A woman overcomes her vengeful ex’s dark schemes through ancestral protection and divine justice, transforming her trauma into triumph.
Copyright © Priya Florence Shah
The storm rolled in like a prowler, thunder grumbling low in the distance as Elena Rivera worked under the dim light of her workbench. The smell of molten silver filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of sage burning in the corner.
She twisted a delicate wire around a gemstone, her hands steady despite the growing sense of unease gnawing at the edges of her mind.
It had started with small things: the off-kilter hum of her refrigerator, apps mysteriously opening on her phone, and an unsettling feeling of being watched. She shook the thoughts away, focusing on her craft.
But when the storm knocked out the lights, plunging her home into darkness, she froze. A soft chime broke the silence. Her phone screen flickered to life on its own.
“You think you can win this?”
The text glowed stark against the black screen. She didn’t need to see the number to know who it was. Marcus.
***
They had seemed perfect once. Marcus was the kind of man who could light up a room, his easy laughter and quick wit disarming anyone he met. He’d swept Elena off her feet with promises of forever, his crooked smile like a secret only she was privy to.
But perfection is a mask, and Marcus wore his like armor. Underneath was something hollow, a man whose need to be admired was eclipsed only by his bitterness when the admiration faded.
Elena had flaws of her own. She believed in people — too much. She believed they could change, that love could soften sharp edges. It was her grandmother, Sophia, who warned her.
“Your heart is too soft, mija. Not everyone deserves it,” Sophia had said, stirring a pot of steaming arroz con leche, the cinnamon wafting through her tiny kitchen.
Elena didn’t listen. Not until she found that insurance policy.
***
***
“You don’t even hide it well,” she had said, slamming the papers onto the table. “A $500,000 policy? Signed in my name? You think I wouldn’t notice?”
Marcus leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his lips curling into a smirk. “You’re overreacting, babe.”
She had thrown him out that night. He didn’t argue, just walked out the door with a suitcase, pausing only to say, “You’ll regret this.”
She didn’t think much of the warning then. But now, sitting in the dark with her phone buzzing with Marcus’s threats, she realized how wrong she’d been.
***
The hidden cameras were the first discovery. Small, insidious things, tucked into places she never would have thought to look — behind a clock, embedded in a lamp. The tech guy she hired whistled low as he handed her the device.
“Your ex is a real piece of work,” he said, shaking his head.
Elena’s stomach churned. The violation was physical, her skin crawling as though unseen hands were on her.
But Marcus wasn’t content with voyeurism. Anonymous threats flooded her email. Videos of her, taken from those hidden cameras, surfaced on a shadowy corner of the internet. And then came the whispers of something darker.
***
“You need protection,” Sophia said firmly, setting a bundle of sage alight. The smoke curled through the room, filling it with its sharp, cleansing scent. “He’s messing with bad spirits, Elena. He’s calling things he doesn’t understand.”
Marcus and his new girlfriend, Kara, had begun dabbling in rituals. They didn’t believe in them — not really. But desperation makes fools of men, and Marcus’s desperation was boundless.
Kara, with her fake nails and Instagram spirituality, chanted spells with the enthusiasm of a child playing dress-up, while Marcus muttered about cashing in on Elena’s insurance.
Their plans unraveled quickly.
First, Marcus fell ill. Feverish and weak, he blamed stress. Then Kara woke one morning covered in angry, burning welts. Still, they pressed on, calling in a petty criminal named Tony to orchestrate a burglary.
***
***
Elena’s gallery was packed the night Marcus’s plan went into motion. The room buzzed with life: the clink of glasses, the hum of conversation, and the soft strains of a live guitarist in the corner. But even as she smiled and nodded at admirers of her work, a weight pressed against her chest.
Back at her house, Marcus, Kara, and Tony crept through the dark. The air was thick, unnaturally still, and cold enough to make their breath fog. Tony stopped, shivering.
“You feel that?” he whispered.
“Shut up,” Marcus snapped, his flashlight beam jerking erratically.
They made it to the living room before the lights exploded in a blinding flash. Doors slammed shut, one after the other, echoing like gunshots. Kara screamed, spinning wildly as shadows seemed to move just beyond the edges of the flickering light.
“What the hell is this?” Marcus yelled, his voice cracking.
Tony bolted for the door but collapsed mid-step, clutching his chest. “You… can’t… mess… with her,” he wheezed before falling still.
The sound of sirens filled the air, growing louder until red and blue lights painted the room. Sophia had foreseen the break-in and tipped off the police.
As officers swarmed the house, they found Marcus and Kara huddled in the corner, their faces pale, their breaths ragged.
***
The evidence was damning: burglary tools, recordings of their rituals, and the cache of videos Marcus had sold online. Kara cracked first, spilling every sordid detail in exchange for leniency. But no deal could protect her from what followed.
Kara developed an inexplicable illness, her body wasting away despite countless tests and treatments. Marcus fared no better, his health deteriorating rapidly behind bars.
The others involved in their schemes faced similar fates — accidents, illnesses, and an uncanny string of misfortunes.
***
***
Elena stood in her gallery, staring at the centerpiece of her collection: a talisman of obsidian and amethyst, glowing faintly under the spotlight. A group of admirers lingered nearby, murmuring about its haunting beauty.
When asked about her inspiration, she smiled softly. “Sometimes, the universe has a way of taking care of things.” In the quiet of her mind, she felt her grandmother’s presence and the strength of the ancestors who had protected her.
Outside, the storm had passed, leaving the air fresh and cool. And for the first time in months, Elena breathed freely.
***
