Carole and Robert: An Act of Spite - written by Mongolita

The bell rang and Robert opened the door and saw Carol standing there and said: “Hello Robert, surprise? I know I should've phoned but ... Can I come in?
Firstly I wanted to see you and also  say  that I forgive you. I can't stop thinking about you, I still love you. She kept her head down as she looked up at him. 

“I'm so glad you came. Many times I wanted to pick up the phone and call you. But when you packed up my suitcases and asked me to leave, you made it perfectly clear you didn't ever want to see me again. You know Smith is a criminal, rapist and a brilliant manipulator but he's also your dad and you protect him, I understand that. I'm sorry I  deceived you at the beginning when we first met. Yes, my intention when I set up the camera in your computer was to track your dad's steps to gather evidence for all his crimes. Falling in love with you wasn't in the cards but I did. I couldn't tell you the truth and risk losing you. I'm sorry you found out the hard way. I hope your dad believed you that you weren't the one who installed the device to trap him. I know how suspicious he is of everyone."

Carole came close to him until she reached his lips, kissed him passionately, before he knew it they tumbled into bed. A few hours later, Carole suddenly opened her eyes remembering her plan, with Robert next to her. She made sure he was sleeping, she stepped out of bed, tiptoed towards her handbag and retrieved a flash drive. Turned back and walked where Robert’s desk was, opened his laptop, typed ‘CaroleJuly28’ - the day they met. Luckily he hadn't reset the password he shared with her when they were together. 

Carole was in the system, now she must copy all the conversations and videos Robert had managed to record about her dad's dealings before he woke up. She copied all that she needed, proceeded to delete everything on Robert's laptop and left, quietly closing the door behind her.

When Robert woke up, he stretched out his arm hoping to find Carole but there was an empty place. He reached out for his glasses on the bedside table calling out for her but there was no response. He saw the laptop open, and he knew what Carole had done. He tried to stay composed, switched  the laptop on, keyed in the password. There were no folders, no documents, no videos , nada, exactly what he feared. 
"Carole what have you done!!”

At that moment his mobile rang and it was Carole. “How does it feel to be betrayed? I wanted you to know this was an act of spite planned by me for what you've done. And let me tell you something, my dad didn't have anything to do with it nor did he manipulate me to do what I've done. Bye Robert.”  Not giving Robert a chance to say anything Carole hang up. 









Comments

  1. Tom FynesSeptember 30, 2025 at 8:01 PM

    Change that password is the lesson learned. A sneaky story from Mongolita;-)

    ReplyDelete
  2. AnonymousOctober 1, 2025 at 8:37 AM

    I enjoyed your story about deceit and retribution
    Even intelligent people don,t always change their passwords

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Written Word Group Almanzora

Image
The Written Word Group Based at the Meson Hostal In Arboleas, Almeria, Spain  Email: thewrittenwordgroup.albox@gmail.com All the graphics on this blog have been created using hotpot.ai THE WRITTEN WORD GROUP Short stories • Poems • Scripts • A Novel • Articles • Essays • Diaries The ETHOS The ethos of The Written Word Group is that of offering a supportive outlet to everyone who enjoys writing. The RULES As to rules... There are none... other than, The Written Word Group respectfully asks that all literary endeavors and contributions be treated with equal sensitivity and supportive respect. Works will inevitably, by their nature, vary in both content and style and accordingly will not always be to everyone's taste, but... The Written Word Group asks that members be aware that each person contributing is exposing their very personal creative thoughts, and work, to public review. So please, be sensitive and supportive of both the works and the writers, who should be appreciated and c...
Read more

The Rambla - A walk on the wild side - a short story written by M. E. Heed

I don't know whether it is my body language or when I put my walking-trainers on that Alfie starts running up and down the hallway, sensing we are going for a walk. I open the door for him to go out in the garden but he stays right there next to me, looking at me expectedly, I say: “Good morning Alfie” and he looks at me with that angelic look cocking his head to one side, wagging his bushy tail and lifting his ears gracefully as if to say: “come on let's go for a walk this morning”, but I don't say anything. Then I do the preparations, because with me it's all about following a procedure before we set off for a walk in the Rambla, maybe that's a give away! I put my Fitbit on my wrist, my phone in my pocket, sunglasses on, the walking stick on my right hand side and now we are all set to go. As soon as I reach for his harness and the lead he’s off, giving his short wolf cries of excitement as much as to say come on, let's go! I open the garden gate, and he ...
Read more

The Chess Game by Mongolita

Image
Do you play chess? Do you remember when you learned to play? I do.  I was about fifteen, living with my parents and my sisters sharing the same room in the Hotel Rich. The hotel was well-known by  Chilean refugees in Buenos Aires. The accomodation and food was provided by the Hotel and the U.N paid the costs.  The Hotelier, Pipi provided food for us, but as most businessmen he cut corners to make more profit  in the food and cleanliness. When I think about it now, the food was so bad I wouldn't even feed my dog that food.  Those three long years;  that period of our lives I wouldn't call it living, I'd call it  existing, we felt we were in an Abyss.   Time went  slowly back then, no schooling for my sisters or me and my parents weren't allowed to work. We received from the UN, a monthly stipend as a family to spend it on  essentials such as clothes and toiletries. Mum kept control of the money we received, and on the odd...
Read more