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

I stepped over the threshold. I was no longer the weeping, discarded wife who had been locked out of her own townhouse just a week ago. I was sovereign. I wore a bespoke, floor – length gown of deep, midnight emerald silk – a subtle, vicious nod to the necklace Krista had stolen from me. The dress was cut with a plunging neckline and structured, razor – sharp shoulders that made me look both impossibly glamorous and violently dangerous. The bruises from the island had faded into faint, golden shadows, completely eclipsed by the terrifying, radiant confidence pouring from my every pore.

## Chapter 2: The Gilded Cage The silk of the wedding gown felt heavy, cold, and entirely foreign against Vivian’s skin. Standing in front of the full-length mirror in the bride's private suite, she stared at a stranger. The styling team her Uncle Richard hired had spent five grueling hours transforming her. Her long, dark hair was pinned up into an intricate, flawless chignon, and her face was meticulously painted to mimic Valerie’s sharp, haughty glamour. The heavy diamond necklace resting against her collarbone felt less like luxury and more like a shackle.

Imagined. Then her eyes snapped open. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “That’s not a dress. That’s a declaration.” She grabbed my shoulders, careful of the sling, and beamed at me like I’d just handed her the greatest gift of her life. “A black princess gown at a mafia wedding,” she said breathlessly. “With weapons hidden in the skirt? That’s not rebellion. That’s artistry.” Her grin turned feral. “I am completely and utterly obsessed with you.”

And look the part I did. By the time I made my way downstairs, dressed in the rich Swiss lace attire his tailor had made for me in the early days of my arrival, bedecked in the heavy white and yellow gold jewellery set he had also gifted me, and with my face painstakingly made up in hues of gold and red, I knew that whatever role he wanted me to play, I would pass with flying colours. But the old man didn’t even give me a second look. “Assalemị,” I greeted, with a slight curtsy.

Married to My Enemy Chapter 3: Controlled in Public The black silk gown Alessandro had chosen for me clung to every curve like a second skin. It was elegant enough for the high-society gala — floor-length with a daring slit up one thigh and a plunging neckline that showed off the diamond necklace he had locked around my throat — but I knew its true purpose. It gave him easy access. I stood beside him in the crowded ballroom, champagne flute in hand, smiling politely at the same people whose families had been trying to destroy mine for years. Alessandro’s hand rested possessively on my lower back, his thumb stroking the exposed skin there.

I felt… like me. I was halfway through a strawberry tart when a sharp, sugary voice cut through the air behind me. “Well, well. So it’s true. The mysterious bride does exist.” I turned slowly, tart still between my fingers, and came face-to-face with a woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a couture magazine. Her gown shimmered in champagne gold, her diamonds screamed look at me, and her smile was sharper than her stilettos. “You must be Kimani,” she said, eyes raking over me with thinly veiled disdain. “How… quaint.”

Luckily, I'm very skilled with makeup, so I was able to do my own, and Tamara had helped me to style my hair in a sexy updo a few hours ago. Once I am done applying my red lipstick, I close the tube and admire how the color accents my skin. Now all that's left is to put on the dress. Rebecca had helped me lay it out on my bed earlier. She and Tamara are also coming to the party, so they'll have a front row seat for what I have in store for Jacob. I smile as I look at the dress. Jacob is absolutely going to hate it. It's a sleeveless, nude tulle gown with black flowers, sequins, applique, and a deep V-neck. The back is also open in the same style as the front, with a slit on the side exposing

"Fuck you, Angelo! Fuck you and your accusations! You have no right to question me! Not after what you did! At least you didn’t catch me in our matrimonial bed fucking your uncle” His face darkened. "So this is your revenge? Fucking my family to get back at me?" A cold smile twisted my lips. "This?" I gestured to my wedding dress. "This is just the beginning. You and Bella will pay for what you did to me. I'll ruin you both." Angelo's expression changed his anger fading away, replaced by something else something like...fear. Good. Let him be afraid. Let him suffer like I suffered, he’d taste something even more bitter and painful than I did.

You all...I died a broken bride and I woke up a vengeful queen eight months in the past. I won't make such mistake again. ​Fidelia Crawford was the perfect pawn. She trusted her "step father" Derek, loved her fiancé Silas, and adored her stepsister Bridget. Well that foolish trust cost her everything. On her wedding night, she found Silas and Bridget in the ultimate betrayal, having a hot steamy sex. When she tried to flee, they didn't just let her go—they left her for dead on a cold marble floor. ​But the universe offered Fidelia a miracle: she woke up eight months before her murder. ​Now, the "innocent heiress" is gone. In her place is a woman with the skills of a master hac