Beauty's Revenge Novels & Stories

She was also fiercely loyal and incredibly resourceful. A moment later, Beauty appeared, her brow furrowed with concern. “Elena? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “The dress,” I gasped, pulling her into the closet room and pointing to the ravaged gown. “It’s…it’s been ruined.” Beauty’s eyes widened in horror and nerves as she took in the damage. “Oh, Elena! What happened?” “Someone ruined my dress.” Beauty coughed a little. With trembling hands, she began to unbutton my simple white robe, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and fear. As she helped me into what would’ve been my perfect dress, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could still work out.

Yet, beneath the practiced sorrow lay a steely determination—a promise of retribution that would not be silenced. In the quiet of her penthouse later that night, Aurora sat curled in an overstuffed chair, watching the relentless advance of the scandal on her tablet. With each new article and broadcast segment, a part of her felt vindicated. She could almost taste the sweet satisfaction of justice as Dorian’s desperate attempts at damage control became more frantic by the minute. Every frantic call he made, every harsh command he barked at his staff, was a small triumph in her long-planned rebellion.

I nodded but then looked at him confused, I thought his daughter was 12, apparently not. “Bella, your hair is out of place. Come on I will fix it for you.” I looked at Jenny and then nodded moving closer to her. We were in the kitchen since the guests had started to arrive and I didn’t want to show him our salon. I looked at the mirror in the hallway and smiled, Jenny had proved her instincts again. The line illusion neckline long brown tulle lace evening dress looked really beautiful. I had placed my hair in a messy bun and wore no accessories so that the dress bought my pale skin out. Even Dahlia looked amazing in her green metallic shimmer dress.

Genevieve. There was only one thought in my head as we both shook our hands; am I making the right decision? Was I going to place my trust in a man I know nothing about? But this….this wasn’t about trust, it’s about my revenge. It’s about me becoming stronger than I was before, it’s about me fighting for my rights. “Your head is in the cloud again,” I blinked and slowly brought my face down. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment.

The old couple's cries pierced the air, raw and unrelenting. Suddenly, a surge of anger coursed through me, and I hurled the powder compact in my hand to the ground. It shattered, scattering fine particles across the floor like dust over a battlefield. "Can you two just shut up already?!" I shouted, my voice slicing through their wails. "God, you're driving me insane! If it weren't for all your flailing around, do you think I'd have wasted my false lashes? Do you even understand how essential false lashes are to eye makeup?"

The lines between hate and love blurred, forcing her to confront the complexities of her own emotions. As the silence lingered, Florida and Beta found themselves caught in a delicate dance—a dance of revelations and unspoken truths, where past wounds collided with unexpected connections. In this pivotal moment, Florida's journey of revenge took an unforeseen turn, opening a path to rediscovering the depths of her own heart and the possibility of forgiveness.

She then hit the call button and shouted in anger, "Where is the doctor?! The patient is injured again! Is this how you take care of a patient?!" After my hand was bandaged, I lowered my head and looked at my distorted hands. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Magnolia carefully took my hand and said, "Does it hurt? This is all my fault. Your hands have gotten worse again... Guess we have no choice but to postpone the wedding…" She truly was a good actress. I almost believed that she couldn't be the same woman who had killed my sister and was trying to destroy me. For one brief moment, I almost asked her whether I had ever crossed her in some way. Why was she doing this to me?

The crowd was a whirl of silk and steel — powerful men and women who made the city’s fortunes and its ruin in whispered deals and smoldering glances. Adrielle stepped into the club with the calm certainty of a predator entering her hunting ground. Her heels clicked against the polished concrete, sharp and deliberate, echoing through the cavernous space. She wore black like armor: a sleek dress hugging every calculated curve, her midnight-black hair swept back in a ruthless style that matched her steel-gray eyes. Eyes that missed nothing. Eyes that now belonged to someone reborn, remade in betrayal and fire. She was no longer the broken woman who’d collapsed in the rain outside the mansion th

She became everything Alexander Lance taught her. Four years later, she was already makingher own millions. She decided it was time to come back to America and face her past, running away from it wouldn't help. She wasn't scared anymore. She was hellbent on getting her revenge on the Roberts for what they did to her. She was planning on beating them in their own game. She became their biggest Rival. But the Roberts had no idea that the same Elisa Evans who they used and manipulated by Martina Roberts was the same Elisa Lance of now.