Marriage for Revenge
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"How can you smile like that when neither of your fathers are here at your own wedding reception?" Pond asked, eyeing Dunk, who stood in the gallery, smiling towards his newly-wedded husband.
Dunk's smile didn't waver, but his eyes darkened. He turned to Pond, voice sharp, "Do you think I don't care? That I'd go against them on purpose?"
Pond responded without hesitation, "Aren't you doing exactly that?"
"No, I'm not," Dunk snapped. His voice dropped lower, colder. "I'm standing here for my pride-the same pride he crushed. I'm not a child who goes crying to his parents. He destroyed me, P'Pond. Now it's my turn. I'm going to destroy his life-completely."
Pond looked shaken. "You can't marry someone for revenge, Dunk. I told you-I'm here for you. I'll never let anyone from the Guthithanan family hurt you again."
Dunk's voice cracked as he exploded, "But he crossed the line that night!" He scanned the room and quickly pulled Pond into a quieter corner.
His voice was low and furious. "He shattered everything I had. And now, with this marriage, I'm going to make him live with the consequences. He's trapped with me now-forever. I won't let him walk away so easily."
His gaze flicked across the room-directly to Joong, who stood beside Sarawat, calmly speaking to a business partner. Joong caught Dunk's stare and instinctively looked his way.
Dunk raised his champagne glass with a mocking smile. A toast to war.
Joong clenched his jaw, returning the gesture coolly-but his burning eyes slid to Pond, full of rage and warning.
Marriage for Revenge Chapter 1
"Tell him he can't go out in that crop top!" Lam's voice echoed through the grand Jamornhum mansion.
Park glanced at Dunk, who was already half out the door, crop top in place and full of confidence. Park gave Lam a helpless look that practically screamed, "Why me?"
"You can't go out in those clothes, honey. You look too yummy for hungry eyes," Park said gently.
Dunk grinned and leaned in to kiss Park's cheek. "You're the best dad in the world. I'll be back around two or three. Sleep well!"
He waved dramatically in front of Lam, who looked on in disbelief.
"Who's the father here, you or him?" Lam snapped.
"Come on, Lam. We were the same at his age," Park said as they walked inside.
"Yes, but back then we didn't have enemies. We were just college kids fighting for faculty pride before stepping into the underground business," Lam countered, turning serious. "You understand my worries, right? I'm not stopping his independence-I just want him safe."
"Then don't stop him," Forth's voice entered from the living room.
"Forth! At least take my side," Lam pleaded.
Forth smirked. "He's a Jamornhum. Everyone knows not to mess with us."
"Who are you asking for help? He sent his own son to Japan for a dangerous job without thinking." Beam added, following Forth.
"Keep quiet, Beam. Our blood won't spill. And if it does-the floor will burn." Forth took Park out with him.
Just then, Boom tried to sneak out the side door. Lam caught him by the ear."How old are you, sneaking out at 10 p.m.?"
"It's a freshers' party, Uncle! How would it look if the head hazer didn't attend? What would I say-'I'm grounded'?" Boom mimicked.
"Boy, remember who I am. Just go back to your room."
"But I asked for permission!" Boom insisted.
"From who?" Lam raised a brow.
"Uncle Park and Uncle Forth."
"What about your fathers?"
"Uncle Park said he'd talk to his brother." Boom was ready.
Lam flicked his forehead. "He is your father too."
"I never said he isn't. Thanks, Uncle Lam!" Boom pecked his cheek, waved to Beam, and ran out as he spotted Park and Forth returning.
"Boom's too cute to be head hazer," Beam said.
"So was P' Arthit. And Boom has our blood-he was born for it. But why are you even discussing this?" Park said proudly.
"He just left for a party. Your blood runs wild in them." Lam muttered.
"That's not fair! You let Boom go easily, but my baby Dunk had to beg," Park pouted.
"First, Dunk never begs. Second, Forth and you gave him permission, if you forget."
"I didn't!" Forth threw up his hands.
"Thanks for the permission, uncles!" Boom shouted as he sped off.
"They're fooling us now," Lam sighed.
"Let them enjoy. Don't raise your BP Lam." Forth said.
But Lam stared at the door long after the others left. A pit formed in his stomach. Karma always came back-he just prayed it wouldn't find their children.
The past wasn't kind. After the final fallout between Kongpob and Arthit, alliances shifted. Technology to create children through combined DNA changed everything.
Rome's emotional bond to their firstborn had secured Bright's place in his life. Forth eventually obtained the same method through Phana to keep his Beam.
Now, 25 years later, those once-playful children stood as heirs in a divided empire.
At Club VAST,
"Dunk, slow down," Reno said, watching him take another shot.
"Come on, live a little. We'll be working soon," Dunk laughed.
"I can't get drunk like you. What if P'Pond shows up?"
"You know him. Might be late. Might not come," Dunk pouted.
"He'll come. Just control yourself."
Across the club, Joong entered, sharp and cold. The club, VAST, was a Guntithtanon empire gem, handed down from his father. Joong ran it like a machine.
"Is my space ready?" he asked the manager.
"Yes, sir. All VIP space is reserved. Some customers are upset."
"Doesn't matter. Keep security tight. No drama tonight." Joong said and walk away.Dunk saw him.
He marched to the VIP section. Security tried to stop him. Joong raised a hand. "Let him in."
"Just because you're the owner doesn't mean you can act like God," Dunk snapped.
"I am god. If you want Try me, I will drive you to heaven." Joong said.
Dunk poured his beer on Joong's pants. "Not interested."
Joong's black eyes stares at Dunk's brown one. "Then why do you always try to get me naked?"
He smirks. "You know where to find me." Before Dunk could slap him, Joong caught his wrist and pulled him in his lap.
Then came a punch. Pond stormed in as Joong's security guard laid on floor with blood on his mouth.
"Stay in your limits, Guntithtanon. Next time, it'll be your face instant of your security."
He pulled Dunk away. Joong smirked. "Bring it on."
At another table, Kla, Technik, and Mix watched.
"Family drama as always, entertaining." Kla said.
"Why don't you help him in such situations?" Technik corrected.
" Because he is weird." Mix added. " And we only go when he was actually in trouble. "
"Why aren't you two closes to Dunk? You guys are cousins," Technik asked.
"Because he acts like an arrogant, attention seeking baby," Kla said.
"Too pampered," Mix agreed. "We're on okay terms with him-but we grew up fast and he is still a baby."
They shared a look-memories of a bloody fight at age 8 resurfaced. From that day, distance became their defense.
"When's my P'No coming?" Kla asked.
"Romeo mode is on." Mix teased.
"Sniffing dog is his brother. Bloodsucking vampire is his dad what do you think? when they are going to leave him alone?" Technik muttered.
Then Techno arrived, settling next to Kengkla.
"What's wrong P'No? Why do you look upset?" Kengkla asked. Worries can be seen in his eyes.
"Dad wants me to quit teaching and join the family business." Techno sighed.
"He has no rights to decide that." Technik said.
"He's our father Technik." Techno replied.
"You did it all on your own P'No. I will say this again he has no right to take decisions on your behalf." Technik said.
"Don't pressure him, Ai'Nik." Kengkla warned Technik.
"Do what you want, P'No." Kla said in a soft voice. " Eat first, then I'll take you a peaceful place later."
"Let's stay here for a while," Techno smiled faintly. " After that we can go?" Techno said looking at the three of them.
Mix and Technik exchanged glances. "We have a late-night meeting with a client." Technik said and Mix nodded.
Technik pulled Kla aside. "Touch him and I'll kill you."Kla only smiled.
Continue Reading
Marriage for Revenge of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.3
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them.
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?
9.3
On her wedding night at The Plaza Hotel, Clara went looking for her husband.
Instead, she found him in the dimly lit parking garage, passionately pinning down her bridesmaid.
She couldn't even scream or expose them. Just hours before the ceremony, Julian had tricked her into signing away her twenty percent shares of their co-founded company, leaving her completely penniless and unable to pay her grandmother's life-saving medical bills.
Fleeing in absolute despair, a sudden hotel blackout plunged her into a second nightmare. She was dragged into a pitch-black room and brutally violated by a heavily drugged stranger.
When a shattered Clara returned to the office to audit the books and reclaim her power, Julian demoted her to a dusty desk by the trash cans.
He flaunted his mistress in the executive suite and deliberately sent Clara into a horrifying trap. He arranged for vicious clients to drug and assault her, demanding high-definition blackmail photos so he could divorce her with absolutely nothing.
"Since you want to play rough, you can service Mr. Petrocelli tonight," the thug sneered, locking the VIP room door.
Clara was pushed to the brink of hell. Why was the man she devoted three years of her life to trying to destroy her so completely? And why did the freezing cedarwood scent of the stranger who ruined her in the dark perfectly match Conrad Vance, the ruthless CEO and Julian's untouchable uncle?
Rather than let Julian win, Clara smashed a glass bottle, held the jagged edge to her own throat to force the men back, and threw herself off the second-floor balcony into the freezing night.
But the bone-crushing impact never came. A massive figure shot out from the shadows and caught her, and her brutal counterattack finally began.
8.2
For three years, nineteen-year-old Ella Campbell rotted in a freezing psychiatric isolation room.
Her billionaire family didn't visit her once, only pulling her out today to force her to publicly apologize to Ashlyn, the perfect sister who had framed her.
At Ashlyn's glamorous engagement gala, Ella was treated worse than a stray dog and forced to watch her childhood sweetheart propose to her sister.
When Ella showed no jealousy, her brother Ivan dragged her onto a dark balcony and nearly choked her to death.
Her mother didn't even check if Ella was breathing, merely ordering a makeup artist to paint thick concealer over the dark purple handprints on Ella's neck so the family's stock price wouldn't drop.
Standing under the blinding stage lights in a shapeless gray dress, facing three hundred mocking Wall Street executives, Ella was supposed to be the broken, obedient psycho the Campbells needed.
"I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused."
She was supposed to end the apology there and bow to her abusers, but Ella didn't shed a single tear.
"My only regret is that I didn't insist on waiting for the police to arrive that night. I deeply regret that I didn't demand a full, legal toxicology report to prove to everyone exactly what happened."
As the ballroom erupted into suspicious whispers and her paralyzed twin brother finally saw the violent bruises hidden beneath her makeup, Ella's counterattack against the Campbell family officially began.
7.6
Isolde Mitchell knew her wealthy husband was cheating on her, but the true nightmare began when her mother-in-law summoned her.
The older woman coldly announced that the mistress was pregnant with a boy and would be moving into their estate.
Because Isolde's family had gone bankrupt and she had only given birth to a frail daughter, she was deemed completely worthless.
When Isolde packed her bags and demanded a divorce, her husband Clark just laughed.
He threatened to use their ironclad prenup to leave her penniless and take full custody of her daughter just to torture her.
To make matters worse, he forced Isolde to secure a failing business deal with the ruthless billionaire Jacques Valdez, essentially ordering her to sell her body to get the signature.
"If you fail, you will never see Bria again."
He even sent his goons to snatch the little girl from her preschool to prove his point.
Isolde was completely cornered, trembling with a mix of rage and absolute despair.
How could the man she married be such a monster? She would rather die than let them destroy her daughter, but how could a bankrupt mother fight a powerful dynasty with absolutely nothing?
Out of options, she looked at the private business card the terrifying billionaire Jacques had unexpectedly given her daughter.
Swallowing her pride, she decided to make a deal with the devil himself, ready to use his power to tear her husband's family apart.
8.3
Ayleen Ramirez sat in the sterile Hope Hill Fertility Clinic, her heart shattering as Dr. Finch delivered the crushing news: her third IVF cycle had failed.
Eavesdropping outside a supply closet, she overheard her husband Don on the phone, laughing cruelly. "She's a defective incubator," he sneered to his mistress Alessandra. "I never used my sperm—just cheap bank donation. No trailer trash carries a Bradley heir."
Betrayed, Ayleen confronted him, but her adoptive family ambushed her at home. Her parents and brother sided with Alessandra, now pregnant by Don, demanding Ayleen sign divorce papers to secure family investments. "You're an embarrassment," her mother snapped, threatening to cut her trust fund. Ayleen tossed back their heirloom necklace and walked out.
She stormed the Bradley mansion, slapped divorce papers on Don, packed her bags amid his aunt's insults, and fled into the night.
Drunk in a trendy bar, she stumbled into a powerful stranger—Burdette Guerrero—spilling whiskey on his crotch, then accidentally grabbed a napkin to his trousers. He shoved her away in rage.
Worse, she mistook his penthouse suite for her hotel room, bursting in on his shower, smashing a mirror in panic. He pinned her to the wall, snarling accusations.
How did this arrogant man know her name? Why demand she sign a mysterious contract at 9 a.m.? Devastated and clueless she's actually pregnant—with his stolen heir—Ayleen sobbed alone, the world crumbling.
The next morning, she straightened her spine in the Grand Guerrero lobby, ready to face him and demand answers—no matter the cost.
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