Perfect Revenge Book Novels & Stories

“You destroyed his life. You can’t even bear to hear his last words? “You know what? I could have killed you on the first day, but I didn’t. “Killing you then would have been too easy a punishment. “I wanted you to watch your empire crumble as your lover went insane. I wanted to crush your pride to dust! “I wanted you to rot in fear and regret.” Moon stared at me. Her gaze shifted from madness to pure terror. “You… you’re not human! You’re a demon!” “Yes.” I smiled. “I’m the demon who crawled out of hell just to ruin you.”

My brows rose in confusion as she stretched an old book towards me, "The laundry maid gave it to me, she said she found it in the laundry room. I believe it contains something that is connected to you," I took the book from her, confusion etched on my face as I examined its exterior outlook, "I tried going through it but I barely understood what was written in it. I think you should have a look, you might be able to understand it," she added. I flipped the book open and as my eyes skimmed through the pages, I couldn't help the shock that registered on my face. My insides began to burn with rage, and the more I looked into the book, the more I wanted to skin all the people whose names were me

“Now this boils down to the question Sophia asked you back at the café. How about you make your own choice? Those people have treated you wrongly, and you know it. They need to pay, and you can do something about that.” I rested back in my chair and crossed my legs, the motion casual, the body language of a man who’d rehearsed this delivery. Her face changed, the calculation was visible now, a map of the gears turning behind her eyes. That particular look told me I’d struck the right nerve: pain softened by opportunity, anger polished by the scent of revenge. All I needed now was a few seconds. Let her debate quietly with herself; let the hatred bloom so bright it eclipses any rational fear.

I snap, storming toward my room and grabbing the small notebook I found last night—the one where I jotted down formulas that kept haunting my thoughts, along with a few I’d crafted specifically for Oliver. When I return to the living room, he’s still sitting, as if rooted to the spot. I toss the notebook onto his lap. The gesture leaves him speechless. “There. Enough perfume formulas to get your revenge on Oliver. And I’ll even give you the name of the man who betrayed you.” “That’s not necessary,” he mutters, finally standing. “Yes, it is. That way, we’re done. His name is Leroy. Satisfied now? Do you think maybe, just maybe, you can stop hurting me like Oliver did? Or do you believe I have

All I felt was a burning rage,I gripped the sheet so tight,tears streaming uncontrollably. When he saw the sweat on my brow and my pale face,he recognized that something was wrong. "Sandra, are you okay,what's wrong?" What have I done to deserve this torment from him and Annabel?. Now ,I was like a vengeful spirit, determined to make them pay dearly. Annabel knew that Michael wouldn't listen to me, rather he will pay more attention to anything Annabel said,wish gave her more confidence to repeatedly hurt me.i was all too familiar with their tactics.I knew

“Victor isn’t helping Dante out of loyalty.” The old man’s gaze fell on Mr. Blackwood’s old photograph sitting in the corner of the desk. “He wants revenge on the Blackwood family through Dante.” And that was far more dangerous than merely a desperate man who had lost his ex-wife. Because now— someone was deliberately pushing Dante deeper into destruction. Peter immediately grabbed his phone and called Darius. The call connected a few seconds later. “I found the person helping Dante,” Peter said without preamble. Darius’s expression immediately sharpened. “Who?”

- D’ Damon. I typed back quickly. ‘Thank you. I will.’ His response came immediately. ‘They deserve what’s coming. Make it count.’ I set the phone down and looked at the evidence spread across my bed. Oh, I would make it count. I would make them both regret ever crossing me. The first phase of my revenge was about to begin

His name is Sébastien, he is thirty-nine years old, he is married, he has two children, he works in a small business in the city, he earns a living, he pays his taxes, he lives his life, he tries to be happy, to forget, not to think about what he did, what he didn't do, what he should have done, and today, he is in my office, he is sitting across from me, his hands are trembling, his eyes are darting away, his voice is cracking, and he tells me, he begs me, he asks me not to do to him what I did to the others, not to destroy him, not to annihilate him, not to take everything he has, everything he built, everything he loves, everything he has left, because he wasn't like the others, because h

he laughed. "I needed to see how she was after my fake confession... she'll be here, and she won't be long." Carlos was confident that Ana would accept him, and when the time came, he would wish he had died in that accident. "I just hope you don't regret it, buddy," Marcos knew convincing Carlos to give up that revenge would be a lost battle, but he couldn't help voicing his thoughts on the matter. "I'll regret letting her be happy while Lisa never had that chance. I'll regret allowing her to start a family while she stole mine. I'll make her life a living hell to the point where she'll wish for her own death."

"Shut your mouth, Michael." Michael merely pouted, his gaze flitting to me, and I caught a glimpse of what seemed like a spark of disappointment in his eyes. I wondered then if he was upset that I hadn't been able to escape last night, after he had risked so much to help me. But as I watched Blackwood’s squirm under the old man's judgment, I couldn't bring myself to feel remorse. This was the revenge I had craved, and it was worth every bit of the pain and humiliation I had endured. The tables had turned, and now it was my turn to bask in the glory of my triumph.