Page 13 of Abundance of Obsession

“Gotcha,” I whisper.

My attention shifts to the left-hand monitor, displaying a live feed from Nathaniel’s laptop camera.

He’s pale as a sheet. With a quick blink, he tries to banish the image, his lips parting in a gasp of surprise. Or, to put it another way, dumbfounded by his own vision.

On the screen, his balance is melting away, the six-figure sum disappearing by the second.

“What the fuck!” he yells over and over again.

Poor little boy.

Nathaniel was doing pretty well for a kid raised in foster care. The initial state of his bank account proves it. He should also be glad that he’s the first and least significant pawn in my scheme of revenge.

He wasn’t the worst. Didn’t hit. Wasn’t the cruelest.

Still, he was one of them.

And now it’s time for him to pay for it.

The current events are a mystery to Nathaniel. He can’t take his eyes off the screen.

Click, click, click. Without warning, he hammers away at the keyboard in a panic, working to grasp the issue and bring it to an end.

But it’s already too late. No transfer he supposedly just made from his account can be reversed. I took care of every detail. Locked every door behind me.

“Shit, shit, shit… This can’t be true. What the hell is going on?”

“Karma’s kissing your ass,” I say, though he can’t hear me.

Watching the panic spread across his face, seeing him pull at his hair, is satisfying. That’s an understatement.

It’s like a fucking orgasm. And he hasn’t even laid a finger on me.

Accompanied by his curses, I glance at the central monitor. Ten. Nine. Eight…

The last few dollars fly out of his account like birds from a cage.

Two. One. Zero!

A beautiful, fat zero is Nathaniel Braws’s new account balance. He’s now officially bankrupt.

A piercing scream shatters the silence of the apartment. His scream. But from my throat bursts an uncontrollable laugh. A madman’s laughter.

When I calm down, I look at him again. He’s staring straight into the lens. His chocolate-brown eyes hold a quiet, gnawing sadness. Tears are streaming down his cheeks.

I take in every detail of this sight. Hopefully, I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.

“What did you do? Are you happy? I’m a dead man! They’re going to kill me,” he gasps in a choked voice.

“Don’t worry, Nathaniel. You’ve just become the philanthropist of the year. All those orphanages and foundations will be grateful to you. It’s not my fault you washed mafia money. And maybe there’s still hope you’ll get out of this unscathed. Or almost unscathed. Good luck.”

With a few more clicks, I disconnect his computer. Turn off all the monitors and enjoy my first win.

With a newfound lightness, I get up and fling myself onto the bed. The smile won’t leave my face.

It’ll be more difficult with the next person than it was with Nathaniel. Who cares? No one’s taking this moment away from me.

My eyelids droop and, overflowing with satisfaction, I let myself sleep through those twenty-eight hours.