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Between Ruin And Revenge: Her Regret Novel Cover

Between Ruin And Revenge: Her Regret

After working tirelessly to surprise his wealthy girlfriend Arleen, Finn discovers her infidelity and cruel disregard. During a staged car accident meant to intimidate him, he is left bleeding out while Arleen ignores his trauma to coddle her lover. Waking up in a high-security hospital ward, Finn realizes he is being kept as her captive toy. He fakes his own death to escape her clutches, heading to London to build an empire and seek vengeance.
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Chapter 3

Finn Briggs POV:

I adjusted the collar of my faded black suit jacket as I pushed open the carved wooden doors of the Hilton banquet hall.

I did not want to be here. I would have been packing my bags in Brooklyn, but my landlord, Mr. Kowalski, had called me an hour ago. Kowalski had threatened to withhold my security deposit over fabricated damages. I knew Arleen had paid Kowalski to make the threat. It was her way of forcing me to attend, ensuring her favorite toy remained on a short leash.

The heavy doors shut behind me, sealing me inside. The air in the room was thick and suffocating, heavy with the cloying scent of sweet champagne mixed with expensive floral perfumes.

I kept my head down. I walked straight to the darkest corner of the room, near the heavy velvet drapes. I picked up a glass of ice water from a passing waiter's tray. I leaned against the wall, intending to stand perfectly still and survive the next two hours.

A sudden murmur rippled through the crowd. The string quartet stopped playing.

I looked toward the entrance. Arleen walked in. She wore a custom crimson gown that swept the floor. Her hand was wrapped tightly around Jaquez's arm. They walked into the center of the room, soaking in the attention of the wealthy guests.

I watched them. I felt nothing. It was like watching a poorly acted Broadway play. The betrayal did not sting anymore; it just bored me.

Jaquez scanned the room over the rim of his glass. His eyes locked onto me standing in the shadows. A nasty, sharp smile spread across Jaquez's face.

Jaquez pulled his arm away from Arleen. He grabbed two full glasses of champagne from a table and began walking straight across the room, cutting through the crowd, heading directly for my corner.

I saw him coming. I set my water glass down on a nearby tray. I turned my body, preparing to walk out the side exit.

Jaquez suddenly sped up. He lunged forward, intentionally throwing his right shoulder hard toward the center of my chest.

My body reacted on pure instinct. I twisted my torso sharply to the left, stepping out of the path of the collision.

Jaquez hit empty air. His momentum carried him forward, throwing him off balance.

A flash of vicious calculation crossed Jaquez's eyes. Instead of catching himself, he swung his arm wide and hurled the champagne glass directly into the massive crystal champagne tower stacked on the table beside us.

The impact was explosive. The sound of shattering glass ripped through the banquet hall. Dozens of crystal coupes cascaded down, crashing onto the marble floor in a waterfall of sharp shards and foaming alcohol.

Jaquez threw himself onto the floor, landing right in the middle of the wreckage. He deliberately slammed the palm of his right hand down onto a jagged, broken stem.

Blood instantly welled up from the deep cut. The bright red liquid dripped onto the pristine white wool rug. Jaquez grabbed his wrist and let out a loud, theatrical scream of agony.

Total silence fell over the room. Every guest froze, their eyes wide with shock, staring at the corner.

Arleen shoved her way through the crowd. She ran to the wreckage and dropped to her knees. She saw the blood pouring from Jaquez's hand. All the color drained from her face.

She did not ask what happened. She did not look at the angle of the fall. She stood up, spun around, and swung her arm.

Her palm cracked against my cheek with a sickening smack.

The slap echoed in the quiet room. The force of it snapped my head to the side. A bright red handprint immediately blossomed on my pale skin.

"Are you out of your mind? !" Arleen screamed, her voice shrill and echoing off the high ceilings. She pointed a trembling finger right at my face. "You are so pathetic! You attack him because you are jealous? Because you have nothing?"

I slowly turned my head back to face her. I pressed my tongue against the inside of my cheek. I tasted the sharp, metallic tang of blood where my teeth had cut my lip.

I did not raise my hands. I did not open my mouth to defend myself. I just looked at her.

My eyes were completely hollow. There was no anger, no sorrow, no plea for understanding. It was the absolute, chilling emptiness of a man looking at a stranger.

Arleen's chest heaved as she breathed, but as she met my gaze, she faltered. A sudden, inexplicable panic fluttered in her throat. She could not hold eye contact with me. She quickly looked away, her hands shaking.

"Security!" Arleen yelled, turning her back to me. "Get security in here! Call an ambulance right now!"

She knelt back down and carefully wrapped her silk scarf around Jaquez's bleeding hand, treating him like fragile glass.

Jaquez leaned his head against Arleen's shoulder. He looked past her hair, straight at me, and smiled. It was the smug, victorious grin of a man who knew he had won the game.

Three large security guards rushed into the corner. They grabbed me by the shoulders, shoving me backward, forming a physical wall between me and the couple on the floor. They treated me like a violent threat.

I did not resist the guards. I let them push me back. I watched Arleen carefully help Jaquez to his feet, whispering soothing words to him.

The last remaining thread of warmth in my chest snapped and froze solid.

I reached up to my neck. I grabbed the knot of the expensive silk tie Arleen had bought me for my birthday last year. I pulled it loose, yanked it off my collar, and dropped it. The silk tie fluttered down, landing in the puddle of spilled champagne and bloody glass.

I turned around. I pushed my way through the crowd of wealthy guests. I ignored their disgusted whispers and glaring eyes. My footsteps were heavy and deliberate.

I reached the main doors and pushed them open, stepping out into the cool night air.

I stopped on the sidewalk. I reached into my jacket pocket and let my fingertips brush against the folded pink court receipt. I felt the texture of the paper. I looked back at the glowing Hilton sign, feeling nothing but total disgust for the city and the lies it held.

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