Her Crown, Her Vengeance
img img Her Crown, Her Vengeance img Introduction
1
Chapter 11 img
Chapter 12 img
Chapter 13 img
Chapter 14 img
Chapter 15 img
Chapter 16 img
Chapter 17 img
Chapter 18 img
Chapter 19 img
Chapter 20 img
Chapter 21 img
Chapter 22 img
Chapter 23 img
Chapter 24 img
Chapter 25 img
Chapter 26 img
Chapter 27 img
Chapter 28 img
Chapter 29 img
Chapter 30 img
Chapter 31 img
Chapter 32 img
Chapter 33 img
Chapter 34 img
Chapter 35 img
Chapter 36 img
Chapter 37 img
Chapter 38 img
Chapter 39 img
Chapter 40 img
Chapter 41 img
Chapter 42 img
Chapter 43 img
Chapter 44 img
Chapter 45 img
Chapter 46 img
Chapter 47 img
Chapter 48 img
Chapter 49 img
Chapter 50 img
Chapter 51 img
Chapter 52 img
Chapter 53 img
Chapter 54 img
Chapter 55 img
Chapter 56 img
Chapter 57 img
Chapter 58 img
Chapter 59 img
Chapter 60 img
Chapter 61 img
Chapter 62 img
img
  /  1
img
img

Her Crown, Her Vengeance

Gavin
img img

Introduction

My entire life revolved around Ashworth Creatives, the agency I poured my soul into building, and my fiancé, Ethan.

Tonight was meant to be my crowning achievement, sealing a colossal client deal and my future within the powerful Ashworth family who' d adopted me.

Then, I saw Ethan' s phone.

A text from my manipulative adoptive sister, Chloe: "Heard you' re taking Ava to the gala tonight. Don' t forget our little after-party, just us. ;)"

Beneath it, a damning video: Ethan and Chloe, laughing, intertwined in my private guesthouse.

Chloe was draped in my deceased mother' s diamond necklace, a "gift" from Ethan, according to his text.

My blood ran cold.

They weren't just having an affair; they were plotting to use my marriage to secure my assets, then throw me aside, giving my agency to her.

The Ashworths had groomed me, controlled me, and now, they planned to discard me like trash.

I was a means to their end, and Ethan, their willing, despicable pawn.

The gala-my moment of triumph-threatened to become my public humiliation.

But a cold, unyielding rage ignited inside me, far stronger than any despair.

I wouldn't be their victim; I would dismantle them all, piece by agonizing piece.

My fingers flew across my own phone, dialing a number I' d heard whispered about, for "companions."

"I need an escort," I stated, my voice flat, holding back a torrent of fury.

"Tonight. For the industry gala. For a performance. You need to act like my devoted boyfriend."

My revenge would be calculated, public, and absolute.

            
            

COPYRIGHT(©) 2022