Novel & Cerita Myex Revenge

Elegant, polished, her long silky hair cascading over one shoulder and her sharp eyes gleaming with malicious delight. The same woman who had called me useless, who had kissed my husband—my ex-husband—right in front of me while I lay broken on the floor. The same woman who had taken everything from me now stood in the place I had just been dragged into. My stomach twisted violently. The nausea I had been fighting since the mall surged again, mixing with pure humiliation. My legs trembled. If Drake hadn’t been holding me, I would have collapsed. Jackson’s gaze locked on mine. For a split second, something like regret flashed across his face, but it was gone too fast. Chloe’s lips curved into

He knows the mistake he made. “Felicity has nothing to do with this. Don’t turn this back on me. You are the one fucking your brother’s ex-wife.” He snarls, glaring at me. Oh, if looks could kill, I would be a dead man. I stand, and we are face-to-face, only my solid oak desk between us.

I wonder sadly. Max I walk to the elevator, got in, and press the button for the ground floor. Today was a good day, the 1991 Tax Prep, finally punching that asshole ex of mine in the face. I can’t believe after eight years I finally got revenge on that asshole for cheating on me. I smile, thinking of the punches I landed in his jaw.

I stood up and looked for my bag before I answered him. "Don't come near me! You're disgusted by me, right? You're tired of me, that's why you don't want to anymore." I saw him confused because of what I said. "You know? You know Mr. Sullivaño, I regret meeting you my whole life. My whole life. If I had one wish now? I wish we never crossed paths again." I said, then turned around to leave his power. Because no matter what I do, I remember the past, how I fought alone because of what he did to me. He doesn't want me anymore because I'm like garbage, something to throw away."

Remember Max is the main antagonist I am sure you must know it already. Do follow me on I*******m it's mirah_selim. Till the next adios

PROLOGUE They say revenge is a dish best served cold. They’re wrong. Revenge is a nine-year plan executed in Louboutins and a smile that never reaches your eyes. It’s watching your ex-husband’s empire crumble while yours rises like a phoenix built from the ashes of every tear you cried alone. It’s standing in front of cameras with your son, the child they tried to steal from you, and watching the world finally see the truth. I got my revenge. I won.

“Well, I like this new Mira. And you know what? I’ll bring friends—old friends. The kind of people Aaron would hate to see at your party.” I tilted my head. “Oh? Do tell.” He grinned. “Let’s just say some of us have been waiting for the day you woke up and remembered who the hell you are.” I laughed. “Then I guess it’s time for a reunion.” Michael extended his hand, and I shook it. “To new beginnings,” he said. “To revenge,” I corrected. He chuckled. “Even better.” As I left Michael’s penthouse, I felt a sense of excitement brewing inside me. The game was only just beginning, and I was ready to play.

He stepped toward the edge of the podium, leaning in slightly so he was just a few feet away from me. And then, he smirked. “I think you were already pregnant with my child the night of the divorce, and then somehow, you sought my brother out. The same brother who never gave a shit about this company. You fucking sought him out and this is some sort of fucking revenge plan you have—” Sebastian didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Maverick’s fist connected with his jaw so fast, I didn’t even register the motion until I heard the crack. Maverick fisted Sebastian’s collar, dragging him down from the podium as he landed another punch on his face.

Just the small, functional gesture of a woman who had been caught off guard by the size of a feeling. I looked at her over her son's head and I thought about the file. About the column with his mother's name in it. About the plan I had walked into a cemetery with some months ago, the clean, tactical architecture of a revenge that had seemed, at the time, not only justified but necessary. I had wanted to dismantle the Frostbane name. I had also wanted Kieran Blackthorne to understand what it felt like to lose something he could not replace with money or power or the particular brand of controlled, acquisitive certainty he had mistaken for strength.

Which makes me trust him less, not more. The problem is my body doesn't care about trust. When I saw his name on that envelope, my pulse jumped. When I read his words, my chest cracked open. The same thing that cracked open five years ago and nearly destroyed me. I won't make that mistake again. This is about revenge. About making him feel what I felt. About watching him realize too late that some things, once broken, can't be fixed. He wants witnesses to his redemption or destruction. Fine. I drop my pen, staring at my own words until the ink begins to blur.