âRevenge Isnât Power â Itâs Captivity of the Mind.â
The hidden moral of revenge fantasies...
The hidden moral of the story, when it comes to revenge fantasies, is something most people never notice. The writer might not notice it either, because itâs rarely discussed. And thatâs the loss of mental sovereignty in the victim of bullying.
I realized this while listening to a dark sapphic romance. The protagonist used to be wealthy, untouchable, and cruel. Her superiority came from her familyâs status, and she bullied anyone she saw as beneath her. But when her family lost everything, she shrank into shame â oversized sweater, lowered head, walking like someone trying to disappear.
Desperate for work, she applies for a job as a personal servant to the CEO of a massive corporation. The twist: the CEO is one of her former victims. They recognize each other instantly. The CEO throws the contract on the floor and forces her to sign it on her knees.
At first glance, the CEO seems powerful: wealthy, composed, in control. But then she reveals something fatal: she has waited five years for this moment. Five years of imagining revenge. Five years of carrying her bully in her mind.
And thatâs when the illusion breaks. Because if youâve been thinking about someone for five years, they own you. Your life has been shaped around them. Your identity has been built in reaction to them. You are not free.
The CEO believes sheâs dominating her exâbully, but sheâs actually confessing her captivity. Her revenge fantasy only works if the exâbully cries, reacts, and complies. If the exâbully stops reacting, if she refuses unethical demands, if she keeps a deadpan face, if she says, âfire me if you want, youâll still think about me afterwardâ â the entire fantasy collapses.
Because the CEOâs power is conditional. It depends on the exâbullyâs participation. And that means the exâbully still holds the real power: psychological power. The power of being the one who shaped the otherâs mind.
Money can buy labor, but it cannot buy sovereignty. And the CEO surrendered hers long before they ever reunited.
So even though the exâbully looks powerless, she isnât. She still haunts her victimâs mind. Thatâs real power. The kind that lingers until the victim chooses to let go. And until that day comes, the exâbully holds the upper hand without even realizing it.
The deeper layer: Revenge is a story about who is still wounded...
Revenge fantasies are often framed as empowerment. The victim finally gets their justice. But psychologically, revenge is rarely about justice. Itâs about unfinished emotional business. Itâs about a wound that never healed, a moment that froze someone in time.
The CEO isnât powerful; sheâs stuck. Sheâs not reclaiming her life; sheâs orbiting the past. Sheâs not punishing her bully; sheâs reenacting her trauma.
Revenge is not a sign of strength. Revenge is a sign of attachment.
And attachment to a wound is still attachment.
This is why the exâbully, ironically, has more freedom. Sheâs not thinking about the CEO. Sheâs not replaying the past. Sheâs not building her identity around what happened. Sheâs mourning her own losses, yes, but sheâs not mentally tethered to her victim.
Thatâs the real tragedy: the person who was hurt is still living inside the moment of hurt, while the person who caused it has moved on.
The cultural layer: Why we love revenge stories...
We love revenge stories because they promise a fantasy of emotional closure. They tell us that if we just get even, the pain will stop. But revenge doesnât heal. It doesnât restore dignity. It doesnât return what was lost.
Revenge only proves that the wound still has power.
And in this story, the CEOâs entire identity is built around that wound. She has wealth, status, and control, but she doesnât have peace. She doesnât have sovereignty. She doesnât have freedom from the past.
Revenge is not empowerment. Revenge is fixation dressed up as power.
The philosophical layer: Power is not what people think it is...
control over someoneâs body
the ability to give or take away resources
But real power is none of those things.
Real power is who shapes whose inner world.
If someone can make you think about them for five years, they have power over you, even if they never intended to. Even if they forgot you existed. Even if theyâre on their knees signing a contract on the floor.
Power is not dominance. Power is influence. Power is presence. Power is who you cannot stop thinking about.
And the CEO cannot stop thinking about her bully.
Thatâs the real hierarchy.
The emotional layer: The exâbullyâs unrecognized leverage...
The exâbully doesnât realize she has power because sheâs grieving her own downfall. Sheâs ashamed, humiliated, and desperate. But if she ever becomes aware of the psychological dynamic, everything shifts.
refuse to play the role the CEO needs her to play
And the CEOâs entire fantasy collapses.
Because the fantasy requires the exâbully to be small. It requires her to be broken. It requires her to be the villain who finally gets punished.
If she refuses that role, the CEO loses the script sheâs been rehearsing for five years.
And thatâs the moment the power dynamic flips, not because the exâbully gains anything, but because the CEO loses the illusion sheâs been clinging to.
The final truth: Sovereignty is the only real power...
Money can buy labor. Status can buy compliance. Fear can buy silence.
But nothing can buy sovereignty of mind.
And the CEO gave hers away years ago.
The exâbully doesnât need wealth or status to have power. She already has the one thing the CEO canât reclaim without letting go: the freedom to live without thinking about her.
Thatâs the real moral of the story â and itâs rarely discussed.
