Death Row to Vengeance: I’m Back

1
The day I was sentenced to death for a crime I didnt commit, my fiance Elena married my stepbrother. My mother coughed up blood and died upon hearing the news, while my fathers mistress celebrated at the head table.
During five years in prison, I endured beatings and pain, surviving only on thoughts of revenge. Then, suppressed evidence emerged, proving my innocence.
I walked out, buried the name Caleb Rivera, and plunged into the violent underworld of the borderlands. The man who rose from the corpses was Vince Vancea feared name in the global arms trade.
Two years later, I returned to New York as a munitions tycoon to visit my mothers grave. As my jet landed, the citys elite gathered to welcome Mr. Vance.
On my way out, I saw Elena standing pale at the edge of the crowd. Caleb? she whispered.
She rushed over, grabbing my arms. Youre alive! Why didnt you come for me?
I calmly removed her fingers from my sleeve. Ms. Elena, have some dignity.
Taking a silk handkerchief, I wiped where shed touched me, deliberately showing the platinum band on my ring finger. My wife is a germaphobe.

Elenas gaze locked onto the ring. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Wife? Caleb, don't be delusional. Look at you."
The crowd began to whisper, their looks of admiration turning to suspicion.
"Isn't that the Rivera convict? The one who was on death row?"
"Where is security? Get him out of here! If he upsets Mr. Vance, were all finished!"
The man who had just been handing me his business card sneered, shoving me. "Get lost! A convict has no business at a gathering like this!"
In the commotion, the handkerchief my wife had embroidered for me fell to the marble floor.
I reached down to retrieve it, but a stiletto heel slammed down on the fabric.
Elena looked down at me, her eyes wet but hard.
"Seven years... Caleb, if you were alive, why didn't you come see me?"
I stared at the white silk, now stained with the dirt from her shoe. My eyes turned cold.
"See you? See you marry my stepbrother? See you become my sister-in-law?"
Elena flinched. "No! I had no choice back then! You don't understand!"
I let out a low, humorless laugh.
I would never forget.
Seven years ago, in that courtroom. When the judge read the death sentence, my father and Elena didn't cry. They exhaled. They smiled. That relief was a dull knife sawing at my heart.
Elena scanned my appearance, then looked behind me at the empty exit.
"Why did you come out of the VIP gate? Do you know the arms dealer, Mr. Vance?"
I smirked and shook my head. After all, how can one know oneself?
Elena let out a breath, her posture relaxing.
"Caleb, Im begging you. Dont cause a scene today. We have bet everything on making a connection with this Mr. Vance."
Her eyes drifted to my phone, which lit up with a notification. The lock screen showed me holding my wife, with our two-year-old daughter in my arms.
Elena froze, then let out a scoff.
"God, you haven't changed. Still so childish. Did you Photoshop that just to make me jealous?"
Her arrogance reminded me of our youth. I once flew halfway across the world just because she said she missed me, just to sing her to sleep. I thought devotion would be returned with devotion. I was an idiot.
Seeing my silence, she pitied me. "Give it up. Even if you play pretend, I won't feel anything for you anymore."
I ignored her narcissism. I pointed to her foot.
"Give me the handkerchief."
She looked confused that I cared about a piece of cloth. She lifted her foot, picked it up with two fingers as if it were toxic waste, and sneered.
"It's just a dirty rag. Is this all you're worth now?"
She tossed it into a nearby trash can.
Without hesitation, I reached into the bin. Amidst the gasps of the crowd, I retrieved it, carefully dusting off the ash and grime.
Elenas disdain overflowed. "No wonder you came out that exit. Youre working as a janitor now? Caleb, if youre willing to beg, I can ask your brother to give you a job. At least... you won't have to be a bottom-feeder."
I folded the cloth reverently and placed it back in my inner pocket.
"No need. I didn't come back to beg for a job."
I looked her dead in the eye.
"I came back to balance the ledger."
"You? With what power?" she snapped.
I didn't answer. I turned and walked away.
My phone rang. The moment I saw the caller ID, the ice in my veins melted.
"Daddy!"
My daughter Mia's voice was a balm to my soul. "Grandpa said we can come see you and Grandma in two days! Do you miss us?"
"Every second of every day, sweetheart."
My wife took the phone. Her voice was calm, dangerous, and loving all at once.
"Vince, everything is arranged. My father says when we land, we need to pay our proper respects to your mother."
Two years ago, I was a nobody fighting in illegal death matches in the jungle, half-dead. Isabella found me. I didn't know then that the fragile-looking woman was the only heir to a munitions empire.
When I healed, she asked if I dared to trade my life for a future.
I had one condition. "I want revenge."
She smiled. "Done."
I hung up and drove straight to the cemetery.
For seven years, I had dreamed of kneeling before my mother.
But when I arrived at the plot number, there was nothing but an empty pit.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I stormed into the management office. "Where is Sarah Rivera's grave?!"
The clerk checked the logs and gave me a weird look. "Who are you to her? That grave was moved three years ago... to the pet sector."
My mind went blank. I stumbled to the pet cemetery adjacent to the grounds.
There, next to a lavish tombstone for a dog, was my mothers headstone, tossed carelessly in the corner, overgrown with weeds.
A primal rage, hot and blinding, consumed me.
I got in my car and drove to the Rivera estate.
I kicked open the doors. My stepmother, Vivian, was wearing a birthday crown, surrounded by guests singing to her.
They were celebrating her birthday on the anniversary of my mother's death.
"Where is my mother?!" I roared.
Vivian turned pale, then squeezed out crocodile tears as she looked at my father. "I was just afraid Sarah would be lonely down there. When our dog, Buster, died, I thought they could keep each other company..."
"You buried my mother with a dog?!"
My stepbrother, Liam, stepped forward, swirling his wine glass. "Bro, relax. Your mom was a bitch, Buster was a dog. Its a match made in heaven, isn't it?"
Laughter rippled through the room.
My fists clenched so hard my knuckles turned white. "You forget that without my mother's money, this family would be on the streets! You're living on her blood!"
"Ungrateful bastard!" My father, Richard, smashed his glass. "Seven years gone and you come back to curse us? Drag him out! I have no son!"
Bodyguards rushed me. I threw them off like ragdolls.
"Anyone who hurt her will pay in blood!" I screamed.
Outside, a thunderstorm broke. Rain hammered the earth.
Vivian ran out with an umbrella. "Caleb, it's pouring. Take this."
As she leaned in, ostensibly to give me the umbrella, she whispered in my ear.
"You don't know how she really died, do you?"
I froze.
Vivian smirked, her red lips curling like a demon's. "She was on her knees begging me to save you. But I told her... I told her you were sentenced to death. She vomited blood right onto my shoes. It was... disgusting."
Boom.
Something snapped in my brain. The grief was a tsunami.
I grabbed Vivian by the throat.
I squeezed. Her eyes bulged. She clawed at my hands, feet kicking the air.
"Let... go..."
"He's crazy! Save Mrs. Rivera!"
The guests panicked. Richard screamed, "Kill him! Take the animal down before he kills her!"
But I wasn't the weak Caleb anymore. I was Vince, forged in war zones. I threw Vivian aside and dismantled the first wave of bodyguards.
"Break his legs!" Richard shrieked.
More men poured in. I was overwhelmed.
Suddenly, a figure burst through the rain.
"Caleb! No!"
Elena wrapped her arms around me from behind.
In the past, whenever my bipolar disorder flared, she would hold me like this. She was my anchor. My savior.
Even now, in this moment of life and death, a pathetic part of me wondered: Is she trying to save me?
I hesitated.
"Don't be afraid," she whispered against my ear. "It'll be over soon."
A sharp pain pricked my neck.
A syringe. Muscle relaxant. High dose.
My strength evaporated instantly. I collapsed into the mud.
"Hold him down!"
The guards pinned my limbs. One of them stomped on my shin.
Snap.
The agony was blinding, but I couldn't scream. My muscles wouldn't obey.
They grabbed my hair and slammed my head into the pavement, forcing me to kowtow to a gasping Vivian.
Thud. Thud.
Blood and rain blinded me.
Richard looked at me with pure disgust. "Mr. Vance is coming tonight. We can't have this convict's blood on the floor. Bad luck."
"Throw him in the trash," he ordered. "Since he misses his mom so much, send him to her."
They dragged me like a sack of meat and tossed me into the mud next to the dog grave.
The rain was freezing. Darkness began to take me.
Then, footsteps. Not the chaotic stomping of the guards. The disciplined, rhythmic march of an army.
Dozens of polished black shoes surrounded me. A pair of familiar heels stopped by my face.
"Vince. We're here to take you home."
My wife's voice.
Before I blacked out, I rasped, "Before home... revenge."
She pulled my muddy, broken body into her pristine coat.
"Done. I'll burn this place to the ground for you."
Night fell.
The Rivera Gala was in full swing. The entire upper crust of New York was there, waiting for the legendary head of the Vance family.
Under the flashing lights, an old man walked in, flanked by a wall of security. Arthur Vance.
Richard and Vivian practically sprinted to greet him, bows deep and servile.
"Mr. Vance! An honor! A true honor!"
"We are humbled by your presence!"
Richard bent so low his nose nearly touched his knees. Elena and Liam stood by, smiles plastered on their faces.
Arthur Vance sat stone-faced. He didn't take the wine offered to him. He didn't even look at them.
The glass hovered in the air. The room grew awkward.
Finally, Arthur cleared his throat. The room went silent.
"I am here to introduce someone."
He gestured to the grand doors.
The doors swung open.
I rolled in, sitting in a wheelchair pushed by my beautiful wife. My daughter sat on my lap, her arms around my neck.
"Daddy," she chirped.
The word echoed in the silent hall.
"Caleb... Rivera?!" Elena gasped, dropping her glass.
Cameras flashed like lightning.
Vivian was the first to recover. She pointed a shaking finger at Isabella. "You trash! Where did you hire these actors? Did you rent the kid too?"
Liam laughed nervously. "What kind of bastard claims a convict as a father? Brother, have you no shame?"
Richard was trembling with rage. He glanced at the silent Arthur Vance, then roared at me.
"Who let this cripple in?! Security! Throw him out!"
He turned to Arthur, bowing frantically. "Mr. Vance, please forgive me! This is my estranged, good-for-nothing son! An escaped convict! I disowned him years ago! We will remove this filth immediately!"
Guards moved toward my wheelchair.
Arthur Vance, who had been a statue of ice, suddenly slammed his cane onto the floor.
BANG.
"Who dares touch my son-in-law?!"
In the rafters, red laser dots appeared on the foreheads of Richard, Vivian, Liam, and every guard who had taken a step.
Silence. Absolute, terrifying silence.
My father-in-law stood up, ignoring the pale Rivera family, and walked to my side. He placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Tonight, I have an announcement."
He looked at the crowd.
"From this moment on, the entire Vance empire belongs to my son-in-law, Vince Vance. Formerly known as Caleb Rivera."
Elena stumbled back, her knees giving out.

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