The next morning, Bourbon Street was quiet.
The same restaurant that had witnessed Shayla’s humiliation the night before now looked ordinary — but to her, it was a battlefield.
Her name had been dragged through whispers, her pride shattered under flashing phone cameras.
She hadn’t slept. All night she replayed Amber’s words, Anthony’s eyes, the way the crowd stared at her like she was a villain in a story she didn’t even write.
But maybe… she could rewrite it.
Standing in front of the mirror, her reflection almost unrecognizable — mascara smudged, eyes red — but that spark of defiance was still there.
Shayla: “They think I’m the problem… let’s show them what the real problem looks like.”
By noon, Amber’s confrontation had gone viral.
Every reel, every clip, every gossip page carried her name.
> “Shayla caught cheating again.”
“Amber finally puts Shayla in her place.”
The comments were brutal.
Anthony tried to call her once — she didn’t answer.
The second time, she picked up.
Anthony: “Shayla… I didn’t want it to go like that.”
Shayla: laughs bitterly “You didn’t want it to go like that? But you let her humiliate me anyway. You sat there like a coward while she ripped me apart.”
Anthony: “Shayla—”
Shayla: “No, Anthony. You don’t get to say my name like that anymore.” She hung up.
Hours passed. Shayla opened her laptop and started typing.
Every message, every photo, every voice note — she still had it all.
The evidence of how Anthony and Amber’s relationship had really started… and the lies they fed her while pretending to be just friends.
Her hands trembled, but her heart felt steady. For the first time, she wasn’t crying — she was calculating.
Later that evening, she dressed in black and drove back to the same restaurant.
Not for dinner — but for closure.
She left a small envelope with the hostess and a note:
> “Deliver this to Amber when she arrives tomorrow. She’ll know who it’s from.”
Inside the envelope were screenshots — Anthony’s old texts to Shayla.
The ones that said, “I still think about you,” even while he was with Amber.
The next day, Amber came in for lunch with a friend.
When she opened the envelope, her smile vanished.
Her face went pale.
Her friend asked what was wrong, but Amber said nothing — she just stood up and walked out.
That night, Anthony’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.
Amber’s voice shook when she finally spoke:
Amber: “You told me you were done with her! You lied again!”
Anthony: silent — because deep down, he knew Shayla hadn’t fabricated anything.
She’d only revealed what was already there.
But Shayla wasn’t celebrating.
Sitting alone in her car, she realized revenge didn’t heal — it hollowed her out even more.
The power she thought she wanted suddenly felt heavy.
Her phone buzzed — a message from an unknown number.
> “You won, Shayla. But at what cost?”
She didn’t recognize the number, but the message cut deep.
Looking at the rain hitting her windshield, she whispered:
Shayla: “At least now… they’ll think twice before crossing me.”
Then she smiled faintly — that same dangerous, broken smile she wore when everything first fell apart.
The city lights blurred through her tears as she drove off into the night.
She didn’t know where she was going — redemption, revenge, or something in between — but one thing was certain:
Shayla was done being the victim.
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