Brian loved the thrill of control.
He dated boldly, lied easily, and laughed at consequences. When he met Anna, quiet and attentive, he thought she was safe. When Jenna entered his life—sharp-tongued and magnetic—he decided to enjoy both. Two best friends, unaware of each other. Or so he believed.
What Brian never knew was that Anna and Jenna had known him for years.
Before the charm, before the money, before the smiles.
Their parents had trusted Brian with investments. He promised growth, stability, security. Months later, accounts were empty. Anna’s parents declared bankruptcy. Jenna’s father collapsed when the bank seized their home. Brian walked away untouched, richer than ever.
The girls learned early that justice rarely arrived on time.
So they made their own.
They studied Brian’s habits, his weaknesses, his arrogance. They let him believe he was clever—juggling lies, playing hearts like cards. Anna played gentle devotion. Jenna played passion and chaos. Brian reveled in it, convinced he was winning.
The final act came on a quiet evening.
Brian cooked dinner for Anna in his apartment. Candlelight flickered. Wine warmed their hands. She laughed softly, exactly as he expected.
Then the front door opened.
Brian turned.
Jenna stood there, a gun steady in her hands.
“Sit down,” Jenna said.
Brian jumped up, fury flashing before fear. He turned to Anna. “She’s insane. Call the police. I’ll take her.”
He stepped toward Jenna.
“Don’t,” Jenna warned.
Brian looked back at Anna, lowering his voice. “I’ll rush her. You tell the cops she broke in.”
Anna didn’t move.
She folded her napkin, placed it on the table, and stood.
Slowly, she walked past Brian and stopped beside Jenna.
Her face was cold now. Empty.
“You’d better transfer the money,” Anna said.
Brian’s breath caught. “What are you talking about?”
“If you don’t,” Anna continued calmly, “we call the police. I’ll say you assaulted me. Jenna will be the witness.”
Jenna raised the gun slightly.
“You’ll lose everything,” she added.
Brian’s confidence collapsed in real time. Hands shaking, he opened his laptop and logged into his bank account. Every dollar. Every hidden account. He transferred it all.
When it was done, Anna closed the laptop herself.
“Good,” she said. “Now forget us.”
By the time Brian looked up, the apartment was empty.
No women.
No money.
No control.
Only the bitter realization that the man who thought he was playing two women had been the final piece of their revenge
