All Chapters of The Revenge Club: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

*Roanne’s POV*Sebastian’s words slurred around the edges as he joked with someone I couldn't see. "Didn't think bookworms partied this hard," he quipped upon noticing me, a lopsided grin spreading across his face."Maybe bookworms are full of surprises," I shot back, my words more confident than I felt. Everything in me was screaming to get away, but I couldn’t show him that."Care to surprise me with a dance?" he held out a hand, but it was more challenging than invitation, his eyes darkened by the alcohol."Another time, maybe," I replied. It was a lie as big as I could muster, but in a public place like this, I needed to keep peace and avoid the drama."Playing hard to get? I like it," he said, his tone teasing but his eyes serious, probing."Or maybe just playing smart," I countered, holding his gaze for a moment longer than necessary before breaking away. I refused to let him see the panic forming inside of me.I turned back to Lila and Ryan, forcing a smile, letting the

*Roanne’s POV*As I moved between classes, the weight of my textbooks in my arms was like a shield against the world. Some days, the Ivy League halls felt like a fortress, my sanctuary from memories too raw to touch. The familiar scent of old books and the murmur of ambitious minds were a balm to the chaos that once threatened to consume me."Roanne! Wait up!" A voice pierced through the hum of activity, and I turned to see Jenna, a new friend I made yesterday, her smile an anchor in the sea of faces. We fell into step, navigating the throng of students spilling out of lecture halls."Did you finish the assignment for Professor Klein?" she asked, her eyes bright with the unbridled enthusiasm of someone who had not tasted darkness as I had."Last night," I replied, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "I couldn't sleep, so I figured I might as well be productive.""God, you're a machine," she said with a laugh, nudging me playfully. "How about we grab coffee after class?""

*Aaron’s POV*The muted glow of dawn barely filtered through the heavy silk drapes, casting long shadows across my dorm room's expanse of polished oak and leather-bound tomes. I sat there, perched on the edge of a bed that cost more than most people's annual rent, feeling the weight of golden shackles tighten around my wrists.Burdened by legacy, I was expected to play the dutiful heir, but every fiber of my being screamed for rebellion against this gilded cage.The ring of my phone sliced through the morning stillness like the peal of some ominous bell tolling my fate. I glanced at the caller ID—Father—and felt my stomach churn with a familiar cocktail of anticipation and dread."Good evening, Aaron," came his voice, crisp and authoritative, as if he were opening a board meeting rather than speaking to his son."Evening, Dad," I replied, my tone flat, betraying none of the turmoil within. "To what do I owe the pleasure?""Your grades, Aaron." There was a pause, and I could alm

*Roanne’s POV*The world was a smudge of grey when I peeled my eyes open, the predawn light barely scraping through the blinds. Sleep had been an elusive predator, circling me with silent steps, always just out of reach. I lay there in the half-light, a tangle of sheets and heavy limbs.Gingerly, I reached up to feel the tender spots on my neck, wincing at the contact. My fingers traced the dark blooms of bruises, a cruel garden Sebastian had planted with possessive hands. A sigh escaped me as I turned to face my reflection in the mirror, confronting the canvas of my pain. The girl who stared back was a stranger — pale, her blond locks in dishevelment, her green eyes clouded with unshed tears.‘Cover it up, Roanne,’ I whispered to myself, reaching for the silk scarf hanging over the chair. Its softness was a lie as it grazed my skin, hiding the marks with a careful drape. I chose a light jacket next, one that clung to my form without pressing too close to the bruises on my arm. The

*Roanne’s POV*The folder had felt like salvation in my hands, a paper shield crafted by Caleb's digital sword. I settled into the creaking embrace of my desk chair, the dim light of dawn peering through my dorm room blinds.Fingers trembling with something akin to excitement, I peeled back the cover of the folder. The meticulous arrangement of schedules, the crisp printouts outlining my academic life rearranged, danced before my eyes. Each page fluttered like a hesitant heartbeat as I flipped through them, the gravity of what Caleb had done settling deep within my bones."Roanne," the note began, in Caleb's calculated scrawl, "It's done. Sebastian won't be an issue; not in your classes, not on your path. Your classes are now always at the opposite side of campus as his." I imagined him hunched over his computer, lines of code reflecting in his steely gaze—his way of righting wrongs that the justice system failed to address.A hacker's sense of justice, dark and unquestionable. M