Novel & Cerita Revenge: A Love Story

"It's time to face our demons and make them pay for every tear we shed because of them." At that moment, determination burns stronger than ever. The night of the banquet approaches, and I am ready to confront Derya Arslan and the Arslan family, to expose their true nature, and to put an end to the oppression we have suffered for so long. Revenge is about to be fulfilled, and there will be no mercy for those who have hurt us. Justice will be served, and I will be the instrument that will carry it out. Enise approaches me and embraces me tightly, and I reciprocate the gesture, gently stroking her back. I can feel her gratitude and affection in that hug, and her words deeply move me.

"You made a mistake tonight, Mrs. Cole. Your grandfather made the same mistake, and your brother made the same mistake. They're both dead. You will be too." I typed back quickly, my fingers steady for the first time in weeks. "Then come and get me." A pause, then: "Oh, I will. But not tonight. Tonight, I want you to think about your baby, about the life you're risking, about whether revenge is really worth it." I looked at the message and smiled. "You killed my brother," I whispered to the empty car. "You killed my grandfather. You threatened my child. Revenge isn't the question, Mr. Vance, Justice is. And I'm going to make sure you get both."

“What exactly do you want, Isabella?” The answer came so easily to me. So clearly. The fire and rage inside me burned hotter than ever. I lifted my chin, my tears still wet on my face. I knew what I wanted. Exactly what I wanted. “Revenge.” The word broke through the silence like glass. The corner of Malakai's lips lifted ever so slightly, almost like he expected it. “Revenge is what I want

The man I once wloved. The man I defended. The man I once chose. Had mapped out our destruction. Still hurts like I didn't know he's evil. Tears gathered in my eyes. I wiped them away immediately. No. Not now. This wasn’t heartbreak. This was war. I opened the other files. Pictures. Men in suits. No names. No official charges. Just faces. “They’re involved,” I whispered. “But how?” I flipped to the medical report. Adrian — poisoned.

I said, ignoring what he said in the last part. He nodded immediately. "Yes. I want to clear everything." "You have five minutes." "Five minutes? That's such a short time to explain," he reasoned out. "Your father and I are busy. I just squeezed you into my schedule," I said as I leaned back on the couch. I saw how his eyes changed and how his shoulders fell. Something inside me stirred. Pity? Guilt? Maybe... love? No. It couldn't be. I want revenge, and I don't and will never fall in love with Francis ever again.

Serena sneered coldly, staring at the face she once loved so deeply. It had been love at first sight back then. But now, when she looked at him, her heart was calm—untouched, unshaken. The greatest sorrow is when the heart dies. The true opposite of love isn’t hate—it’s indifference. And that’s exactly what she felt for him now. No anger. No pain. Just silence. The Art of Revenge was never about rage—it was about letting go. She didn’t need to destroy them. Her joy was the masterpiece. And they would suffer, helplessly, watching her shine.

I was weighing my options like a judge weighing a verdict; her gaze rested upon me so heavily it felt like an actual physical force. As I stood there, the battle of desire and revenge ripped through my emotions, while Visha's hands traveled all over my body, her touch invoking spine-tingling memories of a winter's night frigid wind. The touching feeling at her fingertips traced over my skin, leaving behind a dramatic fire-like course as though wild flames went across a surface. "We can do both," she whispered into my ear hotly, and "we can make love and then plan our revenge." Like a match struck across a forest soaked in gasoline, that voice ignited the fuse. "We can do it," she said with a

His jaw tightened, and a muscle twitched in his cheek. He stared at the photo, his eyes searing, ready to explode any second. The easy-going demeanour he'd displayed earlier vanished, replaced by a hardened resolve. How could Matthew have done this? He had dreamt about this day every day for the past five years. The day he'd take revenge on the man who took his entire family away from him. He couldn't wait... he was going to— "I'm not handing him over." Adonis burst his bubble, his voice hard.

“When he watches this, when he hears your voice—he’ll burn the world to get to you. And that’s when the real story begins.” I started shaking, my whole body trembling so bad my teeth clattered. Tears blurred everything. I didn’t even know who I was crying for anymore—for Marco, for myself, for my mother, for that girl who thought she could be free. He came closer again, bent down, and whispered, almost gentle: “You were never born for love. You were born for revenge.” Something inside me broke then. Completely. Like glass underfoot. I stopped fighting the ropes. Stopped trying to scream. The words just stayed there, inside my head, echoing, twisting, turning. You were never born for love. Yo

Lovato would always remember the love he shared with his wife… their fiery and bloody love so beautiful that would be replayed for many years, then eventually down the timeline (but in a different way! While the rebelling mafia goons had been vanquished, the death of the Ruiz's family madam, Marisa had stained the victory that was to be celebrated. Slowly, the darkness in the city eventually dispersed and a sense of melancholy settled in. Lovato wiped his tears as clenched his teeth in a burning rage… "Whoever you're, I will get my revenge…. Even if I go down with you!" He roared into the stiff atmosphere, knowing that his wife's killer would still be around somewhere in the dark night.