All Chapters of Her Revenge: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Chapter 42 I should have understood that Dorian was not finished with me yet. I fixed my phone, the message staring me like a bullet bearing my name on it. We ought to chat. Personally. One final time. I remained silent. I was not that dumb. Still, the phrases twisted about my head like a noose. Dorian demanded things, not the kind of person to ask for them. And he grabbed what he desired by coercion when rejected. It crushed into my ribs, yet I breathed to force myself to stand taller. I never broke. Not now. never at all. Sylas leaned arms crossed across the marble counter across the room. His keen, deliberate look turned to mine from the phone. "He's not letting go," he said quietly. "He never does," I responded. Sylas exhaled and massaged the back of his neck. "You know meeting him isn't possible." I nodded, but below it something twisted. Dorian would not vanish all by itself. He would escalate should I fail to meet him. I had to be on target. For the re

Chapter 44Initially, I considered it as just another news item about the divorce—a rereading of all I had already survived. My phone then would not stop vibrating. More calls to attention, more writing. Additional missed calls. I stammered before starting the first piece. Then my body turned cold everywhere. "Aurora Langley: The Woman Driving the Scandal. The Untold Truth. As I ran over the article, the words started to fade. Personal information. Private events. Things only Dorian could have known; things I had never told anyone. In the past. my early years. The battles I had buried deep only to be pulled open and on show for everyone to view. I developed nausea. On the internet, things were merciless. They broke out every element, treating my suffering as though it were a grotesque exhibition designed for public viewing. Certainly presenting me as a sad victim. Others turned my past as fuel for their merciless viewpoints by distorted interpretation. Still, the

Chapter 46After hearing Dorian's message, Sylas had not spoken another word; however, his whole body had changed—rigid, dangerous, ready for war. His words still whirled in my thoughts. This comes to an end now. One part of me wanted to believe him, to hope he could manage this. But another side, the side moulded by years of manipulation and fear, realised that Dorian was not someone one could reason with. He stopped not one but twice. He hardly paused. And Sylas had now squarely placed himself in the sights. I crashed the door behind me as I followed him into his office. "You cannot just—" "I can," Sylas said, his voice strained as he rolled up his sleeves to expose the sharp lines of his forearms. And I shall. I crossed my arms. "You have no idea what his capacity is." His blue eyes danced with something dark and perilous. "And you don't know what I'm qualified for." My breath froze. It did not constitute a threat. It was an offer. Between us, the air seemed dens

Chapter 48The restaurant is poorly lighted, with a personal glow softening shadows on the immaculate white tablecloth. Softly in the background, a string quartet whispers a violin against the tension in the air. I ought not to be here. I are aware of this. Still, I find myself unable to get up from across from Sylas and watch the candlelight flutter in his emerald-green eyes. Not following my current daily schedule. I still find Dorian's onslaught cutting through me like glass in my memory. He had held my wrist too firmly, his words a piercing whisper into my flesh. “You belong to me, Aurora. Remember not to forget that.” My hold on my wine glass gets firmer in remembrance. I sip, the red liquid scorching down my throat, but it doesn't help me to relax. Sylas remarks. He certainly does. He always finds it. His little taps on the table, a silent invitation for me to talk. But I don't. For I might not stop once I start. At last, his voice low and steady, "You're quie

Chapter 50The restaurant was poorly lit, the kind of place where secrets were shared softly over costly whisky. The air smelt like old oak and leather, but behind it something more sneaky lingered—a trap just ready to be sprung. I came across him right away. Sitting in a booth in the rear, Dorian had legs crossed and a smile pulling at his lips like he had already won. These were always his favourite times—when he could exercise control and cause someone to squirm. Still, I was not here to engage in his game. Here I was meant to finish it. As I came, my heels clicked against the beautiful oak floor. I refused to waver, to let him see even a hint of uncertainty. This was my conflict. Not Sylas's. not anyone else's. Not sitting, I stopped just short of the table. "What would you want?" Dorian let out a sharp breath, acting disappointed. "Aurora, sweetheart, is that any way you would welcome your former husband? Not any pleasantries? At my sides, my hands closed into f