Glamour And Sass: A Rejected Bride's Revenge Novels & Stories

It was a strapless, pure white, floor-length gown that exuded both sensuality and elegance. Most striking, William had also gotten her a fox-fur shawl. Dressed like this, she'd be more dazzling than a movie star. "I want you to be the most beautiful woman in Gleaston. That way nobody will think Susan is Ariana. At worst, they'll say they look a bit alike." William smiled and continued, "But this gown has a production cost. It's two million dollars. I'm sure Ms. Torrey can afford it." Ariana gritted her teeth. "You really are a shameless businessman!"

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.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw me. Not the broken bride. Not the pitied ex. But Clarissa. The woman. The fire. The damn storm. My dress was warpaint. A deep wine red satin that hugged every curve like it had been stitched to wreck havoc. Slit up to the thigh, neckline plunging like it was daring gravity to hold it in place. My heels screamed “Temptress”, and my matching lingerie? The lacy black set I had secretly splurged on for my wedding night that never happened, tags still on, untouched, unworn.

Clare Haistings gives me a hug, her sweet perfume filling up my nostrils. It makes me want to vomit. “Hey twin.are you enjoying the party?”she asks but doesn’t let me answer. “Everyone is enjoying themselves and the presents look really good, our guests really outdid themselves”she gushes. Her sparkly dress shimmers every time she moves. And the ruby red necklace she is doning looks amazing on top of her cleavage. She looks perfect.

Just the way she chopped the length of this dress, she minced away my emotions and devotion to fall in love. The bridal ensemble was a signature of aspiration, and I could see how Reile loaded me with the burden. Her freedom will be my suffocation. Her choices will be my suffering. My teary eyes just wanted to ask her why she pushed me into this fire of facade. But then I remember it’s the deal with these devils. If someone has an axe to grind, they do something for selfish reasons. Reile successfully made the replaced bride look worthy of the things that don’t belong to her.

The sky over Manhattan was a bruised purple, and Charlotte felt a heavy knot of anxiety tightening in her throat as she rode the elevator up to the forty-eight floor. Over the weekend, Ethan’s legal team had quietly finalized the initial wire transfer. Her mother’s medical bills in Chicago were completely paid off, wiped clean from the hospital's ledger. It was a miracle that should have brought her absolute peace, but as she stepped onto the polished marble floor of the executive suite, she knew the bill for that miracle was about to come due. On her left ring finger sat a delicate, platinum band holding a brilliant round-cut diamond. It wasn't ostentatious—she had refused the massive, flas

The flash of cameras hit me before the chauffeur even opened the car door. I stepped out of the black Bentley in a deep emerald-green satin dress that hugged my curves like it was made just for me. The high slit on my dress revealed just the right amount of skin I wanted and my matching heels clicked against the driveway of the Grand Royale Hotel like I owned the place. My hair flowed down my shoulders, and my makeup was subtle, powerful, perfect. Enough to remind the world I wasn’t the same girl who got cheated on.