Books About Revenge Novels & Stories

"Liliana, I don't think you understand the current situation. Now, I'm the one Finnley likes, and you're the enemy he wants to torture. He has handed you over to me. Do you think I'll let you go?" A LITTLE AUTHOR NOTE Dear Readers, I know this story can be painful to read right now. Liliana is suffering, enduring heartbreak, injustice, and losses that may make you angry, frustrated, and even want to give up on this book. But I promise you, her pain is not meaningless. Some revenge stories burn hot and fast. This one is different. Revenge is a dish served cold, and Liliana's revenge will be worth the wait. Every tear, every humiliation, and every moment of suffering is building toward somethi

‘Trust me, if it takes that long to read a person, no one would want to do it. “Are you okay?” I looked back into Tessa’s eyes, so glad I got to meet her. Now I’m one step closer to catching my mother’s killer. ‘I think I found out who murdered my mother...’ I said to Antonio. ‘I know, did you forget you’re an open book now? Hold her hand with the both of yours and finish that vision.’ I mentally nodded and placed my other hand on Tessa’s. The vision continued. “Renee? Who is she? Why would she murder your wife?” Catherine’s hand was at her throat as she swallowed hard. Frank didn’t answer right away.

“Revenge.” “What?” “It's simple, Steph. Your life was almost ruined because of your fiancé and his secretary. Don't you want revenge on them?” He asked, his voice holding a mischievous edge and I shuddered “I do. But—” “Disappeare for two years, Stephanie. Your death certificate will be signed. Stephanie will die today. But you'll return as a different woman. As my wife.” He explained, and I froze in shock. “What?”

It’s the first real smell in the entire place. And books. Hundreds of them. Not decorator books arranged by color. Real books. Worn spines. Dog-eared pages. I run my fingers along the shelves. Financial theory. Biographies of Carnegie and Rockefeller. Philosophy. History. And fiction. I pull out a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. The spine creaks. Pages are yellowed, soft as cloth. I flip through and stop at the margin notes inked in neat, sharp handwriting. "Revenge consumes the avenger," written next to a passage about Edmond Dantès.

“Seth has ties to the mafia. He’s a part of that life. He might be dangerous, and if he finds out that I am deceiving him, what will happen to me?” “This changes nothing, Ivy. I have told you time and time again that by choosing to take revenge against the people who hurt our family, you are choosing to put your life in danger. Whether you like it or not, this is what you’re subscribed to, and I’m not going to let you stop.” “But—” “Remember that I am more dangerous than that man. I can do worse than he will do to you, and you know this. This retribution has been a long time coming, and I would be damned if I allowed your fear to get in the way.”

His voice was calm, but firm. “Then why?” she whispered. “So you can get revenge,” he said, not softening. The word struck odd and hard in the hum of the party. “Get your life back.” Her breath hitched. “Why?” “Because you deserve it,” he replied. His gaze was steady, unflinching. “Because the bastard deserves everything that’s coming.” Selene’s breath caught, a surge of anger flooding through her. "What do you mean?" "He’s been playing you for years. You think he’s the man you married, but he’s not. He’s nothing more than a coward."

"I'll do it. I'll agree to go back to the family and cancel the wedding with Robin." A long silence stretched from the other end of the line. He didn't ask why. He just said one word. "Alright." After hanging up, I immediately called my wedding planner. "This is Isabella Moretti," I commanded. "The wedding is off. I want everything pulled. The hall, the cars, the security detail, the food, the flowers. Pull it all. Now." "Wh-what? Miss Moretti, but…" "Do as I say." I have seven days to plot my revenge. The countdown starts now: Day One.

If I soften too early, if I fold in the face of a man’s sorrow, I may hand him the leverage he needs to undo everything. I cannot let that happen. I will test him the way the law will test him: with facts, witnesses, and records. If he truly wants to repair this, he will accept that scrutiny. Revenge is a defensive strategy. It is the only language available to someone who was rendered invisible in a previous life. I sit on the bed and breathe, counting the small practicalities. That is the work I have to do. The rest… the personal wishing, the hunger for a version of the man I loved… has to be managed and contained.

Cody even tried to grab my hand, but Noah stepped in to block him. “Emily, I know I was wrong. I’ll never listen to my mom again. “Because of my sister, I lost my job. Yet, my mom still wants me to get her out of prison. I’m really starting to hate her! “From now on, I’ll only listen to you. Please forgive me. Just look at me, Emily. Please?” I remembered how, in my last life, I had begged their family in the same pitiful way. Cody’s response back then had been, “You brought this on yourself. You deserve it.”

But unfortunately, she couldn't because she was dead. "They betrayed me," Carmen spat, her voice trembling with rage. "My husband. My best friend. They left me to die like I was nothing. They...they killed me." Nyx tilted her head, her expression contemplative. "You seek revenge, yet you are powerless in this state. What would you give to make them pay?" "Anything," Carmen said without hesitation, keeping her voice steady. "I'll give anything." Nyx's eyes gleamed, a faint sinister smile curving her lips. "Be careful what you wish for, mortal. Vengeance comes at a price."