All Chapters of Revenge Becomes Her: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Carlisle Residence – MorningIt was a deceptively peaceful morning at the Carlisle household. Sunlight spilled through the wide kitchen windows, casting a golden glow over the quiet chaos of family life. The maid moved fluidly around the kitchen, laying out fresh plates of bacon, eggs, and toast. Eliot sat at the head of the table, sipping his coffee, watching the steam curl upward.Across from him, his son Sean orchestrated an epic battle between chicken nuggets and broccoli, complete with dinosaur sound effects. At the far end, his wife Harlene gently coaxed baby Agatha to take another spoonful of mashed banana, smiling through the sleepy rhythm of domesticity.Then came the ping.Eliot’s phone vibrated against the polished table. He picked it up casually, thumb-unlocking the screen—until his eyes locked on the subject line:RE: Office Sweep Results — Surveillance ConfirmedHis breath hitched.He scrolled quickly. Three hidden cameras. Five microphones. His entire office was compromi

When Fallon stepped into Nathan’s office, Eliot was already gone.But the evidence of his recent presence lingered—two coffee mugs sat on the table, still steaming faintly. Nathan lounged on the sofa, casually scrolling through his phone like nothing had happened.“Eliot’s a decent man,” he said coolly without looking up. “No wonder you wanted to see him again.”Fallon frowned but said nothing.She walked past him without a word, straight to the ornate lampshade on his desk.Nathan’s eyes narrowed, tension flickering in his jaw.“What are you doing?” he asked carefully.Still silent, Fallon reached up and yanked something loose from inside the lampshade—a tiny black object clattered into her palm.A hidden camera.She turned to face Nathan slowly, eyes blazing.“You can’t play with my emotions, Nathan,” she said coldly.Nathan opened his mouth, stunned—but before he could respond—Fallon let out a gut-wrenching scream.The kind of scream that made walls vibrate. The kind of scream tha

In the HAWKE RESIDENCE, NIGHTFALL…Silas stood in his private study, the soft amber glow of the desk lamp casting deep shadows across his face. Outside, the estate was quiet—too quiet. Rebecca was sedated again, locked in a cycle of painkillers and tears. The staff barely spoke anymore. The once-grand house felt more like a mausoleum.Silas moved quickly, methodically.First, he retrieved a slim black briefcase hidden behind a false panel in the bookshelf. Inside were USB drives—copies of off-the-record transactions, slush funds, untraceable crypto transfers, backdoor shares, emergency accounts routed through shell companies in Zurich, Singapore, and Dubai.He’d learned well from the Walton family. And now he would use that knowledge to escape them.Next, he opened his encrypted laptop and began liquidating what remained of his personal shares. Not all at once, that would raise too many alarms. Instead, he used third-party proxies, quiet transfers, and ghost accounts that had taken him

Inside the luxury restaurant – NIGHTThe wine cellar glowed in candlelight, wrapped in velvet silence. Tucked away beneath Midtown, it was the kind of place where secrets were whispered and never repeated.Dinner was quiet—too quiet.Ethan watched Fallon closely, his fork resting in his hand. Despite the elegance she wore like a second skin, there was an unmistakable unease about her. Her smile was perfectly measured, her posture too straight. But it wasn’t the discomfort that gnawed at him.It was something else.The way she seasoned her food—just a precise dash of salt, a flick of pepper.The way she cut her steak, always from the left, always three small slices before taking a bite.The way she chewed slowly, pausing to dab her lips delicately with the napkin.It was haunting. “Sherah.”His chest tightened, the ghost of memory coiling around his ribs. He smiled—but bitterly. The resemblance wasn’t skin deep. It was habitual. Reflexive.He set his cutlery down gently.Then, slowly, c

Fallon stepped out of the bedroom, still tugging the sleeves of her cardigan into place. Her eyes narrowed as the scent of breakfast hit her: bacon, eggs, and French toast. Golden and crisp, just the way she liked them.At the center of it all sat Nathan, lounging at the dining table with a mug of coffee in hand, his usual cocky grin in place.She squinted at him. “Someone woke up on the right side of the bed.”Nathan chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. “Just be thankful your husband is nice, understanding, and let’s not forget, drop-dead gorgeous.”She rolled her eyes, giggling softly as she slid into her seat. “Yeah, right. You left out ‘shameless.’”“I thought that was a given.” He winked, sipping his coffee with maddening ease.Fallon helped herself to a plate, her appetite slow to wake despite the effort he’d clearly made. The silence between them was comfortable, but Nathan’s gaze was watchful, too still.Too strategic.He stirred his coffee again, slower this time, his min