How do you destroy a man who's already destroyed you? Eleanor was the perfect wife-loyal, selfless, and willing to sacrifice everything for her marriage. She gave up her dreams and career to be a traditional wife. But for her husband,Charles Thompson, it was never enough. He was a serial cheater. A narcissist. An abuser. A man who shattered her spirit, cost her health, her womb, and her mental health. Then left her broken beyond repair. But not anymore. The Eleanor he knew is gone. Another Eleanor is reborn. She's tired of being the victim. Now, she's the hunter. Her mission? To bring Charles to his knees. In this game of secrets, lies, and revenge, Eleanor is ready to take risks she never imagined. She'll break every rule, cross every line, and stop at nothing until justice is served. He ruined her life. Now, it's her turn to ruin his. She's not here to forgive, and she's not here to forget. She will strike back! Charles made the mistake of underestimating her. Now, he's about to learn about a woman's rage.
View MoreELEANOR'S POV
A dead body lay in front of me—yet I couldn’t stop smiling. “What the hell is going on?” My husband, Charles demanded with his eyes wide with disbelief. He'd just returned home and stepped inside, only to freeze in shock after seeing me seated beside my sister’s lifeless body, with a police officer standing nearby. Margaret had been perfectly healthy and strong just that morning. The police officer turned to Charles and explained that Margaret had called emergency services, frantic and afraid. She’d insisted on speaking to an officer in person, claiming her life was in danger—and she’d given them our address. Unfortunately, when the officer arrived, the door was open, and no one was in the house except for the cold corpse of a young woman, a bottle of pills, and a suicide note on the table. "Your husband is responsible for my pregnancy," it read. Charles instantly denied everything, and to his greatest shock and disbelief, I defended him. It surprised him because I chose to believe him rather than my own sister—even knowing there was a possibility that his perverted mind could think of sleeping with the young girl. Moreover, he is a man who has no control over his sexual urges. Yet I chose to believe him? Why? I’m sure that question was all that ran through his mind after I defended him. “There’s no evidence my husband did anything wrong,” I told the police. “If my sister died, and it was by her own hand then my husband is completely innocent.” “Mrs Thompson, your sister left the note before she passed. We have reason to believe there may be more to this. I suggest a DNA test be carried out.” The officer replied. “What? That’s absurd,” Charles snapped. “She was like family to me—a younger sister of my wife. Why would she even write something like that?” The officer raised an eyebrow, his pen poised over his notebook. “That’s exactly what I’m here to figure out, sir. Were you having any sort of… inappropriate relationship with Miss Margaret?” Charles was furious. “Listen, officer,” he said sharply, “I’m a family man! I treated Margaret like my own sister. These accusations are insulting. She’s a teenager—a younger sister of my wife. What do you take me for? This is ridiculous!” “No one is accusing you of anything yet, Mr. Thompson. But we can’t ignore the note. It explicitly points to you,” the officer replied. Before Charles could say another word, I cleared my throat softly, drawing both their attention. “Officer, with all due respect, I don’t believe my husband would ever do such a thing. I trust him,” I said with a faint smile. The officer and Charles exchanged surprised glances. I’m sure my dry smile made them both uncomfortable and confused. The officer turned his focus to me. “Mrs. Thompson, I understand wanting to protect your husband, but the note—” I cut him off. “I know my husband. He’s not perfect, but he wouldn’t harm Margaret, and he certainly wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Like he said, she was only a teenager and like a younger sister to him. She must have been confused. Teenagers can be like that sometimes.” “Confused? Ma’am, it’s difficult to dismiss that as confusion.” I nodded. “Yes, I understand. But I know my husband well, he wouldn’t harm Margaret or engage in an inappropriate relationship with her. She is my younger sister, there must be a misunderstanding somewhere.” The officer raised a brow, unconvinced. “Respectfully, ma’am, it's hard to ignore the note. The deceased explicitly pointed to your husband. Are you absolutely certain there’s no possibility of… tension between them?” Charles bristled at the question. “Are you even listening to her? My wife is standing by me! Doesn’t that mean anything? She knows I could never harm her sister. And what is your evidence? A note from the deceased that could have been forged? How are you even sure she wrote that note?”That night I returned home from work.Suddenly I felt a headache creeping in before I even got my shoes off.There, sitting on the couch like she owned the place, was an old woman I didn't recognize.For a second, I froze, unsure of what I was supposed to do next. My heart raced. She looked experienced. This is not real. I don't believe in spiritualism bullshit, but what if she figured me out?The woman was small, with her gray hair pulled back into a neat little bun, her wrinkled hands folded in her lap like she'd been waiting for hours.My first thought was, Great. This must be the spiritualist Eleanor hired to interrogate me.I let the door shut behind me, squaring my shoulders with authority ,trying not to appear nervous as I walked in. I was already regretting coming home.She looked up, startled by my entrance and quickly stood up."You must be the spiritualist," I said, barely hiding my irritation.The woman blinked, startled, then smiled."Oh no, sir. I'm just the housekeepe
My outburst drew curious stares from nearby tables, but I couldn’t care less.I turned to Richard, my face covered with frustration and disbelief.“A spiritualist? What is this nonsense now?” I muttered, tossing my phone on the table.Richard leaned back, his arm still draped around Queen’s waist, a smirk playing on his lips.“Looks like your wife’s pulling out the big guns. Maybe she thinks you’re possessed or something.”I scoffed, rubbing my temples.“Possessed by what? She wants me to think that, and you know it, Richard. I’m not a child.”Monica giggled, running her fingers through my hair.“Maybe she’s just trying to save your soul, baby. You know, wives and their crazy ideas.”I glanced up at her, exasperated.“Save my soul? She’s the one driving me insane! You wouldn’t understand.”Monica pouted dramatically, leaning closer.“Poor thing. You should let me be your therapist. I promise I’ll make all your stress disappear.” She licked my ear.I smirked but waved her off, grabbing
"Yes!" I snapped, leaning forward. "I've never unlocked my phone in front of her. Never! I can't risk that. I'm too careful around her—she's very smart." "But you unlock it in front of me all the time," Richard countered, his tone calm but pointed. "If I know your password, what makes you think she doesn't? She lives with you, man. She's around you all the time." I hesitated for a moment, my eyes narrowing. "Look, just because you've seen me unlock it doesn't mean she has. I'm careful!" "Careful?" Richard scoffed. "You think you're the only careful man? Women are sharper than you think. She might've seen you type it in without you noticing. Or worse—she might've guessed it." I paused, looking uncomfortable. "It's not predictable. It's... it's random." At that moment, a tall, red-haired stripper in a shimmering silver bikini sashayed up to our table, her curvy body bouncing rhythmically to the music. Monica, my favorite stripper, smiled coyly as she leaned toward me, resting a
CHARLES'S POVThe Mega Life Exclusive Club was a popular spot that Richard and I loved to hang out at after taking a break from our tight medical schedules. Nothing felt better than a nice drink with your pal and hot girls twerking on your joystick! The club was dimly lit, with neon lights flashing in hues of pink, blue, and green, casting a glow over everything inside. Pop music thumped loudly, reverberating through the floor. The air smelled of perfume, alcohol, and a faint hint of smoke. Tables lined the perimeter of the room, and a long, sleek bar stretched along one side. Richard and I sat in a booth near the stage, drinks in hand. I swirled my whiskey absentmindedly, my main focus on the stage—a raised platform in the center, surrounded by poles that sparkled under the lights. Sexy, curvy strippers twirled, spun, and twerked their juicy, round assets to the music, drawing cheers and applause from the crowd. The big guys made money rain on them, and the strippers danced eve
"Victoria, your bitterness is your burden, not mine. No matter how badly you treat me, I will always be nice to you... it's pointless." "Well, what choice do you have? You pauper! You are here, acting like a great daughter-in-law, because you have your eyes on the prize. You want my brother's properties. That's why you refuse to give him a child! I won't allow it!" she snapped. Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. At the same time, Annabelle appeared in the doorway, nearly colliding with Victoria. She caught her older sister by the arm, frowning. "What's going on, Tori? What happened?" "Ask that witch!" Victoria spat, yanking her arm free and storming off. Annabelle frowned, her gaze following her as she stormed off. Something had clearly happened. She quickly made her way into the kitchen, where she found me standing by the sink, my hands gripping the counter as I stared down at the soapy water. She froze at the sight
I tilted my head, my gaze focused on Victoria, unblinking."You know, Victoria, it's funny you mention children."She folded her arms, a triumphant smirk spreading across her face."Oh, this should be good. Go on."I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a near whisper."IVF is not a secret anymore. I mean no offense, you know. Science is a wonderful thing, isn't it? Giving women in their forties the chance to finally have what they couldn't naturally."The slap came before I could finish my sentence.It was swift, sharp, and echoed through the kitchen like a gunshot.My head snapped to the side, my cheek stinging, but I didn't flinch or even raise my hand to my face.Instead, I laughed—a soft, chilling sound that sent a shiver down Victoria's spine."Touched a nerve, have I?" I murmured, straightening slowly.I turned my head to face her, my smile wide, making her uncomfortable. Her breathing was heavy, her face red with anger."Don't you dare bring IVF into this conversation again!"
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