Revenge Or Love Novels & Stories

"You must be thinking what kind of father would want a man who wronged his daughter to be with her. All I should do is hate you, right?" "You are wrong to have channeled the hatred you have for Georgia and Smith to her, but it's revenge. Revenge can make people do the unthinkable, I understand. When it comes to Ixora, she's my everything. I've seen how deep your love for her is, and I have no doubt in my chest that you will be able to keep her happy. You've grown past your revenge, and that is what matters," he drew in a deep breath. "The heart chooses who it wants. That is something we can't change."

While swirling dust and clashing knives, their eyes met, and a silent promise was exchanged. As the enemies closed in, Stuart spun gracefully, his knife cutting through the air with deadly precision. Beside him, Christi twirled, her movements a symphony of grace and strength. In the heat of battle, their fingers brushed, a fleeting connection that sent sparks through them. A formidable foe approached a dark figure with malice in their eyes. Both locked eyes, a silent communication passing between them. Without words, they dove into the fight, each covering the other's back. Their knives moved in harmony, a dance that spoke of shared purpose and unspoken feelings.

she answered, still wiping the frame. “But it's just a photo,” I said bitterly. Mama's hand stiffened and she looked up at me. “It's not just a photo, Vittoria. It's a memory.” I shook my head at her, crossing my arms on my chest. “If you say so. But wiping his photo won't make the people who killed him suffer.” She carefully placed the photo back on the table. “Revenge won't bring him back Vittoria.” She replied gently, her voice barely above a whisper.

Revenge. The news of Salvora’s death had reached him weeks ago, and though he had barely blinked at the thought of his reckless, troublesome niece meeting an untimely end, there was something irresistible about the idea of avenging her, something almost poetic about using her as an excuse to start a war, something deeply satisfying about the idea of sinking his teeth back into the world of drugs, blood, and power with the full force of a man who had nothing left to lose. Because the truth was, he hadn’t loved Salvora. Had never really cared whether she lived or died, won or lost, ruled or crumbled under her own arrogance.

“Grief distorts. It narrows the world until all you can see is the wound. But wounds are not the whole truth.” Her eyes glistened slightly now. And for the first time in the recording, Damon saw how tired she really was. “I know you, Damon. You will want revenge because revenge feels cleaner than helplessness. Simpler. More satisfying.” She shook her head. “But revenge is what men like Matteo understand.” A beat. “What they do not understand…” She inhaled carefully. “…is love.” Damon shut his eyes. His mother smiled sadly. “If there is still someone in your life worth protecting when you find this protect them.”

In a fit of rage, she grabbed a kitchen knife and ended their lives, ultimately receiving a prison sentence. The baby was brought to me. I didn’t keep him. After all, this child was theoretically the offspring of mine and Felicity’s enemies. I’m no saint. I sent him straight to an orphanage and never intervened again. Then one night, I dreamt of Felicity. Turns out her spirit had never left. Only after I completed my revenge was she able to rest. She expressed profound gratitude for my vengeance. My eyes welled with tears as I whispered sincerely, “It should be me thanking you for giving me the chance to live again.”

“I’m not doing this so you can thank me. I’m doing this out of love. And I don’t need anything in return.” His voice deepened. “All I want is for you to get everything they ever took from you. For you to be happy. For you to get your revenge. And for them to be miserable. Penniless. Out on the streets. With nothing.” There was venom in his voice. Pure and sharp. It startled me....and thrilled me. “Hey,” I murmured, touched and slightly breathless. The way he spoke about Ryan and his family... the hatred in his voice, the protectiveness—it was overwhelming.

I told him. "But you're holding a grude on your mom." Dad told me. "Leticia loves you, and everything she did, she had the same motive as I've always had: of avoiding a time in life as such. A time when our reputation is so stripped that we no longer mean anything. Just people that no one wants to be connected to. The same way you understand Dan's motive for dating your sister, understand your mother's motive for sending Rissa to an orphanage. It doesn't matter how deep the err is, look at the motive and forgive. Dan is right."

And why did Adrian seek revenge with such ferocity? My gaze moves to Adrian, studying his features. His dark hair falls across his forehead, framing his chiseled face. His grey eyes seem to bore into my soul, cold and unforgiving. I search for any hint of emotion, any glimmer of humanity, but find none. He's like a statue, a monument to vengeance. I wonder if Adrian's eyes have always been so cold, or if they once held warmth and kindness. Did my father's actions extinguish that spark, leaving only a burning rage in its place? The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

“I want to cherish every moment, mentioning his name again would spoil things.” I could sense it. His words proved that there was something going on. It doesn't matter if he didn't tell me the reasons for his displeasure to his friend as long as I can use it in my favour. I need more men on my side, it would be more thrilling if he felt what betrayal was like. “I would do anything to avenge the death of my father too. I want to end it all and leave here,” I said,