Novel & Cerita Revenge Forged In Prison

Within those two years, with Ethan's help, I had undergone plastic surgery, transforming my body into perfection. The process was painful. I cried. I had wished I died instead. I loathed Ethan for making me pass through pain. I even begged him to kill me at some point. But now standing here with the red sundress on my body hugging me in all the right places, the pain was worth it. I looked like a model that men would actually kill to have. And there was only one thing left. Revenge. The bedroom door opened, and I stepped out of the bathroom in my red-bottom heels, a small smile on my face. Ethan gave me a once-over and smiled in satisfaction as he took my hand, placing a soft kiss on it.

The fact that he had escaped from prison only made him a more useful ally, someone who knew what it meant to be wronged and was willing to fight back in any way necessary. Marlon’s gaze was cold but unwavering, his expression one of steely resolve. He had his own reasons for wanting revenge. He had lived in a hell of his own making, imprisoned by the very family Victoria despised, and every day in that prison had been a reminder of his lost years, his ruined life. When he spoke, his voice was low and menacing, a growl that seemed to rise from the depths of his soul.

And not when I discovered something else. This wasn't all about grief. This was about rage. Rebel wasn't just broken. She was sharpening herself into an instrument of revenge. And someone would pay.

The cold. If it hurts enough, Anwen will feel me. He’ll know. And he’ll free me from this Goddess-damned ice so I can tear Floyd Winters limb from limb, as he deserves. That’s what Floyd missed. I grind the tender flesh of my ankles against the jagged edge of my prison. “You’re barely fucking civilized!” Floyd yells. “I’m doing the world a favor, putting you down like a fucking dog.” He advances on me with the dagger out, and my heart leaps into my throat. Rage will not save me. Fury, revenge—they only lead to standing in front of a woman who wanted nothing more than to save her father’s life with a dagger.

"They're not. You cheated on Jane with her best friend just minutes before your wedding. You emotionally abused her for months, tearing down her self-esteem piece by piece until she believed she was worthless without you. You tried to blackmail her with a baby that wasn't yours. You hired someone to commit violence against your own family, to hurt a child who had done nothing except exist. A child who happens to be your half-brother. Your blood! You did those things, Hudson. Not Jane or Julius. You." "I was angry," I said, and I hated how weak my voice sounded. "I was hurt. They took everything from me." "So what?" Dr. Reeves leaned forward, and there was something fierce in her expression n

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.

That was supposed to help me rebuild everything I had lost because I was stupid enough to let jealousy and anger control my actions. I had been released three months early for good behavior, which was ironic since I had spent most of my time in prison planning revenge against the woman who had put me there. But I had learned to keep those thoughts to myself and play the role of a reformed criminal who was ready to rejoin society. The truth was much darker. Eighteen months of sleeping on a narrow cot, eating terrible food, and being surrounded by women who had also lost everything had only made my hatred for Vanya stronger. Every night, I had fallen asleep thinking about ways to make her pay

The same love I kept on denying and calling it friendship and pushed him away? Theo looked at him with patient eyes, waiting for me to speak up.. When I didn't, he just held me tighter.. I sighed feeling his warmth.. We'll see what happens next.. But I can't lie to him and hurt him anymore.. "I am reborned.. I know it sounds crazy but it's true.. " I felt him stop breathing for a moment before kissed the back of my head for me to continue.. "I already lived my life and saw my tragic end.. And also saw the people who caused it.. I was too naive to not see through their intentions.. But this time, I won't be this naive.. I'll take revenge from them.. I'll make them pay heavily.. "

I sit on the narrow cot, its thin mattress creaking under my weight, the scratchy jumpsuit a mockery of the tailored suits I once wore as head of Anderson Enterprises. My hands clench, nails biting into my palms, not with regret anymore, but with a burning need for revenge. Sophia and Julian are out there, hidden, their whereabouts a void even Daniel’s network can’t pierce. They think they’ve won, slipped free of my grasp, but they’re wrong. Sophia was mine,my wife, my prize and Julian stole her, unraveling my world. In this cage, with my trial looming and my lies exposed by Asher’s evidence, I’m not broken. I’m plotting, my mind a forge, hammering out a plan to make them pay.

While the desire for vengeance still simmered beneath the surface, he learned to channel that energy into advocacy—organizing community forums, raising awareness about the injustices faced by families like his, and empowering others to join the fight for truth and accountability. Through this process, Alex discovered a profound truth: that while the quest for revenge could be intoxicating, the path of healing and justice was far more fulfilling. By focusing on collective action and solidarity, he not only honored his parents’ legacy but also forged deeper connections with those who stood by him. Revenge, he realized, was a solitary endeavor that ultimately led to isolation; justice, on the o