He Found My Secret Revenge
Faith Neal had vanished, burying her powerful past under layers of anonymity as an ER doctor. She was secretly dismantling the empire of the man she'd left behind, brick by costly brick, from the shadows. Until he walked into her trauma room, bleeding from a bullet wound, shattering her carefully built world with a single, dangerous glance.
Her heart hammered: Earl Hampton, the ruthless CEO she abandoned, was on the gurney, demanding only "Faith."
His presence shattered her new life. He accused her of running, his touch a possessive reminder. Soon after, old rivals Chad Miller and Tiffany Vance ambushed her, humiliating her, sparking a fight.
Panic and anger flared as Chad mocked her, calling her a "bitch." Shame burned, but a deeper fear gripped her – the architect of her revenge was bleeding in her ER, and he knew.
Before Chad could inflict more harm, Earl reappeared, violently intervening.
"I'm the man who's going to reclaim his assets," he rumbled. "I found you. I'm not losing you again."
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Chapter 5
The street was dark. The streetlights here were yellow and dim, casting long, skeletal shadows against the brick walls of the warehouses.
Faith walked fast, her keys clutched between her knuckles-a pathetic weapon, but the only one she had.
She heard footsteps behind her.
She sped up.
The footsteps sped up. Heavy boots. Professional gait.
Faith's heart hammered against her ribs. She turned the corner toward the bus stop, hoping to see people.
It was empty.
A figure stepped out from the alleyway ahead of her, blocking her path.
"Miss Neal."
The voice was smooth, mechanical.
Not a drug dealer. A professional.
He stepped into the light. He looked generic. Grey suit, earpiece, dead eyes.
"Who are you?" Faith said, her voice trembling.
"Mr. Black sent me," the man said. Black was the Head of Security for the rival faction on the Board. "He wants the encryption keys for the logistics override. And the location of the asset."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"We know you're Oracle," the man spat, stepping closer. "And we know about the boy. Give us the keys, and maybe we leave the kid alone."
"You stay away from him!" Faith backed away, but she bumped into the brick wall. Trapped.
The man's face twisted. The desperation took over. "I'm not asking, Miss Neal."
He pulled a knife from his pocket. A military-grade tactical blade. Click. The blade glinted in the dim light.
Faith stopped breathing.
"Give me your phone," he demanded. "Unlock it. Transfer the data. Now."
"Please. I can't."
"DO IT!" he screamed, lunging forward. He grabbed her hoodie, slamming her against the bricks.
Faith cried out as her head hit the wall. The knife was inches from her face.
"I'll cut you," he hissed. "I swear to God, Faith, I'll cut that pretty face and see if Hampton wants you then."
Faith squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain. This is it. This is my life.
Thwack.
A sound like a rock hitting a melon.
The man screamed.
The weight on her chest vanished.
Faith opened her eyes.
The mercenary was on the ground, clutching his hand. The knife lay in the gutter.
Earl stood over him.
He hadn't made a sound. He had moved like a ghost.
Earl didn't look at Faith. He was focused entirely on the attacker. He reached down, grabbed him by the collar of his suit jacket, and hauled him to his feet with one hand.
"Who are you?" the man shrieked, swinging a wild punch.
Earl caught the fist. He twisted.
Crack.
The man howled, his knees buckling. Earl didn't let him fall. He slammed him against the wall, pinning him there with a forearm across the throat.
"Listen to me," Earl said. His voice was terrifyingly calm. No anger. Just cold, hard facts. "Tell Black that if he sends another contractor... If I ever see your shadow within a mile of her..."
He leaned in close.
"I will dismantle his entire division. And I will bury you in it."
The man gurgled, clawing at Earl's arm. His eyes were bulging with terror. He nodded frantically.
Earl stepped back. He dropped him.
"Run," Earl said.
The mercenary didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled up, cradling his broken wrist, and sprinted into the darkness, sobbing.
Silence returned to the street.
Faith slid down the wall, her legs giving out.
Earl was there instantly. He knelt in front of her. The monster who had just broken a man's arm vanished. His hands were gentle as he cupped her face.
"Faith," he said. "Look at me. Are you hurt?"
Faith shook her head. She couldn't speak. The adrenaline was crashing, leaving her shaking violently.
"He... he had a knife... He knew about Oracle... He knew about..."
"I know. It's gone. He's gone."
"The Board will come back. They always come back."
"No," Earl said firmly. "They won't. I promise."
He pulled her into his arms. He smelled of leather and safety. Faith buried her face in his chest, clutching his shirt.
"I tried to tell you," she sobbed. "I'm a liability."
Earl wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the dirty pavement as if she weighed nothing. He held her tight, rocking her slightly. He winced slightly as his injured leg took the weight, but he didn't falter.
"You're not a liability," he whispered into her hair. "You're mine."
He pulled back slightly, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
"Come home with me, Faith. Let me do my job. Let me protect you. And let me meet my son."
Faith looked at him. She looked at the dark alley where the threat had disappeared. She looked at the man who had walked through fire to find her.
She was done running. She needed a partner. She needed a Crisis Manager of her own.
"Okay," she whispered. "Take me home."
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8.1
"I don't share my women, Adele. Breeder or not. Go on your knees." He instructed, his hands going to unbuckle his trousers.
My heart burned with hatred as I clutched the knife behind me. "Of course, Alpha Loic. I was wondering... If you were to choose between a quick death and a slow one, which would you choose?"
I smiled brightly. He was taken aback for a moment. Then his face twisted in anger. "Have you forgotten your place so soon, Omega? Go down on your fucking knees."
"Omega? Aww. Adele would be so hurt. Tonight, I'll pronounce your death. The Alpha of the Vanguard pack, killed by fire. Touchè." I snapped my hands, and fire sprang up from all corners, encircling the room, with us in it.
"Y-you are not Adele. Who are you?" His eyes widened.
...
The Demon Queen, a name that struck terror in the minds of mortals and werewolves alike. Who'd have thought she'd meet her end during one of her adventures at a nightclub?
After being struck dead by the Alpha of her most hated race, Ophelie returns in the body of a wolf-less girl with only one mission in mind. To kill her murderer.
But sometimes, things never go as planned. When love is thrown in the mix, Ophelie finds herself and her previous plans swaying.
Refusing to kill Loic is to lose herself and her powers. What would she choose?
7.7
Not only was I drugged, blinded and assaulted. I was deceived into carrying a baby by a stranger I never knew. Then he appeared and took my child away.
I was sent to a militia by the father of my child. I thought I was rescued but I was recruited to be a weapon for killing. Who was manipulating me, I didn't know. The answers were far from what I knew.
Forced to blend into the world that I could never believe I would be to, a place where brutality reigned, kill or be killed was the only language. I have survived but he has to pay for everything he did to me, because I believed every phase of my life was set by him and him alone. Have I really survived?
Who would have thought, he existed twice in the same world? Do I really know who I should take revenge on? Him or the person I would sacrifice everything for?
Was my mother the one who orchestrated everything? What kind of pawn am I?
7.7
I was suffocating in a borrowed Valentino gown at the Met Gala, but it wasn't the corset that was killing me. It was the debt collector, Vargo, stalking me through the crowd like a wolf.
Desperate to hide, I ducked into a private lounge and threw myself at the silhouette of a man sitting in the shadows, pressing my lips to his in a frantic plea for cover. When I pulled back, the air turned to ice; I was staring into the ocean-blue eyes of Kingsley Osborn, the billionaire who believed I’d sold his company secrets six years ago.
Kingsley didn’t save me; he trapped me. The next morning, he slid a "Marriage Service Agreement" across his desk, revealing he knew everything about my father’s illegal Ponzi scheme and the quarter-million dollars I owed to loan sharks. He offered to pay my debts and protect my father, but only if I signed over two years of my life to be his trophy wife.
"I don't want your money, Cassidy. I want your life."
The marriage was a cold, calculated war. He forced me into his glass fortress, banned me from contacting my friends, and treated me with a distilled hatred that felt like a physical weight. When I accidentally broke his grandfather’s vintage watch during a nightmare, he didn't see an accident—he saw a crime, threatening to destroy my father if I didn't "charm" his board of directors into submission.
I was a prisoner in a three-piece suit, until I found a mislabeled file buried in his company’s server. It contained evidence of a massive, illegal hostile takeover that would ruin Kingsley if the Feds ever saw it.
I held the gun that could destroy the man who had cornered me. But as I looked at the champagne roses he’d secretly kept from my "peace offering," I realized I didn't want to pull the trigger. I wanted to see how far he’d go to keep me from leaving.
8.1
Iverson played the role of a rebellious, useless loser to survive in his mother's new wealthy family. He deliberately tanked his grades and hid his genius so his perfect stepbrother wouldn't feel threatened.
But when a violent gang extorted Brenda, the only woman who actually acted like a real mother to him, Iverson dropped the act. He brutally dismantled four armed thugs with a broken aluminum pole to save her life.
At the police station, he faked being a terrified victim to avoid jail. But when his biological mother arrived, she didn't even ask if he was hurt. Instead, she glared at him with pure disgust.
"How much more humiliation are you going to put me through?"
She threw a tutoring folder at his chest, praising his stepbrother's Ivy League prospects while threatening to cut off Iverson's trust fund for fighting over slum trash.
Iverson clenched his fists in silence. He had deliberately played the idiot and ruined his own reputation just to keep her safe in that toxic mansion. Yet, she looked at him like he was absolute garbage. She truly believed he was just a brainless thug holding her back.
Back in his room, Iverson locked the heavy oak door and booted up his highly encrypted laptop. The screen loaded into the world's most elite underground academic network.
"Welcome back, Rank 1."
He stared at the glowing screen with a cold, dangerous smile. He was done playing the fool.
8.6
The Maybach glided through rain, Dante's cold cedar cologne a familiar comfort. Seven years, my life revolved around him, my fingers on his suit cuff, a silent promise. But tonight, our normal shattered with a single phone call.
He answered, speaking rapid Italian – a language he thought I didn't understand. Every word: a death knell. Confirming his engagement to Sofia Moretti, dismissing me as a 'consolation prize.'
Seven years of loyalty vanished. His loving mask back, he left for his fiancée. I stumbled into freezing rain, recalling my foster past. My numb fingers dialed his mother, Isabella, demanding fifty million for my silence. Her insults didn't sting.
The true gut punch: Sofia's Instagram, a prenup on Dante's desk, proudly showing *my* watch, captioned: 'Fourteen days left.' This wasn't their celebration; it was my death sentence.
I wouldn't stay another day in this gilded cage. My old duffel bag, packed, waited. The Australia brochure, a childhood dream, in my pocket. This time, I would live for myself, and they would all pay.
8.7
I died in a mangled wreck of metal and fire, abandoned by the man I thought was my soulmate. But instead of the void, I woke up pinned against a cold marble wall, staring into the turbulent, storm-gray eyes of Damian Vincent.
This was the night I destroyed my life. In my past world, I spat in Damian's face and ran into the arms of Eddie, a parasitic loser who was secretly plotting with my cousin Jill to strip me of my inheritance.
My "escape" turned into a slow-motion suicide. My brother Donavan died in a horrific car crash while racing to save me from another one of my messes. Damian, consumed by a toxic mix of grief and vengeance, crushed the Nelson family empire until my father was a broken man. I spent years as a drugged-up social pariah, finally dying alone while the people I trusted laughed at my funeral.
The most bitter realization didn't hit me until the end. The "controlling monster" I spent years fighting was the only person who ever truly protected me. I had traded a man who would burn the world for me for a man who would burn me for the world.
Opening my eyes three years in the past, I find myself back at the airport, the rain lashing against the windows. My brother is pleading with me to run, and Damian is standing there, braced for the slap he thinks is coming.
But I don't strike him. I press my palm to his burning cheek and give him the only piece of my soul he couldn't buy.
"I'm not going anywhere, Dami. Keep this as my collateral."
The game has changed. This time, I'm not the victim-I'm the one holding the match.