Novel & Cerita The Taste Of Revenge

I pressed cigar ashes onto my palm. Did it hurt? Was Taryn hurt?

Revenge was a dish best served cold. Camilla didn’t agree. Revenge was a dish best served in the church with a fake pregnant test result and an astounding slap. To celebrate her successfully executed revenge, she was on a shopping spree today. The clothes she didn’t get the day Vanya interrupted her, she would get them today.

"It will greatly enhance the satisfaction of the time of devastation. It will let her realize that the worst thing she could have done was to stay alive." I lean in and allow the warmth of his body to support me. But here in this room we are aligned. We are unstoppable in this room. We are constructing something in this room that will destroy everything Damon has created. I shut my eyes and allow myself to savor the triumph that lies ahead. It has a power like flavor. It tastes like retaliation. It has the flavor of something coming to an end. And the beginning of something worse.

Revenge is a slow burn—a fire that starts deep in your gut and spreads until it consumes everything in its path. People warn against it, say it will rot you from the inside out. But they never talk about the rush. The satisfaction. The raw power of watching the people who wronged you crumble under the weight of their own sins. Darla never knew how intoxicating it could be—until tonight. She had seen the way their expressions twisted—first shock, then anger, then finally settling into pure hatred.

By the time I’m done with you, you’ll wish you had never touched my father. You’ll wish you had never been born. I took another sip of juice, legs crossed, feeling powerful for the first time in weeks. Revenge tasted so fucking sweet.

Half agony and the other half, extreme ecstasy. Over the sound of my own moans, I hear a strangled noise from the phone and angry mumbling before the call disconnects with a beep. As Rhysand begins to move with a deep powerful rhythm that I meet with equal force, one thought stays through it all: Revenge is best served drunk.

I cut him off, my voice low. He fell quiet. Because he knew I was right. He hadn’t felt life die inside him. He hadn’t read a report that spelled out the end of his ability to ever carry again. I picked up the spoon, my fingers trembling, but I didn’t look at Draven. I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want comfort. I would not be pitied. Despite the shaking, I forced the spoon into the bowl and brought it to my lips. It tasted like ashes, but I ate. Another spoonful. Then another. The food scraped down my throat like gravel. Because if I wanted revenge, then I had to be alive to do it.

Valentine I’m slowly coming to accept and believe that this evil plan to seek revenge is going to work. I’m moping around my office when all of a sudden, a vision of ecstasy began rolling inside my head. An act of sweet revenge and might just probably be the sweetest, seamlessly executed to perfection played like a film in the cinema. Perhaps, just like I did, Dominic won’t see this coming his way. I sat and turned my swivel chair around to face a mural of me hanging idly on the wall before finally fishing the list from my pocket. Although it’s looking a little bit rough from staying alive for several years, I don’t know if this is a blessing or a curse. For now, this list appeared to be a s

One weak girl was all it took. I taste freedom on her tongue. And it tastes like revenge.

PROLOGUE They say revenge is a dish best served cold. They’re wrong. Revenge is a nine-year plan executed in Louboutins and a smile that never reaches your eyes. It’s watching your ex-husband’s empire crumble while yours rises like a phoenix built from the ashes of every tear you cried alone. It’s standing in front of cameras with your son, the child they tried to steal from you, and watching the world finally see the truth. I got my revenge. I won.