The Great Black King by Elliot

Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge

Xiao Hong Mao

I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go. The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside. The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal. I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate. But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone. "Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands." The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak.

Modern Revenge

Download the Book on the App

♱ •⋅ 1750 A.C. ⋅• ♱

There was much to be said regarding history, but nothing left me as stunned as this. The strong and warm arms of the man I had always dreamt of were around me, and he looked at me with a smile in his violet eyes that I admired so much.

He seemed real.

"What's wrong?" he asked me with a rough and gentle voice.

"Uh... nothing," I replied, questioning whether all of this was a dream or not. But he was still there, his eyes now closed as he held me in his embrace.

Indeed, this was one of the best dreams I had ever had.

"Sir," a masculine voice called out to him, and I saw Calisto raise his face with displeasure.

"What the hell do you want?" he grumbled.

"We've learned something that might interest you, sir," the man said, and a shiver ran down my spine.

"I'm busy," he said, burying his face in my back. I could feel his breath on my bare skin, and it made my face warm.

"Sir," the man persisted, and by this point, I already knew what would happen. I had read and reread that scene thousands of times, so I mentally repeated it as he spoke in perfect synchrony: "A girl has emerged in front of the Cathedral of Samael."

Calisto growled, and I could feel his fangs against my skin, but he hadn't bitten me. He was displeased.

"Then kill her already," he snarled.

"We couldn't, sir," the man said, and I involuntarily smiled.

Whether it was a dream or not, he was staying true to the book I had read so many times. And if it was him, if it was that scene... then I was...

My gaze wandered around the room, searching for a mirror, and when I found one, I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

Red hair like blood, ruby eyes without pupils, and skin pale as a corpse. There was no doubt I was Asra.

The king's concubine, who attempted to go against the saint sent by God, would not only heal the king's son but also win his heart and make him good again, as well as the cause of his death.

Calisto seemed irritated as he let go of me and sat on the bed.

"They need your king to handle something so stupid? What good are the princes?" he was bothered, but my eyes were occupied with his sculpted body, with every feature of his face.

No matter how many fanatics I had seen or how many times I had imagined it, I would never come close to the true beauty of Calisto.

Black hair cascaded down his back in messy waves, thanks to what we had done before. But, to my unfortunate luck, I wasn't even dreaming of this beautiful moment. His eyes were rose quartz.

Read Now