Revenge X Storm Mga Nobela at Kwento

"Then I'm going to start from scratch. I'm going to build my way up and make sure I get my revenge. I'm not just going to sit around and wait for them to catch me again while nursing their betrayal." She sighed. "Fine. What are you planning to do?”

I also had to work very hard to get those mafias to spare my life. “Bastard, I will definitely kill you.” With that, Duane left with an angry face. I guess he's planning to get his revenge on me in the most painful way, so I have to leave the factory as soon as possible. At least in another area, he wouldn't dare kill people. But when Alva wasn't here, PSS wouldn't let me go anywhere else, so I tried to stay away from Duane, thinking that would make the hatred in his heart subside. But on the contrary, Duane thought I looked down on him, he almost killed me.

Quinton pressed at the faint red mark on the back of his hand and spoke in a pitiful tone, "Dr. Foster, I know you're upset about your hands. I only wanted to share the good news that I’d just published three papers in top journals, but you tried to hurt my hands instead?!" He had stolen my work in plain sight and won everyone's praise. As for me, I was already notorious. Voices of contempt and abuse rose all around me. Before I could say a word, Magnolia slapped me across the face. Then, she ground the heel of her shoe into the back of my hand. The pain nearly made me black out. "Quin never did anything to you! He's still thinking about you on his wedding day, and this is how you repay him?

“She’s not doing this out of competition, Barbra. It’s revenge. She’s coming for me and anyone connected to me.” Barbra’s silence deepened. “But why?” she whispered. “Why won’t she stop? What does she want from us?” Adam didn’t answer immediately. He knew what Celine wanted. Retribution. She wanted him to feel the same helplessness she once felt. He had seen it in her eyes that day in the conference room; that quiet fury wrapped in control. “I don’t know,” he said finally, though the weight of the truth pressed heavily on his chest.

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 say through clenched teeth, "she can’t have it." I step closer to him, watching him squirm. "I don’t care if it’s a decaying piece of land in Antarctica. If she wants it, it’s mine." He swallows, nods. The others do too. It’s what they’re paid to do: nod, agree, lie. She’s planning something. I can feel it. She’s not the type to forgive. And Marion Storm doesn’t play defense. She retaliates. With teeth. A knock slices through the tension.

Finally, he slammed the folder shut and shot to his feet. "Bastards! This is absolutely inhuman!" he roared. "How could they do this to their own daughter?" His eyes blazed with righteous anger. "That girl had more talent in her little finger than most healers have in their whole body! Alpha Blackthorne, you have my word. I'll help get justice for Ms. Blackwood!" He began pacing around the office like an enraged wolf. "I hereby announce that my pack is unilaterally terminating all partnerships with Moonlight Healing Studio!"

He was smiling still, shaking hands with men who would kill without blinking, but I saw it—the tightening of his jaw, the way his glass shifted in his grip. I sipped my drink slowly, deliberately, letting the stem of the glass linger between my fingers. Flirting back was easy—tilted smiles, half-laughs, leaning in just enough. I wasn’t here for these men, though. I was here for him. For the storm I was summoning in the depths of his chest. Every second I felt his anger coil tighter. Every moment I reveled in it. This wasn’t just a game. This was my revenge. My power play.

Each of them takes a turn like this is a ritual they have rehearsed. Ark goes first after Jaylen. His movements are precise, detached, like he is completing a task he does not want to think about. Spade follows, his anger raw and unfiltered, every strike heavy with betrayal. Blade is quieter, more controlled, his face unreadable as he adds his share of damage without emotion. Storm is last. She steps forward with a grin that makes Diana’s stomach twist. She flourishes the knife, mocking, theatrical. When she pulls back, the floor beneath the chair is dark and slick. Storm bows slightly, exaggerated and mocking.

As he walked out into the night, he didn't look like a savior—he looked like a conqueror reclaiming his prize. Liam lay gasping for air on the floor, the taste of blood in his mouth. He had lost the girl, he had lost the fight, and now he was realizing that Xavier Grayson wasn't just a rival—he was a storm that would swallow anyone in Chloe's past. Will Liam retreat, or will this humiliation drive him to team up with Arthur Bishop for a final revenge?