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Her Crown, Her Vengeance

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 371    |    Released on: 18/06/2025

mix of disgust and re

hloe. He

dangled the agency in fro

r good behavior.

nt, was supposed to

ge for her humiliation

d back wit

oice playful, "is it a limited engagemen

"What are you

nd' role has an option for renewal. I fin

irritating, ye

t," Ava said firm

d to be p

damage

s voice was laced wit

ing more along the lin

initely te

flush creep

isn' t

ous, Ava. A lifetime of d

here was an undercurrent

ive, a

ices from the hallway

sacchar

t mind you using the guesthouse so muc

blood r

never know. Besides, once we' re married, and you' re a pa

at the

ere planning to use h

y. David, her assis

weet, innoce

vi

r' s necklace looks so much be

nched h

, where she' d taken

, eyes wide with

I didn' t know y

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Her Crown, Her Vengeance
Her Crown, Her Vengeance
“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.”