I’ll Have My Revenge, Husband

“I’m done pursuing you, Vivienne. I won’t come looking for you anymore. I hope you and Maximilian spend the rest of your lives together.” The words crushed my chest until breathing felt impossible. My sight swam, white at the edges, and I had to blink hard just to stay standing. That was when I noticed them. Camellias. Thousands upon thousands of deep red petals carpeted the ground, vivid and violent against the chill of the marble floor, like embers scattered after a fire. Sebastian Hawthorne stood at the center of it all, a small velvet box open in his hand, a diamond catching the light. His tailored suit framed his broad shoulders and narrow hips perfectly—every line of him sharp, controlled, undeniably powerful. But it was his eyes that undid me. Those dark eyes that always burned with intensity weren’t filled with anger or pride anymore. They reflected me. A younger me. Twenty-five years old. A foolish girl who never understood how deeply this man loved her. My heart folded in on itself. I was back. Given another life. Returned to the very day I had destroyed everything by pushing him away with my own hands. “Farewell, Vivienne.” He snapped the ring box shut and turned, ready to walk out of my life. “No—wait. Sebastian, please don’t.” My body reacted before my thoughts caught up. I rushed forward, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind, my cheek pressing into the solid warmth of his back. He went rigid. For the briefest moment, I thought he might lean into me. Instead, his hands reached down and carefully but firmly pulled mine away. “Vivienne,” he said quietly, his tone edged with restraint, “you already chose. You chose Maximilian Hartman. So why are you clinging to me now?” Maximilian Hartman. The name tore through me, dragging the memories of my last life back into my lungs like choking smoke. I remembered everything. My mother’s death. My father bringing his mistress into our home, along with her flawless daughter. How that house shrank around me, how I slowly learned to make myself smaller just to survive. I remembered wanting out. Desperately. Maximilian—the shining star of New York’s elite. Polished, adored, born into privilege. Sebastian—the boy with nothing, who clawed his way up and forged himself into someone untouchable. And me—greedy, naïve, convinced I needed security more than sincerity. I chose Maximilian. I thought I had won. Thought I was building something solid. And for a while, it seemed true. With my help, Maximilian’s empire expanded at an unbelievable rate. At our glamorous anniversary gala, he vowed the company shares would eventually be mine. But on the very day he planned to transfer them, his beloved woman appeared on the rooftop above the crowd. Before anyone could react—before security could reach her—she stepped forward and plunged down. She landed right in front of us. The sound of her body hitting the ground split the world apart. That death destroyed everything. Maximilian unraveled. He pointed at me. Screamed murder. Had me dragged away like trash and locked in a filthy cell. And before that cell swallowed me whole, before I died cold and alone, he finally told me the truth. Sebastian had tried to save me. He had offered every cent, every asset, everything he owned—just to set me free. I never knew. Not until the very end. Now, with my face pressed against Sebastian’s back and my fingers twisted in his shirt, I understood one absolute truth. I could not let him walk away again. In my first life, I had never been truly loved. My father abandoned me. My stepmother and her perfect daughter made it clear I didn’t belong. Maximilian treated me like a piece on his board, flaunting his mistresses without shame. I endured it all in silence. I never cried. Until I found Sebastian’s note. Just one sentence, written in his precise, unwavering hand: “I regret that I failed to protect my Vivienne.” I shattered. And even then, Maximilian didn’t release me. I died trapped like an animal—my death labeled an “accident” in prison, my eyes still open, still searching for the man I should have chosen. The final thought before everything went dark carved itself into my soul: if I were ever given another chance, I would never let Sebastian go again. And now… I had that chance. I swallowed the pain and forced the words out. “Sebastian, I made a terrible mistake. I mistook worthless glitter for something real. I don’t want him. I want you. Just you.” For a split second, something wavered in his eyes—but it disappeared just as quickly. His expression hardened. “Vivienne,” he said flatly, “don’t toy with me. I won’t be fooled a second time.” Fear surged through me. I opened my mouth to explain, to plead—but then— “Vivienne! What do you think you’re doing?!” The shout ripped through the air. I spun around as the door of a sleek black car slammed open. Maximilian stepped out, fury blazing in his eyes like he might burn the entire street down. The once-beloved prince of New York’s high society. The man I had elevated with my own hands. The same man who betrayed me and sent me to die. “You promised me yesterday you wouldn’t marry anyone else,” he snapped, his mouth twisting with contempt. “And now you’re throwing yourself at him? So what was I—just something to pass the time?” I looked at him calmly, feeling nothing at all. The man I once bent over backward to please suddenly looked small. Laughable. Before I could stop myself, my hand swung. The sound of the slap echoed sharply. Everything went silent. Maximilian reeled, one hand flying to his face. “Vivienne! Have you lost your mind? You think you can hit me?” I glanced at my palm. The sting made me smile faintly. That small pain grounded me. I was alive. I was back. Without sparing Maximilian another glance, I turned to Sebastian. The ring box was still in his hand. I didn’t wait for him to kneel or ask again. I took the ring myself, slipped it onto my finger, and lifted my chin to meet his shocked gaze. “Sebastian, I want to be your wife. If you’re willing, come to my family tomorrow and formally ask for my hand.” He stood frozen—then slowly, the tension in him broke. “Vivienne… of course I—” “Of course you what?” Maximilian cut in, laughing coldly. He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. Moans filled the air. Ragged breaths. The rhythmic creak of a bed under movement. My blood turned to ice. Maximilian’s smile was pure malice. “Hawthorne, let me spare you the humiliation. Last night, in the presidential suite, she and I went at it until the bed nearly collapsed. You really want a woman who’s already been used?” The roar in my ears drowned everything else. My hands trembled uncontrollably. On the screen… was me. Tangling in sheets with Maximilian. But it wasn’t me. I knew it. I had never let him touch me like that. Not in this life. Not in the one before. And in that instant, realization slammed into me. Maximilian wasn’t just vicious. He had come back too.