I’ll Have My Revenge, Husband

When night finally settled in, I stepped onto the rooftop bar, the city unfurling below like a sea of lights, endless and glittering. The wind teased loose strands of my hair while distant music blended with laughter and the clink of glasses. I took a slow breath, steadying myself, and let my eyes roam across the crowd.

And then I saw him.

Sebastian stood by the railing, tall and composed, as if the chaos of the world couldn’t touch him. A glass of whiskey rested loosely in his hand, the neon glow carving his profile into something sharp and unyielding.

I took a seat at the edge of a shared table, exchanging polite smiles, offering light conversation when spoken to. Outwardly, I fit in. But my gaze betrayed me—it kept drifting back to Sebastian. He never once looked in my direction.

As the night deepened and alcohol loosened tongues, someone shouted for a game of Truth or Dare. Cheers erupted. When it was Sebastian’s turn, he chose truth without hesitation.

A man across from him leaned forward, clearly entertained. “Alright, Hawthorne. Be honest—what kind of person do you despise the most?”

The laughter faded.

Sebastian traced the rim of his glass slowly before answering. “I can’t stand people who want everything. The kind who profit from one side, then turn around and demand rewards from the other.”

He paused.

Then he turned his head.

His gaze cut straight through the space between us and locked onto mine.

“Do you know what that’s called, Vivienne?”

Ice flooded my veins.

For a heartbeat, the entire rooftop fell silent. Then someone laughed too loudly, cracked a joke, and the noise returned, awkward and forced.

Sebastian murmured a brief apology to the group and stood, clearly intending to leave.

“Sebastian—wait, please,” I called, already moving after him.

I barely made it around the corner before someone seized my wrist.

“He doesn’t want to see you,” a familiar voice sneered. “Why do you keep chasing him? Are you really that shameless?”

Maximilian.

Again.

His fingers bit into my skin. I struggled, but he didn’t budge. “Let go of me. This has nothing to do with you.”

A calculating glint flashed in his eyes. He snapped his fingers.

Two men appeared instantly, each grabbing one of my arms.

“Let me go! Maximilian, what are you doing?!” I shouted, panic surging.

“Calm down,” he said gently, almost tenderly.

Before I could react, one of the men forced a small red pill past my lips, holding my jaw so I couldn’t spit it out.

“Mmph—!”

I gagged, but Maximilian pressed a glass of liquor to my mouth. The alcohol burned as it slid down my throat, sending me into a fit of coughing, tears stinging my eyes.

He watched with a look of quiet satisfaction.

Heat rushed to my face. My breathing turned shallow, uneven. He waved the men away, slipped an arm around my waist, and pulled me close.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

He dragged me down the corridor toward his suite. The drug made the world tilt and blur. I pushed weakly at his chest, though it probably looked like I was clinging instead of resisting.

And then I saw him.

Sebastian stood at the far end of the hallway, his eyes fixed on Maximilian’s arm wrapped around me.

“…Vivienne.”

The sound of my name twisted my heart painfully. He started toward us, fast and purposeful.

I tried to reach for him. “L-Sebastian, please, help—”

Maximilian cut in smoothly. “Don’t make a scene. You drank too much and came looking for me. You begged for another night—just like the one in the presidential suite.”

“No,” I breathed. “That’s not true.”

My voice was barely audible.

“Shh,” Maximilian whispered, brushing away a tear from my cheek. “Don’t talk nonsense. Mr. Hawthorne is watching.”

Then he lifted his gaze to Sebastian, his smile turning razor-sharp.

“Mr. Hawthorne, do you plan to interfere? Vivienne belongs to me. I intend to marry her. Do you really think I’d hurt her? You’d be wise to keep your distance.”

Sebastian stopped.

His raised hand hesitated—then fell slowly to his side.

Something inside me went numb.

The last fragile hope I’d been clinging to shattered in that moment.

I stopped resisting. My body went slack as Maximilian hauled me back to his private room.

The door slammed shut. He threw me onto the leather sofa, my limbs heavy and unresponsive. Through the haze, I saw his shadow loom over me, his fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one.

The final thing I saw was his smile hovering above me before the world went black.

---

I woke slowly, blinking against the harsh glow of a chandelier. My head throbbed, my body screamed with soreness, and my skin felt raw, hypersensitive. A bitter taste crawled up my throat. I leaned forward, retching, though only sour liquid came up.

I pulled my dress back into place, adjusting it enough to look barely decent, and forced myself upright. My legs wobbled beneath me, but somehow I made it out of that suffocating room and into the cool night air.

The parking lot lights flickered weakly. For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to collapse.

Then I saw him.

Sebastian.

He leaned against his Bentley, a cigarette burning between his fingers, as if he’d been waiting. When he noticed me stumbling toward my car, his entire posture changed. He dropped the cigarette, crushed it underfoot, and strode toward me.

“Vivienne…”

I froze.

The hand he reached out with—I recognized it. The same hand that had pushed me away earlier. The same hand that had left me at Maximilian’s mercy.

I shook my head and stepped back.

“Don’t,” I whispered.