The Revenge Of Seven Book นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Why is it so hard for normal people to even defend themselves? [I know right! When she threatened her to stop the stream, I thought it would end like this!] [Just because they’ve got a little cash, they think they’re untouchable!] Seeing the wave of indignation, Mira shifted gears to show her true intent—making money. “There are already a hundred and fifty thousand of you here with me. If each of you could donate something to me, it would give me the strength to keep fighting these corrupt elites!” However, no matter how desperately she pleaded, not a single cent came through.

And plenty of time to regret it. This was the perfect revenge I had prepared for all of them.

"It's your fault! It's all your fault!" "What? It's obviously your fault! I was on Mr. Leeds' side! You're the one who convinced me to believe Yves, saying that his major was in Food Safety, so he's smarter and more trustworthy than Mr. Leeds! Look what happened! I was the one who was tricked!" "Don't even mention that asshole Yves! He's probably hiding with his parents somewhere!" "If I ever catch him, I won't let him off the hook!" Amidst their angry shouts, Steve, who had once been saved by me but then betrayed me, suddenly dropped to his knees.

remembering the night I spent alone, nursing a newborn, laboring alone and heartbroken while my best friend and husband were fucking. ‎ ‎Indeed revenge was a dish best served cold. ‎ ‎But the real revenge was just beginning. ‎ ‎And the best part? ‎ ‎I hadn't told him about our son yet. ‎ ‎That was coming. ‎ ‎That was going to be the final, devastating blow. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Oh, Marcus, I thought, watching his car, disappear into the city’s flow. You have no idea what hell is. Because you just stepped into one. ‎ ‎

There were people like this in the world,people who did the right thing quietly, without applause, simply because they could not bring themselves to do otherwise. I had not known enough of them in my first life. "Thank you," I said, and I meant it. Mr. Walter blinked, as though genuine gratitude from Vivian Salvatore was something he had not been expecting. He recovered quickly from the shock. "What would you like to do?" I looked at the tablet in my hand. At the financial reports, the board meeting minutes, the quiet record of three months of theft conducted by men who had been certain that the woman in the coma was not coming back.

“I will make you taste tears of blood, dear devil.” Finn’s wolf stirred, roaring inside him as he leaned in, voice dropping to a growl. “You have seven days to enact your revenge. Do whatever you can with me… and I will do whatever I want with you,” he whispered, sliding his hands slowly between her thighs, sending a pulse of heat through her entire body. He pressed closer, wings brushing her sides, lips grazing hers as his words sank in like fire. “But if you fail… on the seventh day, I claim not only your soul, but you.”

“Seth has ties to the mafia. He’s a part of that life. He might be dangerous, and if he finds out that I am deceiving him, what will happen to me?” “This changes nothing, Ivy. I have told you time and time again that by choosing to take revenge against the people who hurt our family, you are choosing to put your life in danger. Whether you like it or not, this is what you’re subscribed to, and I’m not going to let you stop.” “But—” “Remember that I am more dangerous than that man. I can do worse than he will do to you, and you know this. This retribution has been a long time coming, and I would be damned if I allowed your fear to get in the way.”

Chapter 7: Revenge is a dish best served cold In this part of my story, I made a decision that was fueled by hatred and the spirit of revenge. I'll admit, I'm not proud of what I did—or maybe I am. After all, Penelope and her gang had it coming. They deserved every ounce of the retribution I served up to them on a silver platter. And sure, some might argue that my actions were extreme, but compared to the years of torment and anguish they had inflicted upon me, it was nothing short of poetic justice.