Revenge Wedding

Zoe hadn't planned on it being that night. She hadn't planned on how a simple, quiet evening, where everything seemed to be going normally, would turn everything upside down. As she had just returned to their apartment, she had had this strange feeling of being out of sync, an inexplicable impression that something was wrong. She had put it down to the stress of work, to the fact that she hadn't slept enough in the last few days. But now, thinking back to the intuition that had struck her, she wondered how she hadn't been able to perceive it sooner.

She had opened the living room door a crack, her shoes barely put in the entryway, her coat still hanging on the door. It was Victor's silhouette that she had seen, sitting on the sofa, laughing out loud. But it was not a banal laugh, it was that laugh that she knew well: that of a deep complicity, a shared, intimate laugh. He seemed to have forgotten everything else in the world, everything they had built together. But what had immediately captured her attention was not simply the scene, but the presence of Damien, Victor's best friend. This detail, this little something that should never have been there. Damien was not supposed to be there. Zoe knew that it was not normal, but she had not wanted it, she had not wanted to see what she was going to see.

She had approached, unsure of what she would find. But the words had struck like a guillotine. Damien had tilted his head back, bursting into laughter, and his hands were resting on Victor's knees. There was nothing suspicious about that in itself, except that Damien's fingers had lingered a little too close to Victor's thighs, and when he had slid a glance towards his friend's face, he had sketched a smile that had made Zoe shiver from head to toe.

She had seen the moment they had realized she was there. Victor's gaze had frozen, his smile had faded as suddenly as his laughter had. A heavy silence had filled the room. Zoe had frozen in turn, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to understand what had just happened. She hadn't needed words to understand. She knew. It was as if a veil had been torn away, letting her discover a world she would never have thought possible. She had seen their complicity, and she had seen something even more devastating: the way Victor had looked away. As if, in that moment, he had sought to hide a truth that he knew was unacceptable.

Damien had then said, in a voice too calm, too deliberate: "Zoe, wait, it's not what you think." But she didn't want to hear anymore. She had already seen everything, understood everything. Her eyes had filled with tears, but she had forced herself to stay calm, not to burst into tears. Not yet. She didn't want to do them this favor, didn't want to give them the right to see her collapse.

"So it's true..." she had whispered, more to herself than to them. She had taken a step back, then two, until her feet hit the corner of the furniture. She had wanted to run away, but her legs were heavy. She was paralyzed by pain, by disappointment, by humiliation. "How could you..." Zoe's voice had trembled, but she had done her best to make her words carry. She had looked at him, Victor, this man she loved and with whom she had shared so many plans, so many dreams. And this same man was now there, in their living room, laughing with his best friend, as if none of that mattered.

Victor had stood up, moving toward her, but she had pushed him away with a sharp gesture. "Don't come to me." He had hesitated, as if, for the first time, he didn't know what to do. As if, in that suspended moment, he had no idea what he could say to repair what he had destroyed. Zoe didn't have the courage to look him in the eye. She knew she would never be able to look at him the same way again.

"Zoe, I..." He said her name as if it would be enough to erase the betrayal. "It's not what you think." But the words were empty, meaningless, void of any hope of redemption.

She hadn't had the courage to give him a chance to explain. She didn't want to. What could he have said to justify what he had just done? How could he have explained this scene that she had seen with her own eyes, these gestures, this complicity that left no room for doubt? She felt betrayed in her soul, in her body, as if a part of herself was already dead, as if she no longer existed.

"That's it... That's all you have to say?" Zoe spoke with an icy calm that barely masked the tremor in her voice. She didn't want to scream, she didn't want to give him that privilege. She took a deep breath before continuing. "You want me to believe you, don't you? That this is all just a mistake, a misunderstanding?" She shook her head, tears now streaming down her cheeks. "No. I can't. I..." Her words trailed off in a ragged breath. It was too much for her. Too much. She had left the room, her heart in tatters, like an abandoned wreck. She hadn't taken her things. She hadn't taken her souvenirs. She had simply left the apartment, not knowing where to go, not knowing what to do.

She had wandered the streets, lost, as if the ground had given way beneath her feet. The people who passed by her didn't even look at her. She had found herself at the edge of the canal, her hands shaking, trying to contain her grief. But she couldn't. The pain was too intense, too dull. The sight of Victor, his frozen face, his tasteless apologies, all of it jostled in her mind, like a whirlwind of chaos. She hadn't known how to react. She hadn't known how to accept the unacceptable. She had let herself be overwhelmed by an ocean of anger, sadness and betrayal. She didn't want to go back to her parents, to see them staring at her with pity. She didn't want a look that would have seen her failure.

She realized she had nothing left. Nothing, except this deep need, this rage that boiled inside her. A rage that she didn't quite understand yet, but that gave birth to a dark idea in her mind: she had to get revenge. She had to make him suffer, make him feel at least a fragment of what she felt. She had given it to him. She had loved him with all her heart, but he had betrayed her in a way that nothing could repair. There was no going back, no forgiveness possible.

Zoe knew she was embarking on a path of no return, but a part of her, the wounded part, also knew she had no other choice. And revenge would be her only ally, even if she knew it would change her forever.

Music echoed through the great hall of the glass palace, a place where only the most influential souls in the city could enter. The crystal of the champagne glasses clinked with each toast, while hushed conversations mingled with the worldly laughter of a few women adorned with sparkling jewels. The atmosphere was vibrant, but Zoe felt nothing. Nothing but an abysmal emptiness, a deep weariness that weighed on her shoulders, hidden behind a facade of smiles.

She should never have come. This evening meant nothing to her. A friend, convinced that she needed to "take her mind off things," had almost dragged her here by force, assuring her that an elegant dress and a few glasses of champagne would be enough to make her forget about Victor. But it was wrong. Nothing could erase the stinging humiliation that still burned in her chest. Every face around her seemed to wear a mask, and she herself was only a pale imitation of herself, trying to play a role in a world that no longer interested her.

She brushed her fingers against the cup she held, her gaze lost in space. How had she gotten here? A week ago, she was still planning her wedding. Now, she was wandering through a social gathering, looking for an escape, a way to numb her pain.

- You don't look like you're having a good evening.

The male voice abruptly pulled her out of her thoughts. Serious, slightly amused, but mostly charged with that quiet assurance that men have when they always get what they want. She looked up and met the gaze of the man who had spoken to her. He was tall, impeccably dressed in a black suit that seemed to have been tailored for him, and his unsettling blue gaze fixed her with an almost disturbing intensity.

- And you are? she asked, a little defensively.

He smirked, as if he found her reaction entertaining.

- Maxime Delacroix.

The name immediately rang a bell in his mind. Who didn't know Maxime Delacroix? He was one of the most powerful men in the country, a billionaire whose name was whispered in the most influential circles. He was said to be an outstanding strategist, a genius manipulator who never left anything to chance.

- And to what do I owe the honour of your presence, Maxime Delacroix? she asked with a hint of irony.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, intrigued by her biting tone.

- Let's say I'm curious. A woman this beautiful and obviously elsewhere... There must be a story behind that.

Zoe looked away, gripping her champagne glass a little tighter.

- There is no story. Just a bad night, as you so rightly guessed.

He stared at her face, as if he could read through her, as if her mask didn't work on him.

- I find it hard to believe that this was just a bad night.

He paused, letting a silence linger before adding, more quietly:

- It's a man, isn't it?

Zoe clenched her jaw. She didn't want to talk about it. Not to a stranger, not here. Yet there was something in his gaze, a sort of silent understanding that troubled her.

- You should be a detective, she finally said.

An amused glint flashed in his eyes.

- This is not my area of expertise. But I know a betrayed woman when I see one.

She held her breath. Those words hit harder than she intended. She could have denied it, dodged it, pretended he was wrong. But what was the point? This man seemed to already know everything.

- Congratulations, you were right, she replied acidly.

He tilted his head slightly, observing her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.

- And now ?

She narrowed her eyes slightly.

- Now what?

- What are you going to do?

Zoe opened her mouth, but no words came out. She had no idea. Up until now, she had been content to exist, to survive from day to day, to try to forget without succeeding. But he was asking the question she had never stopped avoiding. What was she going to do with this rage she felt bubbling inside her?

Maxime approached slightly, lowering his voice as if he were going to reveal a secret to her.

- I know what I would do.

She raised an eyebrow, slightly intrigued despite herself.

- Oh yeah? And what would you do?

He smiled at her, a smile that was anything but warm.

- I would take revenge.

Those three words made her shiver. She should have been shocked, repulsed by such a statement. But instead, she felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine. Because that was exactly what she wanted to hear.

She straightened up slightly, looking into his eyes.

- And how would you do that?

Maxime took a sip of his whisky before answering calmly, as if the answer was obvious.

- By destroying everything he cares about. His reputation. His career. His life.

Zoe took a deep breath. The idea was crazy. Terribly dangerous. But most of all... terribly tempting.

- You seem to have thought about the matter, she murmured.

He smiled again.

- Let's say I know this kind of situation. And I have the means to help you.

She frowned, suspicious.

- Why would you do that?

He shrugged slightly.

- Because I like to see people pay for their mistakes. Because I find that justice is sometimes too slow. And...

He paused, looking at her with a new intensity.

- Because your story intrigues me.

Zoe felt her heart beat faster. He wasn't joking. This wasn't just a game to him. He was making her a real proposition.

- And how, exactly, could you help me?

He placed his glass on the table next to him, before staring at her seriously.

- By giving you a wedding ring. A marriage, if you want to be precise.

Zoe burst out into a dry, incredulous laugh.

- A wedding? Are you kidding?

- No way.

He crossed his arms, his gaze still piercing.

- Imagine. You become Mrs. Delacroix. Your status changes immediately. You enter a world where your ex-fiance will no longer have any control over you. And I... I give you the weapons to ruin his career.

Zoe stood there frozen.

- Why me?

He smiled slightly.

- Because you are perfect for this role. Because you have this rage inside you. Because you want revenge, but you don't know how. I can show you the way.

A long silence fell between them.

Zoe knew it was insane. But a little voice inside her whispered that maybe this was exactly what she needed.

A pact with the devil.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt that the idea didn't displease her.

Zoe found herself alone again in Clara's apartment, the place where she had taken refuge after her meeting with Maxime Delacroix. The room, usually a haven of peace, now seemed oppressive to her, as if the walls themselves felt the heavy decision weighing on her shoulders. Clara had insisted that they spend the evening together, that they talk, that they get away from the tumult of Zoe's thoughts. But nothing worked. Maxime's face, his enigmatic smile, his bold proposal, all of it kept coming back to her mind. A marriage. A marriage with him.

Maxime's world seemed so distant and so inaccessible, and yet his offer resonated deeply within her.

Clara stood up and walked over to her, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. She set it down on the coffee table before settling into the armchair across from Zoe.

- You seem somewhere else, Clara sighed. What's bothering you?

Zoe looked at her, feeling frustration take hold of her. She took a deep breath before launching herself, her gaze lost in space.

- He proposed to me, Clara. A contractual marriage.

Clara blanched, her eyes widening in surprise.

- A wedding?! But... but why?!

Zoe sighed, running a hand through her hair, then letting it fall back onto her knee.

- I don't know... it's like an opportunity. A way to get back at Victor, to erase everything.

Clara shook her head, looking concerned.

- But you don't know anything about this man. This Maxime Delacroix, he's not someone you can take lightly. He's a businessman, Zoe. A real shark. He must have reasons behind all this.

Zoe looked into her eyes, doubt slowly creeping into her mind.

- But what am I supposed to do, Clara? I have nothing. Victor took everything from me. My dignity, my love, my confidence. And now I find out that's not even everything.

Clara sat up, looking alarmed.

- What? What else did he do to you?

Zoe felt her throat tighten. The weight of the discovery she had just made, a week after the betrayal, was still too fresh. But Clara deserved to know. She couldn't have borne keeping this to herself.

- I found out he betrayed me financially too. He used me for his own career, made me believe he was investing in projects... but they were scams. He siphoned off my account without me knowing. I have nothing left, Clara.

The silence that followed was heavy, heavy as a threatening cloud. Clara didn't move, frozen, her eyes wide open. Zoe let her digest the news. Everything she had known was collapsing beneath her feet, and she had never been so afraid of losing her footing.

- "It's... it's so low," Clara murmured after a few moments, her voice cracking with incomprehension. "But you can't let this happen. You can't accept Maxime's offer. There's nothing pure about it."

Zoe stared at her, trying to find an answer to what she had just said. But the truth, as devastating as it was, seemed so simple to her. Maxime Delacroix was offering her a chance to repair what she had lost. He was offering her more than revenge; he was offering her a way to become someone again, to free herself from this downward spiral.

- And why not? she answered in a calm voice. Why not take revenge, Clara? Why not make Victor pay for what he did to me? All this... all this is my fault. If I had known, if I had seen, if I had acted sooner, maybe I wouldn't be here.

Clara shook her head, her eyes filled with dismay.

- Zoe, listen to me. You can't let yourself be carried away by anger and pain. It's too risky. This is Maxime Delacroix, a man who knows nothing but manipulation. He's going to make you enter a game from which you'll never be able to emerge unscathed. You know how these people act, don't you? They make you believe that they are your allies, and they make you fall into a trap.

Zoe stared at her, her lips pressed together. Clara was right. But it all seemed so simple compared to the complexity of what she was experiencing. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to do it, to seize this opportunity. Maybe she was losing her way, but this possibility was all she had.

- What if this is my only chance, Clara? My only chance to get back on my feet, to take back control of my life? I can't just sit here and wait for everything to be taken away from me, doing nothing. I have nothing left to lose.

Clara remained silent for a long moment, as if she were weighing each word. Then she stood up abruptly, heading towards the window. She seemed lost in her thoughts, as if she were trying to find a solution that didn't exist. Zoe stood up slowly, approaching her.

- Clara... I... I understand that you're worried. I understand that you want to protect me. But I can't stay here anymore, watching my life fall apart. I'm tired, exhausted from this pain. And I think Maxime is the only one who can help me.

Clara turned around, her eyes filled with sadness, but also a glimmer of acceptance.

- You're right, Zoe, you have the right to take revenge. But know one thing: every decision has its price. And sometimes, revenge is a heavy debt.

Zoe looked down, feeling the weight of those words. But her decision was made. There was no turning back. She had to act now. If she didn't, she would be lost forever.

A few days passed, during which Zoe immersed herself in the idea of this marriage. She no longer spoke to Clara about it, no longer wanted any outside opinion. Her mind was tense, like a rope ready to give way. She had the impression that time was speeding up around her, that she had only one more opportunity to seize this power.

And then, that morning, she had discovered the truth. The final piece of the puzzle. The discovery that Victor had betrayed her financially was far worse than she had thought. She had gone to their old house, rummaging through papers, contracts, bank statements. And there, in a small forgotten envelope, she had found what he had done to her. Fake investments, fake projects. He had embezzled a colossal sum, and everything had been set up so that she would be the only one responsible. The scale of the betrayal was unimaginable, and she felt nauseous, overwhelmed by the discovery.

She had no choice. She had to get revenge, no matter what.

She picked up her phone, searched for Maxime in her directory and pressed the call button. The ringing echoed in the void, and when he picked up, his quiet voice was heard.

- Zoe, he said simply, as if everything had already been decided.

She closed her eyes, her breath quickening in her chest. She was ready.

- I accept, she said in a firm, almost broken voice. I accept your offer.

There was a pause. Then he answered:

- Very well, Zoe. You made the right choice. I will guide you, and we will make sure Victor pays. But remember one thing: this revenge comes at a price.

Zoe clenched her fists, feeling the tension ease a little.

- I'm willing to pay that price, Maxime.