All Chapters of Revenge With My Brother’s Best Friend : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

CINDY’S POV“I became crippled because of you,” I whispered, voice trembling. “And now you have the guts to bring another woman into this house?”Henry didn’t flinch.He stood by the doorway in his perfectly tailored shirt, tall and broad-shouldered, looking all smug and vile.One hand rested on Monica’s waist like she was some fragile trophy. Monica, with her fake blonde hair and perfectly arched brows, batted her lashes and clung to him like she might disappear if he let go.He smirked. “You think I owe you forever just because you pushed me out of the way three years ago? Get over it, Cindy. That was pity, not love.”My heart thudded like a war drum, so loud I could barely hear anything else.Vivian, his mother, cold and wicked, snorted from behind him.“Honestly, Cindy. You’ve milked that accident long enough. Maybe if you spent less time playing victim and more time acting like a real wife, he wouldn’t need Monica.”“Real wife?” My voice cracked.“I married into this family after

[One Week Later] ~DAMIAN’S POV~ The secretary’s moan vibrated against my lips as I slammed her against the office desk, her skirt already bunched up around her waist like a proper slut. She whimpered, grinding her hips into me, nails clawing down my chest as she fumbled with my belt, desperate for it. Fuck. I smirked against her mouth, biting her lower lip hard before pulling back to drink her in. Blouse half-unbuttoned, tits spilling out of that lacy bra, and nipples poking through like they were screaming for my teeth. My cock throbbed painfully, straining against my slacks, ready to wreck her. “Mr. Thorne,” she gasped, fingers finally popping my button open, voice all breathy and wrecked. “You’re such a fucking tease…” she started, but I cut her off with a bruising kiss, tongue fucking hers as she yanked my zipper down. My hands dug into her ass, squeezing hard, pulling her tighter against my bulge just as my phone started blaring on the desk. “Ignore it,” she panted, div

~Cindy's POV~ “What?!” Henry’s voice ripped through the heavy silence that had taken hold of the room, his eyes wide and wild like they might pop right out of their sockets. He wasn’t the only one reeling. Lydia, Vivian and Monica stood frozen, mouths gaping open, faces stiff with disbelief. Their jaws might as well have hit the damn floor. But even they weren’t as stunned as I was. I blinked. This is Damian? I hadn’t seen him since he left D.C. with his family, back when we were kids. I was only seventeen, and he was just a bratty-ass sixteen-year-old. I’d only heard snippets about him from Alaric, and from what I gathered, Damian was never one for the spotlight. No social media trails and no flashy public appearances. Despite running one of the most talked-about companies in the country, few people even knew he was the CEO. He always stayed in the shadows, keeping a very low profile and letting his younger brother Elis handle the cameras and galas. So when did he tur

~DAMIAN’S POV~ The door clicked shut behind us as we stepped into a tastefully furnished room. Spacious, stylish, and yeah ….very her. I gave it one lazy sweep, my eyes dragging over the queen-sized bed with its hospital-neat sheets, the nude, minimalist aesthetic — clean lines, soft neutrals, painfully serious. So very Cindy. Probably thought this boring-ass color scheme screamed “class.” To me? It screamed “emotional constipation.” There were two doors at the far end— bathroom, closet, probably. Above the bed hung some abstract frame art that looked like it had been scribbled by a depressed toddler. Nice try, though. Cindy hadn’t said a word since we got in.(She’s probably still dripping wet from that kiss.) I smirked to myself. After all these years, I finally get to see her again, and this time, I’m not the sixteen-year-old she broke. I’ll break her instead. I stalked lazily to the bed and dropped down onto the plush mattress like I’d paid rent on it for mon

~CINDY’S POV~ By the time I made it downstairs, the ache in my knees had dulled, only to be replaced by the burn of walking in on the Callahans enjoying breakfast without me. All spoons halted midair as their sharp eyes pinned me in place, especially Mr. Hen-prick’s. I almost smiled at the Damian-induced nickname, but his expression upstairs kept replaying in my mind, tightening my chest. I shoved it away, squared my shoulders, and lifted my chin under their collective glare. The table was a picture-perfect spread: fluffy scrambled eggs gleaming golden under the light, stacks of pancakes dripping with syrup, sizzling bacon curling at the edges, fresh bread still steaming in a wicker basket. The smell wrapped around me, warm and rich, making my stomach tighten with hunger. Monica’s handiwork, of course. Lydia and Vivian couldn’t cook to save their lives. When I married into this family, I continued to cook for them despite my condition. But ever since Monica arrived, she’d tak