* FREE - Author’s Revenge * Chapter 116 : if you’re ugly, then Victoria’s face is a train wreck!

Dear Gentle Readers, 

This author was denied promotion & the app actually said that this story does not perform well with only 4 readers and 2 comments thus no ads since last week... This author refuses to believe that especially when he saw at least 7 people liked & gave a thumbsup on the last free chapter. Can you please help this author by giving a thumbsup and commenting on this chapter, please? So this author has proof when consulting and reporting this to his editor tomorrow morning. 

As a token of gratitude for your generous help, please enjoy this chapter free of charge... 

Grazie mille. 

Yours, Ethan.

P.S. this is actually 2 chapters combined into 1 therefore it is quite long, apologies for that. 

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That night, Serena slept soundly, the kind of deep, dreamless rest that felt like a rare luxury. By the time morning light filtered through her curtains, her spirits were noticeably brighter.

The first thing she did upon waking was reach for her phone. A single missed call from Alexander flashed on the screen, his private number. She frowned slightly—had Grandpa scolded him again?

As she brushed her teeth, she typed a brief message: "Is there something wrong?"

At that very moment, Alexander was already at the Vanderbilt estate. When he saw her text—just four indifferent words after everything that had happened—something in him twisted with irritation. After the dramatic events at Le Châteauesque Manor, her laid-back attitude unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite place.

But he quickly dismissed it, locking his phone and deleting the message. If Grandpa wasn’t making an issue of it anymore, there was no reason to contact her.

Serena hadn’t expected a response anyway. She assumed Alexander had called about Grandpa, so after finishing her morning routine, she dialed the old man instead.

To her surprise, in Grandpa’s eyes, she was now the victim—the loyal wife suffering in silence while her husband openly strayed. His voice over the phone was filled with reassurance.

"Serena, rest assured, Grandpa will always support you. If anything like this happens again, just tell me, I'll make Alexander apologize to you."

Serena’s fingers tightened around her phone. Alexander had been raised under Grandpa’s strict guidance and rarely defied him. The only reason he had even agreed to this marriage years ago was out of respect for Grandpa’s health.

Grandpa continued, his voice unwavering. "As for Victoria, you don’t need to worry about her. I won’t let her into the Vanderbilt family. Even if it weren’t for you, she would never have been allowed to step through these doors."

So Grandpa had disliked Victoria all along?

A lump formed in Serena’s throat at the unexpected wave of warmth that spread through her chest. "Grandpa, thank you."

A soft chuckle rumbled through the receiver. "Silly child, what are you thanking me for? You’re the one being wronged, and you’re not even living at Le Châteauesque Manor, your rightful home. That house is yours to control. You decide who stays and who leaves. Even Alexander doesn’t have the right to be there if you don’t want him to be."

Serena’s breath caught. "Grandpa, what do you mean?"

"The property certificate is in your name alone," he revealed. "That house has belonged to you from the beginning. I made sure of it before your marriage. It’s legally your premarital asset."

Serena’s heart pounded. She had always thought Le Châteauesque Manor was a gift for both her and Alexander, but it turned out the deed had been in her name all along.

Overwhelmed, she bit her lip, afraid her voice would crack with emotion. Besides her mother, Grandpa was the only elder who had ever genuinely looked out for her.

After ending the call, her morning felt surprisingly peaceful. She made breakfast at a leisurely pace, enjoying the rare moment of calm before heading to the hospital. 

---------

Meanwhile, at the Kensington Manor, the Laurent’s Residence, Victoria had spent the entire night locked in her room, seething. The humiliation at Le Châteauesque Manor had left her trembling with rage.

Damn it!

What was so special about that woman? How could Cornelius Vanderbilt, a man of power and status, actually take her side?

With a sharp intake of breath, Victoria forced herself to stay composed. Smashing things wouldn’t fix this. She had been too impulsive. She knew Grandpa despised her, yet she had foolishly walked into the lion’s den based on Cordelia’s manipulative words.

Her bloodshot eyes burned as she bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted iron. "Michelle."

Michelle, who had been anxiously waiting outside, finally heard movement inside the room. She knocked lightly. "Victoria, you've locked yourself up all night. Come out and have something to eat."

Victoria took a slow breath, then exhaled. "Come in."

Michelle stepped inside hesitantly. "Cousin, what's wrong?"

Victoria turned to her, eyes cold with calculation. "Didn’t you join a bunch of socialite groups? Start a rumor—anonymously. Say that Alexander’s wife sneaks out every night and was caught in bed with another man. Make sure they believe Cornelius only keeps her around because she once saved his life. Also, say she’s hideously ugly."

Michelle’s eyes lit up with mischief. This was her expertise.

"Don’t worry, leave it to me. By the time I’m done, she won’t dare show her face in society again."

A slow, satisfied smirk spread across Victoria’s lips. Let’s see how long you can keep hiding, Serena.

---

Michelle got to work immediately. Within hours, whispers spread like wildfire in the city’s elite circles.

["Did you hear? Alexander’s wife sneaks out every night. And Alexander doesn’t even acknowledge her existence."]

["Seriously? But Cornelius personally chose her."]

["Cornelius is just tolerating her out of gratitude. She saved his life once, so he’s sparing her—for now. But from what I hear, they’re planning to pay her off and kick her out of the Vanderbilt family soon."]

["Makes sense. A woman like that could never compare to Victoria. No wonder Alexander is glued to Victoria now that she’s back."]

Soon, bets were being placed.

["Alexander and Victoria will be married within a month."]

["No way. A week, tops!"]

By midday, Victoria’s name was once again linked to Alexander’s in high society.

And as for Serena Morales?

She had become a nobody.

(From here, Serena will be referred to as Ava, as her best friend Rachel—although aware of her full name, Serena Ava Morales—respects Ava’s preference to use the middle name her mother had chosen for her rather than the first name her father had given her after his remarriage.)

---

The hospital corridors smelled faintly of antiseptic, a sterile scent that clung to the air no matter how many times the windows were opened. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a cool, artificial glow on the polished floors, reflecting off the quiet, muted world of nurses moving efficiently between patients. Ava sat against the wall, her arms crossed as she listened to Rachel vent beside her.

Rachel, heir to the Rowell fortune and no stranger to social circles, scrolled furiously through her phone. Her manicured nails tapped against the screen with irritation. "Ava, look at this garbage they’re saying! Calling you ugly? Promiscuous? I swear, if you’re ugly, then Victoria’s face is a train wreck!"

Ava remained still, her gaze unfocused. "Let them talk," she murmured, her voice devoid of emotion.

She knew how things worked in New York’s elite circles. The less attention people paid to her, the easier it would be to slip away when the time came. The world was watching Alexander and Victoria. She could use that distraction to quietly disappear.

Rachel, on the other hand, was nowhere near as calm. "I admire you, you know?" She shook her head in disbelief. "That’s Alexander we’re talking about. When he was with Victoria, women were heartbroken left and right, trying to get close to him. But you? You’re married to the man, and you act like he’s just another client. Ava, do you even have a pulse?"

Ava exhaled, closing her eyes as if willing herself to remain unaffected. But Rachel’s words had already sparked an unwanted memory—one she had buried deep. Not their first night together, but the time in the hotel… the way he had lifted her onto the foyer cabinet, his breath warm against her skin, his grip firm and unyielding.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she shifted uncomfortably.

Rachel, ever perceptive, narrowed her eyes. "Wait a second… Are you blushing?"

Ava turned her head away, feigning indifference. "No."

Rachel studied her for a long moment before leaning back, smirking. "Alright, alright. But you have nerves of steel. Any other girl would’ve jumped him by now. You must be immune to good looks or something."

Ava forced a smile, using the excuse of checking on her father to change the subject. Rachel, seeing through her but choosing not to push, let it drop.

Inside the hospital room, the doctor was carefully changing Alfonso’s bandages. His unconscious form remained still, the rhythmic beeping of the monitor the only sign of life. Outside the door, the two bodyguards Rachel had hired remained steadfast, having ensured that no one—especially the Morales family—had interfered in the past few days.

Rachel sighed, rubbing her temple. "Your stepmother has been crying outside every day, you know? And Josh—he got himself hospitalized, too. On top of that, Valentina is still sick. Say what you will, but Aramonta looks genuinely stressed."

At the mention of Araminta, Rachel’s tone turned sour.

Ava gave a noncommittal hum. She wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.

Rachel, undeterred, continued. "Do you have any shares in the Morales family business?"

"No," Ava replied. "My father mentioned it once, but nothing ever came of it."

Rachel clicked her tongue. "Then be careful. The Rowell family’s safe because I’m an only child, but families with step-siblings? It’s always messy. If you’re not careful, your parents’ entire legacy will go straight to Araminta."

Just then, two men in dark suits approached. Their movements were precise, their expressions professional.

"Miss Morales," one of them greeted smoothly. "We’re the lawyers Alfonso Morales hired regarding the company’s share distribution. Your father may have mentioned this to you. Would you be available for a meeting today?"

Ava, recalling her father’s intentions before his hospitalization, hesitated but saw no immediate reason to doubt them. After verifying their credentials, she turned to Rachel. "Go ahead if you have things to do. I’ll meet with them and see what they need."

Rachel left reluctantly, but Ava barely noticed, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of her father. His future, his company, his legacy—it was all uncertain.

The two lawyers led her outside, and soon they arrived at a quiet park nearby. The air was crisp, and the faint scent of freshly cut grass lingered. Ava sat down on a bench, her nerves slightly on edge.

As she settled, she noticed a familiar figure in the distance—Rita. The young woman was hunched over her sketchbook, absorbed in her drawing. When she lifted her head and spotted Ava, her face brightened.

"Ava! It’s been ages!" Rita called, hurrying over.

Ava gave a small smile. "Still sketching?"

Rita sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I was hoping to see my cousin, but he’s been too busy to spare a second for me."

As she spoke, her gaze flickered to the two men sitting with Ava. Her brows furrowed slightly. There was something oddly familiar about them.

"Ava, since you’re busy, I won’t interrupt. But if you have time later, let me know—I need your help with something. I’ll treat you to dinner."

Ava nodded in agreement, though her focus remained on the men before her.

The lawyers exchanged glances, a silent message passing between them.

"Miss Morales, how about we continue this conversation at a café?" one of them suggested.

Ava stiffened. The hospital was nearby, and she had expected to return there shortly. Why move to a café? A creeping sense of unease settled over her, making her palms damp with sweat.

Were these men really who they claimed to be?

From her spot in the park, Rita suddenly froze. Her memory clicked into place. She had seen one of them before—at a social gathering, standing near Michelle Vanderbilt.

The Laurent family's bodyguards.

Her eyes snapped back to Ava, and instinct took over. She called out, "Ava!" loud enough to startle both men.

Ava took that split-second distraction and bolted. Her heart pounded as she rushed toward Rita, her instincts screaming that she had just narrowly avoided something dangerous.

The two men didn’t chase her. Instead, they exchanged a look and quietly left, briefcases in hand.

Ava reached Rita’s side, her breath shallow. If Rita hadn’t been here, what would have happened?

"Ava," Rita asked, voice laced with confusion, "why were you with the Laurent family's bodyguards? Are you involved with them somehow?"

Ava’s thoughts raced. If these men truly were connected to the Laurents, then Michelle—or worse, someone higher up—was involved.

"Are you sure they were from the Laurent family?" she asked carefully.

Rita hesitated. "I think so. I’ve seen one of them around before. But then again, a lot of rich families have bodyguards who look similar."

Ava’s pulse still hadn’t slowed. Whether they were from the Laurent family or not, one thing was certain—she had been a target.

Sensing her unease, Rita linked her arm with Ava’s, a reassuring presence. "Did you finish your meeting already? Let’s go look at some sketches, and we’ll grab dinner later."

Ava nodded, still shaken but grateful. She wasn’t about to separate from Rita now. It was safer to be with Rita now...

---------

A few hundred meters away, two men huddled in the shadows, making a call to Josh. Their expression was tense as they whispered into the receiver.

"Young master, our apologies. Everything was foolproof, but Miss Rita from the Vanderbilt family appeared unexpectedly. We encountered her before when we worked as bodyguards for the Laurent family. Her driver is nearby, and we had to retreat. We failed our mission to subdue and take Serena today."

Josh’s grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles whitening with fury. His breath came in short, ragged bursts as the muscles in his jaw tensed. He had crafted the perfect trap—posing as a lawyer, luring Serena in with talk of her father’s company, drugging her, and then taking his time with her. He had planned to savor her fear, hear her cries, break her until she begged him for mercy. But now, all of it had been ruined by that meddlesome Vanderbilt woman.

A low, guttural growl rumbled in his throat. The torment of his own useless body haunted him every waking moment. His mind, consumed by obsession, allowed no room for logic—only the relentless need to claim what he believed was his.

"I'll add an extra five hundred thousand to your payment," he spat, his voice thick with venom. "You must bring her to me."

The men exchanged glances, eyes widening. That was five million.

After being fired from the Laurent family, they had been scraping by, taking odd jobs just to survive. This was an opportunity they couldn’t afford to lose.

"Sir, don’t worry," one of them assured. "We’ll keep following her. She’s been alerted, but we’ll find another opportunity."

Josh barely heard them. The moment the call ended, he threw the phone against the wall with a violent crash. His chest heaved as his gaze darkened, burning with rage and unfulfilled desire. The thought of Serena’s face, her body, sent a feverish heat through him—only to be extinguished by the cold, humiliating reminder that he was broken. That part of him, the part that once made him a man, was now lifeless.

A furious roar tore from his throat as he swept everything off the table. Glass shattered, papers fluttered to the floor, and a lamp crashed, sending sparks flickering before dying out.

From the hallway, Valentina had heard the commotion. She entered cautiously, her silk robe brushing against the polished wooden floors, her expression carefully composed.

"Brother, are you alright?" Her voice was soft, but her eyes gleamed with something far more calculating.

Josh sneered, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "I must have Serena. I will use all means to humiliate her. I want her broken. Only then can I find peace."

Valentina’s lips curled into a knowing smile. If her brother wanted Serena, and she wanted Alexander, then their goals aligned perfectly.

"Brother, you need to be patient. You should create misunderstandings first." She knelt gracefully, picking up a fallen vase and dusting it off as if tidying up his mess extended to his entire plan. "The reason I had you send the Laurent family's bodyguards after her was to make her think it was Victoria’s doing. Once she’s hurt and she runs to Alexander, he won’t help her. He might even sympathize with Victoria and consider divorce."

Josh’s rage simmered, his breathing slowing as he processed her words.

Valentina continued, her voice like honey laced with poison. "Once she’s divorced, and with Father in the hospital, there will be no one to protect her. Then, no matter what you do to her, no one will come to her aid."

She spoke slowly, watching the storm in Josh’s eyes shift into something more sinister.

For Valentina, this was about more than just revenge—it was strategy. She knew Victoria would feel triumphant if Serena and Alexander separated. Let her. Let Victoria and Ava tear each other apart. In the end, Valentina would remain standing.

She had not forgotten the humiliation she suffered at Victoria’s hands. For now, she would let the others fight. It didn’t matter who fell first—either way, she would win.

Josh finally chuckled, a slow, eerie sound. His sister had grown shrewd, her mind nearly as twisted as his own.

"Valentina, you’re getting smarter."

Valentina met his gaze and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

"Josh, I’m doing this for us."