A con man falls victim to a ruthless betrayal by his supposed soulmate and top boss, leading him to exact a dark revenge that seals his fate in prison.
Copyright © Priya Florence Shah
The night should have been perfect. Jack stood in a dimly lit hotel room, surrounded by the spoils of his supposed success.
He had the CEO’s phone in one hand, the stash of cash piled high around him, but something was wrong — very wrong. Jack glanced down at the bills, a chill seeping into his bones. They felt flimsy, the colors just slightly off.
“Counterfeit,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart.
The sirens wailed louder outside, growing closer. Jack’s mind raced. This was supposed to be the big one, the final heist before he and Sophie disappeared, leaving their crew and their lives of crime in the dust. But Sophie was nowhere to be found.
“Come on, Sophie, where the hell are you?” Jack muttered, his voice edged with panic.
The phone in his hand buzzed, and he answered without thinking, hoping it was her.
“You’re still there?” Sophie’s voice came through, cool and calm, laced with that mocking tone she used whenever she was in control.
“Sophie, what’s going on?” Jack’s voice cracked. “This money… it’s fake. The cops are here. Where are you?”
A soft laugh came from the other end, the kind that set Jack’s blood boiling. “Oh, Jack. You really thought this was the big one, didn’t you?”
He clenched the phone tighter, feeling the betrayal seep in. “You set me up, didn’t you?”
“Set you up?” she replied, feigning innocence. “I just gave you a chance to live up to your reputation. I thought you could handle it.”
“You think this is funny?” Jack’s voice grew louder, even as the sirens blared closer. “I trusted you, Sophie. We were supposed to be partners.”
“Partners?” Sophie scoffed. “Jack, you’re a useful fool. A means to an end. You always have been. You think you’re the only one who’s been grifting their whole life?”
Jack gritted his teeth, trying to hold onto the fury, to keep from letting the panic take over. “What about all that talk of disappearing together? Was that a lie, too?”
“Maybe I told you what you wanted to hear,” she said, her voice dripping with indifference. “Or maybe you’re just as naïve as every mark we’ve ever hustled. Either way, it doesn’t matter. This was never your win, Jack. It was always mine.”
A bitter laugh escaped him, but it sounded hollow, even to his own ears. “So, what now? You just leave me to rot here?”
“Funny you should ask,” she said with a smirk that Jack could practically hear over the line. “Looks like the cops are about to help you answer that question.”
And with that, the line went dead.
***
Sophie sat alone in a high-rise bar overlooking the city, swirling her drink with an elegant finger. She looked out over the sprawling lights with a self-satisfied smirk.
The bartender approached with a bottle of expensive whiskey, a drink far above what Jack had ever been able to afford, and she took it with a delicate sip, savoring the taste of her new life. She glanced down at her phone as it buzzed with a message.
Victor: It’s done?
She smirked, typing back with nonchalance.
Sophie: He’s taken care of.
Just as she was about to pocket her phone, a call came in from Ruth, one of the few remaining members of their crew who hadn’t yet found herself cut loose.
“Did you really do it, Soph?” Ruth’s voice was taut with both admiration and fear.
“What do you mean?” Sophie replied, her voice silky smooth.
“You know what I mean. Setting him up. Leaving him to take the fall while you run off with the real stash.”
Sophie laughed, low and amused. “Oh, Ruth, you didn’t think I was actually going to share, did you?”
There was a pause. Ruth sighed. “Guess I shouldn’t have. But I still don’t get it. Why leave him high and dry?”
“Because he was getting too sentimental,” Sophie said, taking a leisurely sip. “And you know I can’t stand sentiment. It makes people predictable. Weak.”
Ruth was silent, but Sophie could hear the subtle exhale of disappointment on the other end.
“So, what now?” Ruth asked finally. “What about the others?”
“There’s no ‘others,’ Ruth,” Sophie replied. “It’s me, and that’s all there ever was.”
***
In his holding cell, Jack sat with his head in his hands. The bitter taste of betrayal lingered, settling into his bones.
Memories flooded back — moments when Sophie’s hand had lingered just a little too long on his arm, the promises whispered under the cover of darkness. It had all been a lie.
The door clanged open, and a guard gestured to him. “Visitor for you.”
Jack’s heart pounded as he was led into the visiting room. He half-expected Sophie, hoping against hope that there had been some misunderstanding. But instead, a broad-shouldered man with slicked-back hair and a pinstripe suit sat waiting. Victor.
Victor’s smile was devoid of warmth. “Jack, Jack, Jack. You just couldn’t keep your eyes open, could you?”
“Victor,” Jack spat, anger simmering in his voice. “You were in on this too, weren’t you?”
Victor leaned back, exuding smug confidence. “In on it? Jack, I planned it. Every little detail.”
“Why?” Jack asked, fists clenched. “Why turn on your own people?”
Victor’s eyes glinted with cruelty. “Because people like you are replaceable. And people like Sophie… well, she has her uses. Besides, you and your merry band of thieves were drawing too much attention. This way, you take the heat, and I stay in the shadows.”
Jack’s hands trembled. “So what now? You keep her, and I get life?”
Victor leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Think of it as poetic justice, Jack. The con man conned. Now, be a good little scapegoat and take the fall. It’s the least you can do after all the mess you made.”
***
Jack’s release on bail came as a surprise. He wandered the city, a ghost in his own skin, thoughts consumed by one purpose — revenge. A final chance to settle the score.
The night he found Sophie was a warm one, the city humming with life. He waited in the shadows, watching her enter a luxurious penthouse. He followed her up, his heart pounding, rage simmering just beneath the surface. She didn’t hear him approach, her back turned as she poured herself a drink.
“Sophie,” he said, his voice low and taut.
She froze, glass in hand. When she turned, her face was a mask of mock surprise. “Jack. They let you out?”
He laughed bitterly. “Bail. Funny how easy it is to walk away when the cops think they’ve got their man.”
She smirked, raising her glass. “Well, then. To freedom.”
But Jack was done playing her games. He took a step forward, the fury and heartbreak boiling over. “You knew this was going to happen. You planned this with Victor.”
She tilted her head, a mocking smile tugging at her lips. “Of course, Jack. Did you really think there was any other ending?”
He lunged, the pain, betrayal, and years of survival instincts taking over. Sophie’s taunts faded as the room spun, their final, brutal dance ending as the city lights blinked out in her glassy eyes.
***
Jack’s final chapter was written in the cold steel of prison bars. He sat alone, the taste of betrayal sour in his mouth, replaying Victor’s last words.
He would be a cautionary tale, a fool’s warning carved in shadows and whispered in the halls of every con artist who thought they could outrun the life.
There was no honor among thieves, and Jack was left with the bitter truth that in the end, they’d all been played.
***
