In the heart of the bustling metropolis, Jenna Gaine, a single mother in her early 30s, juggled her roles with a fierce dedication. As a forensic journalist, her days were consumed by unraveling mysteries and exposing truths, but her most cherished role was that of mother to her young son, Tyler. Their small apartment, a haven amidst the chaos of the city, resonated with love and resilience.

One stormy night, as Jenna and Tyler cozied up while she read him a book, a violent gust of wind rattled the bones of their home. With a shattering crash, Tyler's bedroom window gave way, scattering shards across his small room. Tyler's eyes widened in fear, and Jenna quickly scooped him up, her heart racing.

"Mommy, is the storm angry at us?" Tyler's voice trembled.

"No, sweetie, it's just nature's way. We're safe, I promise," Jenna reassured him, masking her own concern.

The next morning, under a gray, brooding sky, Jenna sat at her cluttered kitchen table, her laptop open in front of her. She needed a quick, affordable solution for Tyler’s broken window. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, scouring the internet for a repair service. That's when she found QuickFix Repairs. Their promise of swift, economical service was exactly what she needed.

Without hesitation, she dialed their number. The voice on the other end was smooth and reassuring.

"QuickFix Repairs, how can we assist you today?" the operator asked.

"I need an urgent window repair. Can you help?" Jenna's voice was laced with urgency.

"Absolutely, ma'am. "We can send someone over today" the operator responded with practiced ease.

Relief washed over Jenna as she arranged the details.

Later that day, a repairman from QuickFix repairs arrived. His work was hasty, and Jenna's instincts screamed that something was off. She watched him warily as he patched up the window with quick, unskilled movements.

"Are you sure that will hold?" Jenna asked, skepticism in her voice.

"Absolutely, ma'am. you have nothing to worry about" the repairman replied, avoiding her gaze as he hurriedly collected his fee and left.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

However, within hours, Jenna's skepticism proved right. The repair fell apart, the window now in a worse state than before. Frantic, she called QuickFix Repairs, her voice firm and demanding.

"I need you to come back and fix this properly. I paid for a service I didn't receive," she insisted.

"Uh, we're really sorry, but we're fully booked. Can't do much right now," the customer service representative answered, their tone dismissive.

"Look, this is completely unacceptable," Jenna said, her voice a controlled blend of assertiveness and frustration. "Your repair has made things worse. I expect someone to come out and rectify this immediately."

The representative sighed audibly. "Ma'am, as I said, we're swamped. Best we can do is put you on a waiting list, maybe next month?"

"Next month?" Jenna's voice rose in disbelief. "I paid for a service, and I expect it to be delivered as promised. This is not how you run a business!"

"I understand your frustration, ma'am, but our hands are tied. You'll just have to wait like everyone else," came the indifferent reply.

Jenna's patience snapped. "No, I won't wait. I want a refund, now. It's clear you can't provide the service you promised."

There was a pause, and then a mocking tone crept into the representative's voice. "A refund? That's not our policy, ma'am. You should have read the terms and conditions more carefully."

"I don't care about your policy. You didn't fulfill your part of the agreement. I demand a refund, or I'll take this matter further."

The line crackled, and then the representative's voice returned, now cold and final. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing more to discuss. Have a good day." The line went dead.

Jenna stared at her phone, her heart racing with indignation. She tried calling back, but a recorded message informed her that the number was no longer in service for her. Her attempts to reach them through other means hit a dead end and soon she discovered her number had been blocked.

In her dimly lit living room, Jenna sat seething, the phone still in her hand. Her eyes blazed with a fury rarely seen, a storm raging within her.

"They picked the wrong person to mess with," she whispered to herself, her voice a chilling blend of calm and menace. Her mind, always analytical, now shifted gears, contemplating her next move. It wasn't just about the money or the window anymore. It was about principle, about justice.

"They think they can just take advantage and walk away?" Jenna's voice was low, simmering with a dark intensity as she spoke to the empty room. "They've made a serious mistake. I'll make them regret underestimating me." Her laugh, more a bitter scoff, was tinged with a disturbing edge. "I'll track them down, one by one. They won't even see it coming. They've picked the wrong person to mess with."

Jenna's eyes, staring into the darkness, revealed a chilling resolve, the kind that comes from deep-seated anger and a mind pushed too far.

Her resolve hardened; Jenna began to plot her retaliation. The journalist in her knew how to dig for information, how to track down leads. She would use those skills to find those responsible. This time, it was personal.