my own. No need to go out of your way,” she said, still warm and polite.

Since Ryan thought it was such a hassle, she’d just handle things herself. No big deal.

Ryan stayed silent.

So Amelia turned to the driver. “Excuse me, could you drop me at the next bus stop?”

But the car didn’t slow down at all—it just glided right past the stop.

Okay, the driver was only taking orders from Ryan.

Amelia closed her eyes, her mother’s face clear in her mind.

When she was little and scraped her knee, her mother’s eyes would go red from worry. Her grandfather would hurry to patch her up.

Back when the Sadinton family was still whole, their house was always lively. Even the old housekeeper, who’d worked there forever, loved Amelia and always blamed the uneven paths.

“Oh dear, these stones are too rough! I’ll get someone to fix them tomorrow!”

Amelia smiled to herself. All that happiness was like a dream now—almost twenty years gone.

Suddenly her chest tightened and tears welled up, catching her by surprise. Remembering Ryan was still there, she quickly turned toward the window and wiped her eyes.

Once she’d pulled herself together, she glanced back. Ryan looked like he was asleep, eyes closed and relaxed.

She let out a quiet breath, relieved.

What she didn’t see was Ryan, as soon as she turned away, opening his eyes to watch her.

Elsewhere, under the cover of night—

Two motorcycles pulled up at the mouth of a filthy alley.

Four men got off, two of them limping, helped into a shabby little house.

The one who looked the worst was the guy who’d tried to smash Amelia’s head in with a club.

He yanked off his helmet, revealing a rough, scarred face with a thick beard and only one eye—a deep, jagged scar ran from his brow down his nose, the mark of the wound that had left him half-blind.

Tonight, he’d come so close. Just a little more and he would have split Amelia’s skull and finally gotten revenge for the eye she’d lost to her.