Novel & Cerita Wife's Revenge Chinese Drama

He crossed the room in three smooth steps and knelt in front of me, his hand resting gently—but commandingly—on mine. “Elena Moretti may be dead,” he said. “But Sierra De Luca is about to rise. To rise from the ashes of Elena. And if revenge is what you seek…” I met his eyes, steady and burning. “…then vengeance is what you shall have.” I nodded once. Fierce. Unshaken. “I want it all,” I whispered. “Every damn piece of them.”

A woman with a second chance. A woman who had finally taken her life back.

She took a few sets forward, and that was when I recalled her face— Player 61. The woman who had killed her husband. “I saw you inside,” she said softly, approaching me. “You looked like you were about to collapse.” I straightened slowly. “You too.” I wasn't scared of her, infact she was a legend as fact as revenge was concerned. A humorless smile touched her lips. “You saw that? I thought no one cared." “Actually I think they care too much for comfort," I encouraged. “I mean who doesn't like drama."

I cleared my throat and smiled. “Nothing much. I heard that she is your ex-wife who looks exactly like me. Given how your sister reacted, you might have a past issue with her. Would that be a problem for the both of us?” It would certainly be a problem for me, but I had to hide it. I wouldn’t be able to get my revenge if I were not close to him and his family. I wouldn’t know who was driving the car that night. “My wife, Jane Moore had been reported dead for two years now…”

Long after he’d fallen asleep beside me in our bed, his arm draped loosely, comfortably, across my waist, I lay awake, staring out at the city lights, no longer a symbol of threat or confinement, but a horizon of endless possibilities. The Ex-Wife Seeks Revenge. The phrase, once a bitter, defining label, now felt… distant. Almost irrelevant. My revenge hadn't been about destruction. It hadn't been about tearing down those who had wronged me. It had been about rebuilding. About reclaiming my life, my power, my identity. It had been about choosing to heal, to grow, to find strength in the face of betrayal, in the face of fear. My revenge was Isabella’s laughter, AJ’s sturdy embrace, the way th

"No, baby. I don't know her. Who are you, Sister?" "SiStEr? I'm your wife, Xi Song." Grabbing his other collar, the girl yelled. "You're married already?" "No, baby. Trust me, this girl is lying." Seeing him in this condition, Xi Song grabbed Xingyue from behind and pulled her back. Keeping a hold on her, he bowed to them. "I'm sorry. My wife is drunk today." "Control your wife. She can break other's relationships." Bowing once again, he apologized.

Still hearing those unexpected words. "Oh no, she's my wife."

Her world crumbled right before her eyes. She immediately imagined herself pulling that woman’s hair and strangling her neck. She wanted to confront her and ask her why she would do that to her husband. Ask her where did she find the audacity to steal a married man. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and cry like no one was around. In reality, her self-worth was gone even when she remained composed. She wanted to put all the blame on the woman when her husband seemed to equally enjoy the ass that was on his lap. She could not even bring herself to defend Jack. He willingly kissed and did even more with another woman.

In her elegant bridesmaid’s gown, her hair and makeup flawless, she could have been any of Chelsea’s manicured clones, but the spark in her eyes set her apart. I made the mistake of asking Chelsea who she was the next day, setting my wife off on one of her jealous rants. I never mentioned Jessica again and did my best to stay away from all of Chelsea’s friends. I needed my reputation to remain spotless if my plan was going to work. Now, finally, it has. My wife fucked up, I have the proof, and I will finally be free. Free to return to my single life and free to fuck anyone I want, including Jessica Williams.