THE REVENGE OF THE RAGDOLL

One night later, I found myself in front of a mirror, committing atrocities I once swore I’d never return to.

“I hope I’ve done this right,” I muttered, applying a layer of red lip gloss and smacking my lips twice. It had been ages since I used this much makeup on this face. A touch of eyeliner, some skin-tone enhancements, a swirl of blush—and somehow, I already looked like someone else entirely. As though I’d undergone a face transplant.

I mean… what’s the difference between this and wearing a mask?

“I hope Harold can still recognize me under all this makeup,” I whispered, exhaling deeply as I stared into the mirror. Ever since the fire that freed me from my previous marriage, I’d hidden from the world. I prayed I would slowly fade out of existence, drowning in shame and regret until I finally gathered the courage to end my life.

Now, I’m beyond grateful that never happened. I’m glad I went to those therapy sessions, even though they were annoying, exhausting, and emotionally draining. I’m glad I met Harold. For the first time in four years, I could feel my life taking a good turn.

“I sure hope I don’t fuck this up,” I breathed, smoothing the fabric of my gown.

Just as I stepped out of the bathroom, the doorbell rang—the cab driver was here.

“Gimme a second!” I called out, walking quickly around the living room to turn off the lights.

The TV was still on. The generic tone of the anchorwoman’s voice grated on me—the emotionless, dry delivery made her sound robotic.

“Former CEO of the largest pharmaceutical company in New York City, Medi-Tech, billionaire Richard Angelo was released on bail just three days ago. He’s already preparing a big comeback, reportedly reassuming his position at the company,” she announced.

I gulped, heart stuttering as I watched footage of him being escorted into a helicopter. That smug expression on his face made my headache creep in.

“I know my recent case has caused many of our loyal supporters to lose their faith in our company and its… credibility,” Richard began, standing at a podium before a crowd of journalists and supporters. “But I assure you, what happened between me and my ex-wife was a complete misunderstanding. She made her accusations, hired lawyers to lie on her behalf, and took a small bite out of my wealth—but that’s all.”

My breathing grew shallow. My eyes locked on the screen, on his face—that grin I used to dread.

“Despite it all, I’m here today, stronger than ever. Proud to say justice has found its way to my doorstep. And she—she’s nothing but an oil stain in my legacy that time will erase. No one will remember her. But she will remember the name Richard Angelo for as long as she liv—”

I turned off the TV before he could finish.

I backed away, collapsed onto the couch, gasping. My eyes widened in horror as all the memories I thought I’d buried came flooding back. His voice. His hands. That house. That fire.

I clutched the sides of my head, tears welling in my eyes, pressing hard as if I could physically force the memories away. I gritted my teeth in pain, every nerve in my body screaming.

I opened my mouth to scream.

The doorbell rang again.

“Lady Angel? Are you in there?” The driver’s voice yanked me back into reality.

I had a party to attend.

I grabbed my purse, straightened my dress, and hurried toward the door. I flicked off the lights and pulled the door open.

The driver stood there with a smile. He wore a sharp suit—elegant enough for the event himself.

“I’m… so sorry for the delay,” I stammered. “I—”

My words stopped short as I caught sight of the vehicle parked outside.

A long black limo, its golden stripes gleaming in the fading sunlight. Golden rims, tinted windows that shimmered like crystal. Neighbors passing by slowed to gawk, their curiosity obvious.

“Umm… this must be a mistake,” I said, confused. “Harold said he’d send a cab. Like… a regular taxi.”

“You were invited by Lord Harold to the Washington Hall event in Brooklyn, correct?” The driver asked.

“Well… yes. I mean, I don’t know about Lord Harold,” I said, emphasizing the title with skepticism.

“Let’s go, Miss Angel. Lord Harold is waiting for you. We have no time to waste,” the driver said with calm authority, already turning back toward the limo.

I followed, my heels clicking against the pavement. Each step felt heavier than the last.

He opened the door for me, and I stepped inside.

The interior of the limo glowed red—walls, cushions, even the light fixtures. Everything was lush, luxurious, seductive. A small wine bar, low jazz humming through the speakers, velvet seats soft enough to drown in. The lights shifted colors every few minutes—red to blue, then yellow. I counted. I had nothing else to do.

Outside the window, the streets rolled past: traffic, neon signs, strangers going about their lives. My stomach twisted into knots. I was about to meet Harold’s family, and I’d known him for less than a week.

What if they hate me? What if I ruin everything?

Just then, my phone buzzed. A message from Harold.

“Are you on your way?”

I replied: “Yeah. Left the house about 10 minutes ago.”

The typing bubbles appeared almost immediately.

“Great. I was afraid you’d change your mind. Thanks for not changing your mind.”

I smiled softly.

—

We arrived at Washington Hall twenty minutes later. The sun had vanished completely, and the moon hung high in the navy sky.

The limo pulled up amid a parade of luxury cars. I couldn’t stop staring. My stomach was a tangled knot of nerves.

The driver stepped out and opened the door for me. I took his hand and stepped out into the cool night air.

The entrance was guarded by a wall of towering men in black suits. As we approached, they blocked our path.

“Your invitation,” one said firmly.

“Umm…” I fumbled in my purse, heart racing. “Oh!” I pulled out the black card Harold gave me.

They inspected it, nodded, and stepped aside.

We climbed a grand flight of stairs, my heart thudding with every step. At the top, just beyond the entrance—

Harold stood, waiting.

And for the first time all evening, my lips curled into a warm smile.