He Locked Me In A Closet, So I Destroyed His Empire Chapter 01

He Locked Me In A Closet, So I Destroyed His Empire Chapter 01

Weston arranged the proposal at our old prep school.

His best friend, Chloe, had gone out of her way to find an old school uniform for me to change into.

But the moment we stepped into the auditorium, she shoved me into a janitor’s closet.

The dark, confined space was choked with dust that made each breath a struggle.

My chest tightened as panic set in.

I instinctively reached into my bag for my inhaler, only to realize Chloe had taken it when I was changing clothes.

I coughed violently, my lungs burning as I pounded on the heavy door until my fists went numb.

Through the rusted metal, Chloe’s mocking laughter drifted in.

“Weren’t you always the queen of high school bullying, Summer? How does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine?”

My head spun, dizzy from the lack of oxygen, a sudden sense of dread washing over me.

The next second, Weston’s calm voice echoed from outside the door:

“Get your revenge before you let her out, Chloe. It’s about time someone taught her a lesson for what she did to you in school.”

“The Garrison family won’t have a bully as a daughter-in-law.”

With the last of my strength, I slammed my thumb down on the emergency SOS button on the side of my smartwatch.

Five minutes later, the unmistakable roar of rotor blades shook the building as a private helicopter touched down on the football field.

The moment the security team kicked the door open and pulled me out, I looked at the lead agent and choked out a single cold command.

“Chloe Quinn is fabricating charges and holding me against my will. Have her taken to the police, and make sure the media gets the full story.”

“Pull all funding from the Garrison Group immediately. Terminate every single contract. I want their entire empire erased within a month.”

******

Inside that cramped, pitch-black closet, the stench of mildew, rotting mops, and decades of dust had swirled into a toxic cloud.

Every desperate breath tore through my throat and forced the filth deep into my lungs.

I bent double, coughing so hard it felt like my ribs would crack.

That was when a faint, cold glow caught my eye, revealing a hidden electronic monitor mounted right behind me.

It was broadcasting a live stream.

And the camera was trained directly on me.

In the top right corner of the screen, the viewer count read eight thousand and was climbing by the second.

A relentless wave of comments flooded the screen.

[I heard she used to bully the host back in the day. Good for the host for finally getting revenge!]

[Bullies deserve to rot. Go to hell.]

[Justice is never late. Beautifully done, girl!]

Looking at the digital curses scrolling past, a violent tremor racked my entire body.

Then, a sharp laugh cut through the door.

“Well, Miss Sterling, how do you like the little surprise I tailor-made just for you?”

Chloe paused, seemingly savoring the sound of my ragged wheezing, before speaking again in a slow, agonizing drawl.

“Summer, this is only the opening act.”

Chloe brought a microphone to her lips, her voice booming through the auditorium’s loudspeaker system and echoing perfectly into the live stream.

“To all our old classmates and everyone watching online, today’s special event is about holding someone accountable. We’re getting justice for everyone who was terrorized by the great Miss Sterling back in high school—including myself.”

The chat went completely feral.

[An eye for an eye! Punish the bully!]

[The host is so brave. How many people actually get to take down their high school tormentor years later? This is so satisfying.]

[It’s because of people like her standing up that others find the courage to fight for their rights.]

My hand remained pressed against the metal door, searching for leverage.

Sharp metal sliced deep into my palm, leaving dark, crimson smears across the rusted surface.

The harsh white glare of the screen illuminated the bloodstains.

On the live feed, I looked utterly pathetic, shivering in an old school uniform soaked through with filthy water.

Chloe’s voice poured through the speakers again.

“Summer, weren’t you dying for Weston to propose to you today? I’ll give you thirty minutes. If you can’t find a way out and miss your own proposal, don’t blame me.”

The chat exploded again.

[A proposal? A monster like her doesn’t deserve happiness. Whoever marries her is cursed!]

[Chloe is way too sweet. If it were me, I’d leave her to rot in there.]

I clenched my fists, letting the agonizing sting in my palm anchor my drifting consciousness.

Forcing my voice to remain steady, I shouted toward the gap in the door, “Chloe, you know damn well I have severe asthma. Intentionally locking me in here and withholding my inhaler is straight-up attempted murder.”

An exaggerated, mocking laugh forced its way through the door cracks.

“Oh, please, Summer! Do you honestly think Weston is going to fall for that pathetic act? I’ve already told him the truth. Your little asthma condition is a total fraud. You’ve been faking it since high school, yet I’ve never seen you have a single attack.”

“Stop trying to manipulate Weston. He’s done buying your lies.”

Weston was standing right outside that door, yet he didn’t utter a single word to defend me.

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

Between me and Chloe, he had chosen to believe her.

But he had conveniently forgotten how he had chased me across the globe after I moved out of the country.

During those two years of studying abroad, we had traveled together, exploring every corner of the world.

Back then, there was no Chloe, and there was no toxic inner circle of friends.

It had felt like it was just the two of us against the world.

We shared the same passions and could talk for hours without ever running out of things to say.

He had even taught himself basic medical care just to look after my fragile health.

He forgot that the only reason I hadn’t suffered a major attack during those years was because he had taken such meticulous care of me.

Yet now, he couldn’t even bring himself to say a word on my behalf.

On screen, the vicious comments continued to scroll by in a dense fog, completely obscuring my face.

I slowly slid down the cold metal door, collapsing onto the floor.

My eyes locked onto the tiny, blinking lens of the hidden camera in the corner.

I knew Weston was watching the feed.

“Weston, let me out,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “Please—I can’t breathe.”

I foolishly thought that showing vulnerability would finally pierce through his cold facade.

But a second later, a highly highlighted, paid super chat flashed directly across the center of the screen.

[Stop lying. There’s nothing wrong with you.]

[It’s time someone cured your pathological lying.]