It's Never Too Late for Revenge

15 years ago, my father fell severely ill. Out of desperation, I sold one of my kidneys to raise the 300,000 dollars required for his treatment. Who would've thought that the moment the money reached my bank account, my wife, Isabella Marten, would transfer it all away? With the money meant to save my father's life, for which I'd sacrificed a kidney, she bought her brother-in-law, Phil Gentry, a luxury car. Dad passed away on the very night his surgery was scheduled because I couldn't afford the fees. Yet, with Phil at her side, Isabella chose that moment when I was at my most anguished to bring up the topic of divorce. My mother, Gloria Sonnier, was so enraged that she suffered a heart attack right then and there. The medical personnel on scene also hurled insults at Isabella in righteous anger. However, I readily agreed to Isabella's demands and even voluntarily walked away from the marriage with nothing. Thanks to my actions, Mom severed ties with me on the spot, and I became notorious among our relatives for being a wretched ingrate. I never bother to explain myself. It's not until 15 years later that I hear of Isabella and Phil's daughter getting accepted into the police academy. I contact the Office of Personnel Management. My opportunity for revenge, for which I've waited 15 years, is finally at hand. Chapter 1 My call to the Office of Personnel Management was answered quickly. "Hello, this is the Office of Personnel Management. How may I help you?" With a hand pressed to my chest to calm my racing heart, I replied in a shaky voice, "I'd like to file a report." The operator's tone immediately sobered at my words. "A report? Sir, please inform us of the situation and personnel involved in detail." I took a deep breath. "I'd like to report a new cadet you admitted just this year named Jennifer Gentry. Her father is a morally corrupt person who had an affair with his own sister-in-law and even defaulted on a massive debt." The operator was stunned. "Are your claims true? This entire conversation will be documented and kept on record, so please bear responsibility for your claims." I replied firmly, "They're true. I swear on my honor." How could they possibly be false? I'd been internally preparing for this reveal for 15 years, after all. I'd imagined this scene countless times, rehearsing every word time and again. "Alright, sir. I'll report this to my supervisor right now. He'll speak directly with you shortly, so please wait a moment." After acknowledging the operator's words, I heard the sounds of serious conversation coming from the other end of the receiver. "What? Jennifer Gentry was reported?" "Yes, sir. I double-checked." "Surely not. Jennifer is among the top performers from this batch of new cadets..." "The person who made the report is still on the line." "Alright. I'll speak with him." I picked at the wall's surface in my nervousness. That was the one problem with cheap houses—pick at a flake in the plaster and a whole chunk of it would come off. When I held my palm face up, a thick layer of plaster flakes landed on it, much like the gloomy, dusty life I'd led for the past 15 years. Someone picked up the call again. "Hello, sir. May I inquire as to your identity?" The corners of my mouth tugged into a smile. "I'm the original spouse of Jennifer's mother, the very man whom she cheated on back then." After a few seconds of stunned silence from the other end, the man continued, "Alright. Please go ahead." I clenched my fists, then allowed my own voice to drag me back through memories I'd long sealed away. "15 years ago, my father fell severely ill..." We were just an ordinary family, so Mom and I were left shell-shocked by the astronomical surgery costs. We borrowed money from everyone we knew, yet the amount was still like a drop in the bucket compared to what we needed. During that period of time, it felt like Mom and I shed an entire lifetime's worth of tears. It was also then that I learned how true it was that when someone reached the limits of their grief, they would no longer be capable of tears. In the end, Mom and I would numbly keep vigil outside Dad's hospital room every day. Upon getting up after another sleepless night to see Mom hitting her own head and calling herself useless, I finally made up my mind. Behind everyone's backs, I found a covert channel through which I made contact with an intermediary involved in the underground organ trade. I was still young back then. After sizing me up like merchandise for a good while, the intermediary eventually offered me 300,000 dollars for one of my kidneys. It just so happened to be the exact amount we needed for Dad's surgery. I shakily lay down on the operating table. I would never forget the process of having my kidney removed. Conditions at the illegal clinic were terrible, and they only used the cheapest of anesthetics. My nails dug into my palms so hard that they bled from the pain of having one of my kidneys removed. I stumbled out of the clinic, hunched over and in tears, only to rush straight to the hospital without even pausing to catch my breath. And yet, when the time came to pay the hospital bills, the bank card that I always kept close to me kept getting denied. When I frantically questioned the bank teller, I was told that the funds that arrived that morning had been withdrawn in a single transaction almost immediately afterward by the cardholder herself—my wife, Isabella Marten. My eyes widened in disbelief. Back at the hospital, I desperately dialed Isabella's number. After countless calls, someone finally picked up on the other end. However, the person in question was not Isabella but her brother-in-law, Phil Gentry. Chapter 2 "Oh, it's you," Phil said with an indescribable hint of smugness in his voice. "Why are you looking for Isabella? She's too busy helping me pick out a luxury car to spare time for you right now." In that instant, my heart sank like a stone. I'd actually noticed that Isabella and Phil were having an affair for a while now. Back then, I'd had a huge fight with her, and divorce was in the cards, but then Dad had fallen severely ill. I spent every day at Dad's bedside in the hospital, so I hadn't really been in touch with her during that time. Naturally, I hadn't noticed that her relationship with Phil had progressed to such an extent that they stopped bothering to hide it. "Get Isabella on the phone! That money was an emergency fund for Dad! What right does she have to take it?" Phil scoffed. "What emergency fund? Isabella said that the money was just sitting there, so we might as well use it to buy something substantial. It just so happens that I had my eye on a Rolls-Royce Cullinan that costs exactly 300,000 dollars. "This is simply the will of heaven. It'd be a waste of money to treat your father's illness anyway, so you might as well consider the money your blessing toward our relationship. "I was the one who was supposed to marry her anyway, and she promised to buy me a luxury car ages ago. I really must thank you for the 300,000 dollars." I heard Isabella's impatient voice from the other end of the line. "Why are you still wasting words with him? I've already paid for the car, so let's drive it back to the hotel." Phil immediately burst into laughter and even chided her jokingly, "You little imp. Are you really that impatient to get into my pants?" He then hung up. No matter how many times I called again, nobody picked up the phone. I spent hours wildly making phone calls and asking every friend I knew about Isabella's whereabouts, only to learn that she'd taken Phil on a trip to the northern states a few days earlier. It would take at least six hours to get there from my current location. Dad didn't have that much time left. I couldn't remember how I returned to the hospital room. All I remembered was Mom's hopeful expression as she looked at me and asked, "Didn't you say you managed to borrow the money, Adrian? The doctor said that if we don't pay the fees now, it'll be too late to save Cedric!" I met Mom's earnest gaze, then looked at Dad, who was breathing weakly on the hospital bed. I opened my mouth but could not make a sound. I collapsed right there in the hospital from the combined shock of losing a kidney and then suffering such a traumatic experience. When I next woke up, Mom was sitting by my bedside with bloodshot eyes, looking as if she'd aged ten years in a single night. "Adrian, your father's gone." Half an hour after I lost consciousness, Dad closed his eyes for the last time, having missed the optimal timing for surgery. Mom had watched in despair as Dad slowly breathed his last while still having to care for me at my bedside. I didn't know exactly what she felt that night. All I recalled was her graying hair. Mom asked me tearfully, "Didn't you manage to borrow the money? Why… Why did things turn out like this?" I sobbed as I told Mom what had happened, though I withheld the fact that I'd sold my kidney for money. I only mentioned that Isabella had spent everything. Mom, already pale as a sheet, looked even frailer. After explaining things to her, I struggled to get out of bed. I stumbled along with the IV drip still attached to my arm, wanting to see Dad for the last time. As I wept over Dad's body, I saw the two people I least expected to see. Isabella and Phil actually turned up at the hospital. They weren't here to repent, nor were they here to visit Dad. The two of them stood arm-in-arm, looking condescendingly down at me. In Phil's hand, the brand new key to the luxury car glinted under the lights of the hospital corridor, cold and glaring. I stared blankly at the key, dazed. Isabella walked over to me, glanced at Dad's face, and cursed him for being bad luck. Then, she said disdainfully to me, "Your Dad's dead anyway, so you can save yourself the hassle. This is perfect timing—let's get a divorce. I want to marry Phil." Mom trembled with anger at her words. She jabbed a finger in Isabella's direction and yelled, "You damn bitch! Where do you get the nerve to say such a thing? You were the one who—" Mom was too agitated to breathe properly. Her face turned blue, and she fell backward with a hand to her chest. I rushed over to her in panic. "Mom!" Nearby medical personnel rushed over to provide emergency aid. It was complete chaos. A nurse who knew of our situation recognized Isabella and Phil. She was so furious that she yelled at them on the spot, "Do you even have any decency in you? You used their emergency funds to buy yourself a luxury car, then came to the hospital to rub things in! You're the lowest of the low!" Amid the shouting and the chaos, I gazed at Mom, who was unconscious. I then looked at cold, heartless Isabella and smug Phil with dead calm. I took a deep breath, exhausted all my strength to stand, and said calmly to Isabella, "Okay. I agree to the divorce." Isabella was momentarily caught off guard, but then she smiled with delight. "A smart move! I've already spent all 300,000 dollars, so don't even think about getting it back!" I nodded expressionlessly. "Sure. I'm willing to walk away from this marriage with nothing." "Adrian! Have you gone mad?" Mom, whom the paramedics had just barely resuscitated, cried out at me in anguish, "Your father only just died! You… You ingrate! Are you going to give up on avenging him—or even me—for the sake of that bitch? "Get lost! You're no son of mine!" The surrounding relatives and medical personnel were also looking at me with disbelief—even contempt, for some—in their eyes. I heard them calling me a spineless coward and a wretched ingrate. I heard them insulting me for disregarding my own father's death for the sake of one woman. Phil had his arm around Isabella and a smug grin on his face. I didn't attempt to explain myself. I simply signed the divorce agreement. Mom severed all ties with me right then and there. Isabella swaggered off in Phil's embrace. Mom kicked me out as well, yelling that I didn't deserve to be in Dad's presence ever again. I shuffled out of the city like a zombie, rented myself a cheap but dilapidated house to stay in, and started living elsewhere. I didn't return for the next 15 years. Chapter 3 Over the next 15 years, having lost a kidney and endured such trauma, my health was consistently poor. I couldn't take on any heavy labor, and my earnings were barely enough to support myself. I always lived in the cheapest rental houses available in the city slums. Every day, I'd collapse onto the rickety bed after work, and the night would be over in the blink of an eye. I didn't delete Isabella's contact information from my phone. She hadn't deleted me from her WhatsApp either, perhaps because I'd so readily agreed to the divorce back then, so she was satisfied with my performance. For the past 15 years, I'd watched her and Phil live their lives as a silent spectator. She'd married Phil after our divorce, and they'd held a grand wedding. Isabella was very proud of Phil's daughter, whom he and Isabella had conceived behind my back while I was still married to her. Her social media had become an album tracking Jennifer's growth—the awards she won, her academic rankings, her admission to a prestigious middle school. Just yesterday, I came across Isabella's latest post on her timeline. In the very center of a nine-grid set of photos was a photo of a spirited young woman dressed in a police cadet's uniform. Isabella's caption for it read, "Congratulations to my daughter Jennifer for passing both the physical examination and interview for the police academy! She had her heart set on this academy ever since scoring among the top ten in the city for sciences! "It's only a matter of time before she brings honor to our family! Her ancestors must be so proud!" I stared at the post for an entire night. Then, as the sun began to rise, I let out my first genuine laugh in 15 years. I laughed like a maniac, tears streaming freely down my face. I hadn't cried since the night Mom drove me away. Over the past 15 years, countless friends and relatives had scorned me for being a spineless ingrate after severing ties with me. They'd cursed me for overlooking Dad's death for the sake of a woman, but I didn't care what they thought. I waited alone for 15 years until I finally had the opportunity I wanted. "That's how everything unfolded, and the details of what I wished to report." It was only then that I realized my voice had gone hoarse from speaking. It made sense—I'd barely spoken to anyone for the past 15 years. Although I lived in a big city, I lived like an insect in the shadows, barely sustaining myself while clinging to a single conviction. After listening to my account, the supervisor was silent for a long time—long enough that I thought he'd hung up on me. Eventually, he said, "Sir, we've made a detailed record of your report. Can you guarantee that every word of it is true, and that you're willing to be held accountable for it?" "I can," I replied resolutely. "Alright. Thank you for your report. We'll form an investigative team to thoroughly verify your account immediately. During our investigation, we'll suspend Jennifer Gentry's vetting process." After hanging up, I collapsed to the floor as if I'd expended 15 years' worth of energy at once. 15 years. I'd waited 15 years for this. Dad, did you know? This lowly insect had finally found a blade fit for its revenge, and it was now about to transform into a vengeful demon.