The Useful Tool's Revenge

For two years, I lived a lie in a rundown apartment, risking everything for Matthew – the man I believed was my future. I was an elite undercover investigative journalist, but I became his 'freelance stringer,' gathering intel, dodging bullets, all to help him reclaim his detective career.

Then came the ambush. Shots fired, a bullet in my shoulder, another grazing my leg. As I lay bleeding, Matthew' s voice crackled over my comms: "She' s a useful tool... I' m feeding all this intel straight to Stella. My sister' s going to be the most powerful woman in this city."

My world shattered. The intel I' d bled for wasn' t for justice; it was a stepping stone for his sister' s social climbing. He wasn' t just using me; he orchestrated my attack, laughing at my sacrifice.

Returning to him, broken and exposed, Matthew offered a fake apology and a glittering necklace, trying to pull me back into his deception. He called it love. I knew it was a chain. How could I have been so blind, so stupid?

But Jocelyn Fuller wasn' t naive anymore. I let him think he still had me, but I reactivated a hidden bug. I watched as he and his sister, intertwined in my supposed "safe house," openly mocked me, celebrating their manipulative plot. That' s when the useful tool decided to break free and turn the game on them.

My name is Jocelyn Fuller, and for the last two years, I' ve willingly lived in a rundown apartment in the worst part of the city.

I did it for love.

I did it for my boyfriend, Matthew Scott, a detective who was demoted to desk duty after a big case went bad.

He told me it was a setup, that a jealous rival leaked his informant' s name, ruining his career.

So, I put my life on hold. I told him I was a freelance stringer, barely making ends meet, and I started using my real skills to help him.

The truth is, I' m one of the best undercover investigative journalists in the country. My real boss, Andrew Lester, the owner of a national news network, provides me with everything I need-high-tech gear, resources, and complete anonymity.

For Matthew, I walked into the heart of a dangerous drug ring. I risked my life, gathering intel he could use to get back on his feet, to impress his captain, to become the man I thought he was.

I did it all for him, without a second thought.

Tonight, that all ended.

The intel was solid, a ledger detailing the drug ring' s entire supply chain. I was supposed to drop it for Matthew' s contact in a deserted warehouse by the industrial canal.

But it was a setup.

The moment I placed the drive down, the warehouse doors slammed shut and gunfire erupted from the shadows.

A bullet tore through my shoulder. The pain was sharp, intense. I dropped behind a stack of crates, pulling out my own weapon and firing back.

Another bullet grazed my leg. I gritted my teeth, the warm stickiness of blood spreading through my jeans.

Through the chaos, my comms device, a direct line to Matthew, crackled to life.

But it wasn' t his voice I heard first. It was his partner, laughing.

"You really got her wrapped around your finger, man. She does all the dirty work, and you get all the credit."

Then, Matthew' s voice, slick and arrogant, filled my ear.

"She' s a useful tool, that' s for sure. A little naive, but she gets the job done. Thinks she' s helping me get my career back."

He laughed, a cold, ugly sound.

"The best part? All this intel she' s risking her life for... I' m feeding it straight to Stella. She' s using it to get close to Councilman Roberts. My sister' s going to be the most powerful woman in this city."

My world stopped. The gunfire, the pain in my shoulder, it all faded away.

The evidence I just got shot for wasn't for justice. It was just a gift for his sister' s social climbing.

My blood ran cold.

I felt the rage build inside me, a hot fire that burned away the pain. I finished the fight, not for him, but for myself. I took down the two shooters, my movements precise and cold.

Then, bleeding and broken, I stumbled out of the warehouse. My vision was blurry, my hands stained with my own blood.

All I could see was their faces. Matthew and his sister, Stella. Laughing.

My heart felt like it had been torn out of my chest. The physical wounds were nothing compared to this.

I drove myself to a cheap motel, my body screaming in protest. I patched myself up, my hands shaking so badly I could barely wrap the bandages.

The whole time, I replayed his words in my head.

"A useful tool."

I had given him everything, and he had given me nothing but lies.

I found them at Stella' s trendy downtown apartment. The party was in full swing, music pounding through the walls.

I didn' t bother knocking. I used a lockpick and walked right in.

They were in the living room, surrounded by a crowd of people. Matthew had his arm around Stella, who was smiling up at him, looking like the picture of innocence.

I walked straight toward them. The crowd parted as they saw the look on my face, the bloodstains on my clothes.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice low and steady.

Matthew' s smile vanished. "Jocelyn? What the hell are you doing here? You look like a mess."

"I was just at the warehouse," I said, my eyes locked on his. "The one you sent me to."

Stella immediately clung to his arm, her eyes wide with fake fear. "Matthew, who is this? She' s scaring me."

"It' s nothing, baby," he said to her, his voice soft. Then he turned to me, his expression hardening. "Don' t be crazy, Jocelyn. You' re making a scene."

"Crazy?" I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "You called me a tool, Matthew. You used me."

I pulled out my phone and played the recording from my comms. His voice filled the suddenly silent room, bragging about manipulating me, about giving the intel to Stella.

Stella gasped, tears welling up in her eyes. "Matthew, I don't understand. What is she talking about?"

Matthew' s face went pale, then red with anger. He lunged forward and slapped the phone out of my hand. It clattered to the floor.

"You' re hysterical," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "Look at you, you' re bleeding all over the place. You' re scaring her."

He pulled Stella closer, shielding her as if I were the monster.

"Now you listen to me," he said, his voice a low growl. "Councilman Roberts has a rival, a guy named Peterson. He' s a problem for Stella. I need you to dig up some dirt on him. Something we can use."

I stared at him, my heart turning to ice.

He wasn' t even denying it. He was confirming it. The evidence I risked my life for was now a blackmail tool for his sister.

"You want me to help you blackmail someone for her?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"Do it," he commanded. "You owe me that much for making this scene and upsetting my sister."