My Toxic Roommate's Dirty Secret: Trashing the Fake Heiress

The sensation of falling into a bottomless abyss suddenly stopped.

I opened my eyes, gasping for air.

In my arms was a warm, fluffy ball of fur.

Nugget, my Golden Retriever, was shivering, burying his wet nose into my palm.

I was alive. I really came back.

The bone-shattering pain of being pushed off the rooftop in my past life still felt incredibly real.

"Chloe Miller! Are you deaf?!"

My roommate, Ashley Vance, pinched her nose, taking a dramatic step back.

Her perfectly manicured red nails pointed at Nugget as she stomped her feet in sheer disgust.

"That smelly mutt is shedding everywhere! Its literally ruining my Clean Girl Aesthetic!"

"Throw him out right now! Dont you dare contaminate my luxury minimalist space!"

She screamed about high-end luxury and minimalism, yet the "designer" slippers on her feet were already peeling at the edges.

In my past life, to keep the peace, I cried and sent Nugget to the countryside that very night.

Nugget ended up eating poisoned rat bait and died a painful death.

And my compliance only made her abuse worse.

In the end, just to monopolize the cheap rental lease of this downtown apartment, she pushed me off the rooftop.

New hatred and old grudges clashed in my chest, and my anger exploded.

Minimalist? Dust-free?

Afraid of dirt, huh?

I held Nugget on my lap and pinched a large handful of loose golden fur from his back.

Ashley froze, not realizing what I was doing.

In one swift motion, I lunged forward and stuffed the massive clump of dog hair right onto her perfectly made-up face.

"Ahhhh!"

Ashleys makeup was instantly ruined by the wet dog hair.

She doubled over, gagging on the spot.

"Chloe, are you insane?! How dare you throw that toxic trash at me!"

She grabbed a bottle of expensive, imported disinfectant spray.

Instead of backing down, I grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard.

Ashley cried out in pain and dropped the bottle. It landed right in my hand.

I held down the nozzle and sprayed it directly into her face and mouth.

"You spend every weekend drinking cheap booze with random guys at clubs. Your mouth is crawling with bacteria."

"Every time you open it, you contaminate my air!"

"Today, Im giving you a deep disinfection!"

Ashley covered her face, screaming, "You bitch! Tomorrow Im throwing all your shit onto the curb!"

Throw my things out?

I sneered. I turned around and kicked open her bedroom doorthe one she never allowed anyone to enter.

Inside, the floor was littered with dirty underwear.

The trash can was overflowing with moldy takeout boxes.

*This* was the "minimalist luxury oasis" she bragged about on Snapchat?

I didnt waste any words. I walked straight to her bed.

I grabbed her silk duvetthe one she took photos of every day to flex on Instagramand yanked it off.

"My duvet! Dont touch my custom silk!" Ashley crawled in, trying to stop me.

I dragged the duvet into the bathroom and stuffed it into the washing machine.

Then, I opened the cabinet and grabbed a full, undiluted bottle of Clorox bleach.

Right in front of her, I unscrewed the cap and poured the entire bottle onto her precious silk duvet.

I slammed the lid and started the heavy-duty spin cycle.

"No! My silk duvet is ruined!"

I didnt stop.

"Dont you love deep disinfection? Pure bleach is the best way to kill bacteria."

She collapsed onto the floor, crying her eyes out.

I walked over, grabbed her by the collar of her silk pajamas, and hauled her up.

I stared into her eyes, speaking slowly and clearly.

"Try me again, and Ill treat you like toxic waste and throw you in the dumpster. Got it?"

Ashley looked into my eyes, shivered in pure terror, and nodded frantically.

The next day, my company had a massive project launch, and I had to work late into the night.

The moment I stepped out of the elevator, I knew something was wrong.

There was a brand-new digital keypad lock installed on the bathroom door.

Taped to the door was a giant piece of paper with bold letters: CHLOES EXCLUSION BAN

Chloe is strictly banned from showering after 10 PM!

Your low-class, working-class odor will contaminate my high-end skincare products.

Violators will be fined $500!

Looking at the sign, I laughed out of pure anger.

It was exactly like my past life.

Ashley always found new ways to torture me.

Back then, I swallowed my pride, too afraid to fight back.

I had to use a bucket to fetch cold water from the kitchen sink to wash myself in the dead of winter.

I caught a fever of 104 degrees the next day.

Yet, she complained that my coughing ruined her beauty sleep and forced me to sleep in my car.

This life, I wouldnt let her walk over me for even a second.

Shes a double-standard clean freak?

Fine. Ill beat her at her own game.

I opened Amazon for same-day delivery.

I spent a fortune ordering a giant jug of industrial-strength Clorox bleach.

I also bought a high-pressure power washer, a professional respirator, and an industrial UV sanitizing light.

Once the orders were placed, I sat on the couch and waited.

At 3 AM, the delivery driver dropped the packages at my door.

I hooked the power washer hose to the kitchen sink.

I poured the bleach straight into the soap tank.

Everything was ready.

At 7 AM the next morning, the sound of slippers echoed from Ashleys room.

Every day at this time, she would spend two hours in the bathroom for her so-called "it-girl morning routine."

The doorknob turned.

Ashley walked out, yawning, wearing the silk pajamas that I had bleached to a faded grey.

The second she took a step out of her room, I pulled the trigger on the power washer.

The high-pressure blast of bleached water slammed directly into her chest.

Before she could even react, the force knocked her flat on her back.

"Ah! What the hell are you doing?!"

Through my respirator, my voice sounded cold and robotic.

"Your body is crawling with toxic parasites."

"If you want to step into my living room, you must go through a full-body de-contamination blast first."

Ashley shook with rage.

"You psychopath! Im calling the police!"

Without lowering the power washer, I reached into a bag next to me and grabbed a handful of dirty, used wet wipes.

I scattered them across the floor like confetti, completely blocking her path to the bathroom.

Ashley tried to step forward, but shrank back when she saw the oily, dirty wipes.

"Ew! Get them away! Get this trash away from me!"

She was used to using moral high grounds and her fake rich persona to bully me.

Faced with my absolute madness, she was completely lost.

"If you don't want to step on this trash, then cooperate," I said, aiming the nozzle at her face.

"What's the bathroom passcode?"

Ashley cowered, gritting her teeth to hold out.

"Im not telling you! Youre not ruining my bathroom!"

I didn't waste another second and pulled the trigger again.

The high-pressure stream shot straight into her mouth.

"Ill tell you! Ill tell you! Its 0721!" she choked and coughed, finally screaming the code in humiliation.

I turned off the power washer and took off my mask.

Holding Nuggets leash, I strolled past her.

"If you change the code, Ill flood your room with the power washer."

Right in front of her, I punched in the code and walked into the bathroom.

On Sunday morning, a loud burst of laughter came from the living room.

Ashley had brought over her rich boyfriend, Tyler Reynolds.

Tyler was wearing hyped streetwear, but his sneakers were covered in thick, black mud.

He walked right in, leaving muddy footprints all over Ashleys prized white wool rug.

Ashley, who usually demanded I disinfect the toilet three times after using it, acted like a spineless puppy.

She completely ignored the mud.

Instead, she giggled, poured him drinks, and practically glued herself to his side.

"Babe, you have to help me. My psycho roommate is bullying me every single day."

Tyler blew a puff of vape smoke, looking contemptuously at my closed bedroom door.

"Don't worry about it. I'll handle it."

Half an hour later, the landlord banged on my door, furious.

Tyler immediately whipped out a thick stack of cash, throwing down double the security deposit to buy off the greedy landlord.

The landlord's face changed instantly. He told me I had three days to pack my bags and get out.

But they weren't done.

On Monday morning, the moment I arrived at the office, my manager called me into his office and screamed at me.

He claimed my performance was terrible and that clients were complaining.

Then, he stripped me of the core project I had been working on for six months and handed it to someone else.

Specifically, to the new hire who had just been fast-tracked into the company todayAshley Vance.

Ashley, dressed in a designer pantsuit and high heels, strutted out.

She was already trying to establish her "minimalist, clean-girl influencer" persona in the office.

On her first day, she demanded that everyone keep a three-foot distance from her.

During lunch, she walked over to my desk.

She pinched her nose, using a folder to fan the air away from me.

"Chloe, your low-class germs are literally drifting onto my custom blazer."

She picked up my stainless-steel mug with two fingers, looking disgusted.

"Your mug is contaminating my files. I'll buy you a new one out of my own pocket, okay?"

The entire office fell silent. Everyone looked at me with pity.

I stood up calmly.

I opened my drawer and pulled out a portable digital microscope.

I walked right up to her and pressed the lens against her precious custom blazer.

The microscope was connected to my phone screen. I turned the brightness to the maximum.

"Oh my god!"

I suddenly gasped, raising my voice so the entire office could hear.

"Ashley, why is your blazer covered in dead skin cells and... pubic lice?!"

The entire office gasped.

Ashleys face drained of color.

"What lies! This was just dry-cleaned!"

I put on a pair of medical rubber gloves.

Taking a pair of tweezers, I reached into her lapel with precision.

I pulled out a coarse, curly, yellowish hair that definitely wasn't hers.

I held the hair high for everyone to see.

"Clean girl? Dry-cleaned custom blazer?"

"Which guys hair is this? You didn't even shake it off before wearing it to work?"

Before she could speak, I pulled a giant bottle of disinfectant spray from my bag.

"Everyone back up! Shes a walking biohazard!"

My coworkers scrambled away from her like she had the plague.

When I got home after work, it was pouring rain.

The moment I got to the building, I saw all my bags thrown into the muddy driveway.

The landlord had already changed the locks.

And my golden retriever, Nugget, was chained to a wet bush by the security guard, shivering and whimpering in the freezing rain.

Job stolen, apartment gone, dog abused.

A triple threat of misery slammed down on me.

Tyler stood under the awning, his arm around Ashleys waist, looking down at me in the rain.

"Keep fighting us, loser. You're just a broke bitch at the end of the day."

I didn't say a word. I picked up Nugget and took him straight to the best 24-hour pet hospital to board him.

Then, dragging my soaked luggage, I checked into a cheap motel.

In Tyler and Ashley's eyes, I had completely lost.

But this was just a strategic retreat.

The trap was set.

On Friday night, the company held its grand annual gala at a five-star hotel.

Since the company was in the middle of a major IPO audit, everyone was there, along with several high-profile venture capitalists.

Ashley wore a plunging designer gown, arm-in-arm with Tyler as they made their grand entrance.

"The air here is so stuffy. It's nothing like the crisp air in the Swiss Alps," she complained loudly.

Tyler sat at the VIP table, laughing and drinking with the CEO.

Halfway through the night, Tyler put down his glass.

He announced loudly that he would invest $5 million into the company on one condition:

The CEO had to fire a "unprofessional, toxic" employee immediatelyme.

To secure the investment, the CEO immediately called security to throw me out.

"Chloe Miller, pack your things and get out! Our company doesn't need people like you!"

Ashley sat next to Tyler, smiling victoriously.

Just as the security guards stepped up to grab me, I kicked over the massive champagne tower next to me.

At the same time, I plugged an encrypted USB drive into the control room computer.

With one click, the massive high-definition LED screen in the ballroom lit up.

The first gift was for Tyler.

The screen displayed clear bank statements and contract screenshots.

It showed the rental agreement for the luxury car Tyler drove tonight.

It showed his forged asset documents used to get high-interest loans from loan sharks.

It even showed text messages of him hiring actors to play his wealthy parents.

The crowd gasped. The CEO's smile froze.

"Turn it off! Turn it off now! This is fake!" Tyler screamed.

I ignored him and opened the second filea special gift for Ashley.

It was a compilation video of Ashley's "clean, minimalist" life, filmed by a private investigator.

The background was a disgusting, cheap room in a rundown trailer park.

In the video, the glamorous Ashley was squatting on the floor.

She was using a dirty plastic bucketthe same one she used to wash her underwearto cook cheap instant ramen.

Then, the scene cut to her walking down the street.

She reached into a public trash can, pulled out a discarded, broken lipstick, wiped it with a tissue, and applied it to her lips.

This video was the result of a month-long surveillance I paid for.

Looking at the filthy reality on the screen, and then thinking of her usual "clean freak" behavior, the executives and coworkers were horrified.

Several female coworkers actually gagged and ran to the bathroom.

I picked up the microphone, my voice echoing through the speakers.

"Your entire 'minimalist luxury' lifestyle comes from trash cans."

"You are a walking petri dish of bacteria."

Ashley covered her head, screaming as she tried to smash the screen.

"It's fake! All of it! Chloe is just jealous of me!"

The CEO was furious. The $5 million investment was a scam, and now his company's reputation was ruined.

He slammed the table. "Security! Call the police! Investigate these two frauds!"

Tyler and Ashley were pinned to the red carpet by security guards like wet dogs.

I watched them struggle, thinking my revenge was complete. I turned to leave.

But suddenly, Ashley broke free from a guard.

She pulled out a document stamped with a official hospital seal, waving it in the air.

"Officer! Help!" she shrieked at the arriving police.

"This is her psychiatric evaluation! She is a diagnosed psychopath!"

"She has homicidal delusions! She poisoned the drinks tonight to kill us all!"