Karma Doesn’t Sleep: The Revenge Queen Rises novel Chapter 7

Kristen was wrapped around Clive’s waist, the two of them framed by tulips that Kristen had planted herself. It was the kind of pretty scene you’d see on a postcard—if you could ignore how fake it felt.

Amelia let out a dry, almost sarcastic snort.

She watched as Clive carefully pulled away from Kristen, reached into his pocket, and handed her the lipstick she’d accidentally left behind. They talked for a moment, and then Kristen stretched up on her toes, clearly trying to kiss him. That was Amelia’s cue to look away; she just couldn’t stomach it anymore. She turned from the window and slowly made her way into the walk-in closet, her steps unsteady.

The closet was huge. Her clothes took up one whole side—mostly soft, simple dresses in muted colors, all calm and gentle.

Clive liked her in light colors.

She never liked them herself. She only wore white dresses because Clive once said she looked beautiful in them. So she started dressing to fit his tastes, not her own.

The realization made Amelia feel ridiculous.

She slid open a hidden compartment in the wardrobe. Inside were her ID, passport, bank cards, two cell phones, and a thick envelope stuffed with papers.

The envelope was stamped with the name of a university. Just seeing it made her heart clench.

She glanced at it for barely a second before looking away.

That envelope was full of things she’d never sent, which was her biggest regret all these years.

She picked up one of the phones and unlocked it, scrolling through her contacts.

Thank God, everyone was still there.

She called her best friend, Diana.

The phone had barely started ringing when Diana picked up.

Diana’s voice was trembling with excitement. “Amelia? Is that you?” She didn’t even wait for an answer before launching into a rant. “If you’re not my precious Amelia and you’re that bastard Clive calling to bug me while I’m trying to sleep, I swear I’ll roast you on Twitter tomorrow! My eight million followers would eat you alive!”

Amelia couldn’t help but laugh, feeling that warm, familiar comfort she hadn’t felt in so long. “Diana, it’s me.”

The other end went silent. But Amelia knew Diana too well. She held the phone away from her ear and counted down in her head: three, two, one...

Then there was a scream. “Oh my God! Amelia! You’re awake! I missed you so much! Are you at home or in the hospital? Send me your address, I’m coming over right now and I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Amelia wanted nothing more than to see her best friend, but she knew she couldn’t—not yet.

“Diana, I can’t see you just yet. But I need your help with two things.”

“Say the word! What do you need?” Diana’s voice turned fierce. “If you want, I’ll hire someone to take out that bastard Clive. You spent five years in a coma because of him!”

That was Diana—always ready to go to war for her.

Amelia smiled quietly, then got down to business. “Diana, I need you to look into Clive’s assistant, Kristen. The more details, the better.”

The name hit Amelia like a punch. She knew it by heart.

The name danced through her thoughts, bringing with it the image of a man too beautiful to be real, with just enough danger to make it thrilling. She couldn't forget him, no matter how hard she tried.

The last time she’d seen Ryan was seven years ago, at the airport.

She’d gotten a call from Clive just as she was about to board. At the last minute, she’d turned around, and Ryan was the only one who tried to stop her.

He’d stood there, tall and lean, blocking out the sun. The evening light threw his sharp features into shadow, making his dark eyes look even more cold and intense.

Ryan always seemed aloof, detached, like he was too cool to really care about anything. Amelia had never seen him lose his composure.

But that day, his eyes were ice. She could see herself reflected in them—small, uncertain, and so, so lost.

She remembered the last thing Ryan said to her.

He looked down at her, his lips pressed into a razor-thin line. “Amelia, is it worth it?”

She never answered him. She just walked past, head held high, stubborn as ever—like a moth to a flame.

Now, at last, she had an answer.

Amelia stared at her pale, thin reflection in the mirror and spoke silently, just for herself: No, it wasn’t worth it. But Ryan, I’ll clean up the mess I made myself.