Glamour And Sass: A Rejected Bride's Revenge Mga Nobela at Kwento

She was dressed in a crisp, sharp-collared long-sleeved shirt tucked into a perfectly ironed, professional short skirt that moved with her hurried pace. She didn't wait for an invitation, her heels clicking rapidly across the marble floor as she took in the scene of the spilled whiskey and the shattered television. "Sir!" she exclaimed, her voice tight with professional concern as she stopped before the wreckage. "Mr. Logan - is everything quite alright in here? I heard the crash from the hallway." Sebastian didn't look at her. He kept his eyes on the blood dripping from his palm onto the white floor. "Does it look like anything is alright, Sonia?”

Attempting to climb up once more the guards snatched me by the arms and moved back. When my screaming and fighting all went futile I resolved to plead. “Tell me what’s going on, please.” Ava moved out and whispered something to the one heading the wedding. “I'm sorry ma'am but you can't be here? The wedding must go on—-” I snapped, my anger having the best of me.

"She wants to humiliate you and tell the whole world you are a thief again. She wants to tarnish your reputation especially after you won the contest. That must be the reason she came to my book launch." "I thought the same." I nod. "I also think it's her way of bragging to me that she got the man. It's a little humiliating and painful to make a wedding dress for your ex-husband's bride. And that's exactly why she picked me. So what do you think I should do?" A small smile of mischief draws on her lips. "I think it's your time to take revenge for the diamond dress drama." She smirks. "Don't turn down the deal. Accept it delightfully."

*The charity gala began with the clinking of glasses and the buzz of polite conversation. Susanne was dressed in an elegant light blue gown, adorned with expensive jewelry worth millions, giving off an air of sophistication and grace. But I instantly recognized her necklace—it was an old piece, the same one she wore when she got married. Carol, on the other hand, was dressed in a perfectly tailored red gown, showing off half of her large chest, exuding a bold, radiant beauty. She clung to Hugh’s arm like a proud peacock, flaunting her charms for everyone to see. She whispered sweet nothings to every man who passed by, always on the hunt for new admirers.

Ray’s voice broke through the trance, warm and resonant with genuine relief. “To a long and happy marriage,” Garry added, lifting his glass in a sharp, celebratory gesture. Cassienne turned toward their friends, her smile widening into something brilliant. “Thank you,” she murmured. She was dressed in a gown of simple, liquid-white silk that clung to her silhouette with effortless grace. It wasn't the ornate masterpiece of a high-society gala, but it was perfect. Aurora had stepped in at the final hour, moving with a whirlwind of efficiency to ensure Cassienne looked every bit the cherished bride. The fabric flowed around her like a soft cloud, reflecting the newfound light in her eyes.

Not a glance, not a jab, not even the kind of annoyed sigh that at least told me I existed. Her dress was stunning—black silk with a gold lining that shimmered with each step, perfectly matching the gold-threaded handkerchief Catya had stuffed into my breast pocket. But Rebel didn’t look like she cared; she carried herself like a storm wrapped in satin about to recoil at any moment. I leaned toward her as we approached the entrance of the hall. “You know you look like you’re about to stab me in front of your whole family and invited guests, right? You can't stay mad at me forever.”

“I never doubted that.” ⸻ The Hale penthouse—no, the Cassian Hale penthouse—had been transformed into something grotesquely perfect. Champagne towers glittered like glass castles. Every socialite, investor, and gossip columnist within the city limits had crawled out for the spectacle. And in the center of it all stood Scarlett. Her gown was a shimmering rose gold that clung to her like ambition. One hand rested over her stomach—already performing for the crowd—and the other clutched Cassian’s arm possessively.

The same society that had scorned me the second Roland had turned his back on me. They would judge, and call me the names Anastasia had made the tabloid write immediately after the marriage. The Conrad family had only tolerated me because of Roland, but the second he had divorced me, Maya had dropped me like some discarded toy. My eyes hardened, my heart seething with anger. Tonight, they were going to be shocked. Noah Beck had reached out to the best designers in the country. My gown was an epitome of sophistication and regality. The perfect revenge dress for the perfect night. Like a Phoenix, I would arise from the ashes.

It’s a smile meant to hide the fire that’s building inside me, a slow, sharp kind of anger that burns colder with each passing day. A week before the wedding, a black car pulls into the driveway. Santino’s assistant steps out, holding a large white box. “For you, Miss Carter,” he says politely. “Mr. Blackwood asked that this be delivered personally.” My stomach tightens. I already know what’s inside. When I open the box, the sight takes my breath away. It’s a wedding dress. It's simple, elegant, and stunning. White silk and lace that look like they were spun by angels. Every detail is perfect. Every thread screams of luxury and power.