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CHAPTER 10
Last Updated:
2025-09-13 01:04:20
Latest chapter
The Beaumont Revenge CHAPTER 12
“You look like you’ve been pulled through a paint mixer and left to dry,” Claire said, handing Rachael a neat stack of visitor brochures. She was another of Rachael’s colleague. Her voice had the bright, teasing edge of someone who meant well but loved to provoke.Rachael forced a smile and smoothed her blouse with fingers that did not feel like her own. “Generous. It’s been worse.”Claire set the brochures down with theatrical care. “Chevalier on you again, isn’t she? The efficiency queen?”“Like a howling judge,” Rachael muttered. The gallery around them hummed with midday traffic: footsteps on the hardwood, a low conversation at the front desk, the soft clink of a curator’s teacup somewhere to the left. Light pooled across framed canvases and sculptures, making gold of the dust motes that drifted through the air.Claire leaned closer, conspiratorial. “You should come to my apartment after work. Wine, terrible romantic comedies, and me judging the universe.”“I might actually be use
The Beaumont Revenge CHAPTER 11
“That telephone has been ringing for over an hour,” Madame Chevalier barked, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. “Where’s Rachael?”“I’m here,” Rachael said, rushing in through the back door, her cheeks flushed. She wasn’t late. She had snuck out during work hours. The reason was one she dared not confess. It had to do with her application.“Where have you been?” Madame Chevalier asked, her tone cutting, her expression unreadable.“I…”“You were not employed to give excuses,” Chevalier cut her off before she could form a full sentence. “Have you been keeping track of the gallery’s emails? I want a review on my desk by tomorrow morning.”“Yes, Madame. I’ll—”“You’re not properly dressed.” Chevalier’s eyes swept her from head to toe. Rachael wore black ripped jeans, a plain white shirt, and tennis shoes. “Do you think this is a playground? An art gallery is not a street corner.”“I’m sorry,” Rachael murmured, her head lowered.“You may not last here. Not under my watch.”
The Beaumont Revenge CHAPTER 10
The runway stretched before Adrien Moreau like a silver blade carved into the early dawn. The chill of morning still clung to the air, and the low rumble of engines echoed across the private hangar. Adrien walked with deliberate ease, his long coat brushing against his tailored suit, his bodyguards flanking him in precise formation. Their presence wasn’t merely protection—it was declaration.The jet waiting for him gleamed beneath the rising sun, a predator crouched and ready to strike. Its polished chrome reflected every flicker of light, and its sleek wings arched like blades. Inside, the cabin radiated the same ruthless elegance as the man it carried: cream leather seats stitched by hand, a mahogany table gleaming beneath soft golden lights, and carpets so plush they seemed to swallow footsteps.The steward greeted him with a bowed head. Adrien gave a brief nod before stepping in. The air smelled faintly of cedarwood and leather—a scent chosen deliberately to calm and dominate at o
The Beaumont Revenge CHAPTER 9
For the first time in weeks, Rachael woke up rested.The sunlight stretched across her room in golden slants, warming the sheets tangled around her legs. The silence was soft, unbroken by nightmares or nagging thoughts of Adrien Moreau. For once, her chest wasn’t weighed down by unease. She stretched, her body arching like a cat, and allowed herself a small smile.Her eyes roamed lazily around the room. The sight made her groan.A pair of jeans was draped over the chair, her sketchbooks were scattered across the floor like toppled dominoes, and a half-empty mug of cold tea sat abandoned on the desk. Her bedside lamp leaned precariously, as though even it had given up on her chaos.She winced.Thank God Jules isn’t here, she thought. He’d give me the lecture of a lifetime.As if summoned by her guilty conscience, her phone buzzed on the nightstand.The name flashing across the screen made her blink in surprise.Jules.She sat up straighter, smoothing her messy hair before answering—as
The Beaumont Revenge CHAPTER 8
Sleep was a joke that night.Rachael tossed and turned until her sheets were a tangled mess around her legs. She ended up flat on her back, staring at the ceiling like it might give her answers. But all it gave her was silence—silence and the ghost of Sofia Romano’s perfume, sharp and cloying in her memory.“Stay away from Adrien.”Those words had drilled into her ears and burrowed into her skull. They echoed now with the persistence of a dripping faucet—annoying, unshakable, impossible to tune out.She sat up abruptly, pressing her palms against her temples as though she could squeeze the thought out. Her gaze slid unwillingly to the dresser.There it was.The ivory card Adrien Moreau had handed her the other day. It perched smugly at the edge of the polished wood, its embossed gold lettering catching the silver threads of moonlight like it was deliberately mocking her.She scowled at it.“Don’t look so fancy,” she muttered under her breath. “You’re just paper.”Of course, that was w
The Beaumont Revenge CHAPTER 7
Rachael turned back to look at the person talking to her.At the sight of Sofia, she was a little intimidated. The woman stood like a magazine cover that had come to life—sleek black hair flowing effortlessly down her back, a tailored cream coat draped over her shoulders, and heels that probably cost more than Rachael’s rent. And she was staring. At her. With a focus sharp enough to cut glass.“Um… hi?” Rachael said slowly, hugging her handbag to her chest like a shield.The woman’s smile was dazzling. Too dazzling. The kind of smile that could sell perfume, crush self-esteem, and convince billionaires to sign contracts—all at the same time. It screamed: I eat girls like you for breakfast and floss with your insecurities.“I’m Sofia. Sofia Romano.”The name rolled off her tongue like a brand. Like Rachael was supposed to swoon, clap politely, and say, Oh yes, the Sofia Romano! The celebrity of all celebrities! Instead, she squinted.“Cool,” she said flatly. “And I’m Rachael. Rachael B
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