All Chapters of The First Wife’s Revenge : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The storm had passed, but the silence that followed was worse.Jessica’s double had vanished as quickly as she appeared. The company, Ethan’s empire was a carcass picked clean by scandal and fear. Reporters camped outside. Investors fled. The once golden name of Henderson Company now tasted like ash in everyone’s mouth.But Olivia Henderson was done mourning what wasn’t hers.She was building something new.The penthouse smelled like metal and coffee. The walls were bare now, except for one whiteboard covered in sketches, dresses, fabric swatches, color palettes, logos. Across the top, in big bold handwriting, she had written, “MONROE ATELIER”.Her new empire.“Minimalism, elegance, rebellion,” she murmured, tracing her finger over a sketch. “No past. No ghosts.”The name ‘Monroe’ came from her mother, someone the world never knew, a woman who had sewn dresses in a small apartment while dreaming of Paris. Olivia wanted this brand to feel alive again, not like the broken corporations s

The moon was full over the Carpathians, silver light dripping over the forest like droppings of mercury. Olivia drove through the winding roads alone, the headlights cutting through fog thick as smoke. Every turn felt like it could be the last.She wasn’t Olivia Monroe here.Tonight, she was Elena Roth, a patron, a donor, one of the nameless investors drawn to the promise of rebirth.The invitation had been hand delivered to her hotel by a man who never spoke. The paper was black, the seal crimson wax. Inside it said only, “Those who seek truth must pay in blood. Sanctuary of the Oath, midnight.”Her pulse hadn’t calmed since.The sanctuary loomed ahead, an ancient fortress half carved into the mountain. Torches flared along its steps, casting gold against black stone. Guards dressed in ceremonial red stood at the gate. They didn’t ask for identification. They only extended their hands.Olivia knew what they wanted.She drew a small blade from her clutch, pricked her finger, and let

The lights of the penthouse flickered as Olivia stepped through the revolving doors, her heels clicking softly against polished marble. Rain streaked down the windows behind her, catching in the city skyline like liquid silver. She paused for a moment, feeling the black ring on her finger pulse, tight and insistent. It reminded her that she wasn’t just here as Olivia Monroe Castillo. She was the Reborn, someone whose past and present had been stitched together by blood, power, and Jessica’s lingering influence.Tonight, she was hunting. And her prey wasn’t just anyone, it was Marcus Vale.He wasn’t just a financier. He was dangerous, untouchable, and tied intimately to Ethan’s hidden empire. Marcus had the charm to seduce, the ruthlessness to manipulate, and the wealth to cover every dirty secret that could ruin Olivia if he wanted.But she had a secret of her own now, knowledge, influence, and the dangerous allure of someone who could play the game better than he could.She stepped i

Amelia’s ring still haunted Olivia.Same design. Same shadowed glint of black metal. Same pulse of something alive beneath the surface.Olivia didn’t sleep that night. She paced through the penthouse, phone in hand, mind racing through numbers, names, and escape routes. The pact with Ethan had become a trap. Again. And she fell for it again.By sunrise, she’d already made her choice.If Ethan and Marcus wanted to play gods, she would be the devil they didn’t see coming.The next day, she arrived at Monroe Atelier’s private office, her empire in motion. Assistants moved quietly through glass corridors. Her name was on every wall, her brand reborn from ashes. But she could feel the fault lines beneath it all.The cult, the ring, Jessica’s ghost, all connected through old accounts and buried contracts.Every man who’d ever claimed to love her was sitting on her fortune.Olivia sat at her desk, straight backed, controlled, as her chief financial officer, Lydia, placed a folder in front of

The Monroe Estate had never looked like this before, never this golden, never this sharp, never this intimidating. Olivia had built it into a fortress for tonight. Not because she wanted a fairytale wedding. She wasn’t that naïve anymore.This was strategy.This was positioning.This was a message to every ally and enemy watching, “I choose my battles. And I win them.”By dusk, the place glittered like a million dollar campaign. The courtyard was transformed into a ceremonial aisle stretched under a canopy of crystal lights. A classical quartet played slow, powerful music, nothing soft, nothing sentimental.Each note was precise, controlled, like Olivia herself.Guests filled the space, CEOs, investors, politicians, fashion elites.Everyone dressed like they were entering royal court.Everyone whispering.“Why now?”“Is this real?”“Is Jessica really alive?”Rumors circulated like oxygen.Olivia’s name was on every tongue.She kept her face calm and unreadable.Her wedding dress, sle