Karma Doesn’t Sleep: The Revenge Queen Rises novel Chapter 136

Ryan was the only one left in the car. He tapped on the voice message and held his phone up to his ear.

The voice that came through was soft, with laughter threaded through it. It felt like a kitten’s paw brushing over the most sensitive part of his heart, waking up feelings he thought were long dead, setting something new and hopeful growing inside him.

Three minutes later, Ryan rapped on the car window, motioning for Francisco to get in.

Francisco looked back, unsure. “Mr. Packman, did something good happen?” He couldn’t help noticing how Ryan was actually smiling—grinning so wide it looked impossible to hold back.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, cocky as ever. “What’s it to you?”

Even as he said it, the smile stayed on his face.

Francisco couldn’t believe it. Stranger still, he was pretty sure he saw Mr. Packman’s ears turning red.

Just then, Ryan’s phone rang. It was Nathan.

“Ryan, come out with us tonight.”

Nathan didn’t expect much—most times, Ryan ignored these invites.

But tonight, Ryan was in a rare good mood. “Where?”

Nathan was stunned for a second, then practically lit up. “The Hollow Beat, second floor. I’ll send you the location!”

—

Amelia had been on her feet all day. Now, finally tucked into the warm car, she felt herself nodding off.

A sudden crash of thunder jolted her awake.

Rain was coming down in sheets outside, the sky so dark it felt like the middle of the night.

Her phone buzzed.

She glanced down, her eyes immediately turning cold. It was a message from Clive. Just an address.

Clive: [Cameron and the guys are all here. It’s been a while. Come hang out.]

He always acted like she’d come running the second he called, like she was some loyal dog desperate for his attention.

Amelia stared at the typing bubble, her expression unreadable.

A few seconds later, another message.

[It’s pouring. Want me to send a car for you?]

Amelia let out a cold, quiet laugh.

So he knew it was raining. He also knew she didn’t have a car. Clive’s so-called concern was just empty words now—sugar on top of something rotten. If he actually cared, he’d do something about it, not ask questions he already knew the answer to.

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