His Empire, My Revenge

"Is that…?"

"No. It can't be. Look at her."

"Oh my God, she’s alive? After four years?"

The whispers started at the grand entrance of the Roth Foundation Gala and spread like wildfire, a toxic hum that drowned out the string quartet. Champagne glasses paused mid-sip. Every head in the room turned toward the grand staircase where a woman in blood-red silk gown stood framed by golden light.

She was devastatingly beautiful, but it was a beauty forged in a furnace.

Long black hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, contrasting sharply with the crimson dress that hugged every curve of her body like a second skin. The slit climbed dangerously high up her thigh, revealing legs that moved with the grace of a panther. But it was her eyes that made the room hold its breath. Dark, burning, and fixed on one man across the crowded floor.

Sebastian Roth.

The King of the city. The man who had stood over an empty casket four years ago and shed not a single tear. He stood at the center of a circle of elite investors, his expression shifting from his usual mask of aristocratic boredom to one of raw, unfiltered shock.

Valeria descended the stairs slowly. Every step was a slap in the face to the high society that had forgotten her name. The crowd parted instinctively, creating a path of silent judgment straight to her husband.

She stopped three feet away from him. The scent of jasmine and expensive revenge filled the space between them.

"Hello, husband," she said, her voice clear and melodic enough to travel to the back of the room. "I heard you were celebrating tonight. I thought I’d come and see what a man looks like when he’s finally succeeded in burying his past."

Sebastian didn't move. He didn't blink. He raked his dark eyes over her, from the red heels to the defiant tilt of her chin. The silence stretched until it was agonizing. Then, he let out a short, dry laugh that sounded like breaking glass.

"Valeria," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic. But showing up at a charity gala in a dress that screams for attention? It’s a bit desperate, even for a ghost."

"Desperate?" Valeria’s eyes flashed. "I’m not the one who lied to the world, Sebastian. I’m not the one who faked a death certificate to clear the path for a merger."

The room gasped. This was the public humiliation the socialites lived for. Cameras from the back of the room began to flash, capturing the fallout in high definition.

"Careful, Valeria," Sebastian stepped into her space, his height casting a long shadow over her. He didn't touch her, but the sheer weight of his presence was like a physical force. "You’ve been gone for four years. You’ve forgotten how this world works. No one here cares about the truth. They care about the scandal. And right now? You look like a woman who lost her mind and finally decided to come home for a handout."

Almost immediately, Valeria raised her hands and swung it furiously across his cheek.

The sound echoed through the ballroom like a gunshot.

Valeria’s hand was still stinging, her chest heaving with rage. She had hit him with everything she had, her palm connecting squarely with his jaw. Sebastian’s head snapped to the side.

The silence that followed was deafening. The socialites were frozen, their mouths open. Sebastian Roth, the most powerful man in the state, had just been publicly struck by the wife he had declared dead.

Sebastian didn't explode. He didn't move to strike her back. He stayed exactly as he was for five long seconds, his jaw clenched, the red mark of her fingers blooming on his pale skin. When he finally turned his face back to her, his eyes weren't angry. They were obsidian, dark, bottomless, and filled with a terrifying, obsessive light.

He reached up and slowly wiped a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. He looked at the red stain on his skin, then back at her.

"Is that all you've got?" he whispered, his voice so low it was for her ears only. "Four years of hatred, and that’s the best you can do?"

"I have enough hatred to burn this entire building down with you inside it," she hissed.

"Then strike me again," he challenged, stepping even closer, his chest nearly brushing hers. "Do it in front of the cameras. Show them exactly how much you still belong to me. Because only a woman who is still obsessed with her husband hits him with that much passion."

"I am not yours, Sebastian!"

"Every flash of those cameras says otherwise." He turned to the crowd, his voice raising to a position of absolute command. "Ladies and gentlemen! It seems my wife has a sense of humor as sharp as her temper. As you can see, the reports of her passing were... greatly exaggerated."

He turned back to her, a cruel, triumphant smile playing on his lips. He leaned in until his lips were inches from her ear.

"You wanted to humiliate me, Valeria? You just gave me the best PR stunt of the decade. Now, the world doesn't see a cold widower. They see a man with a wild, beautiful wife who has returned to his side. You didn't break me. You just branded yourself as mine all over again."

Valeria felt the blood drain from her face. She looked around the room. The judgment hadn't shifted to Sebastian. It had settled on her. The whispers were no longer about his lies, they were about her "instability," her "theatrics," and her "obvious" need for his attention.

"You're a monster," she breathed.

"And you're a Roth," he countered, his eyes gleaming. "And since you’ve made such a beautiful scene, you’re going to play the part. You’re coming home with me tonight. Not as a prisoner, but as the woman who just realized she can't survive without the man she tried to kill."

He offered his arm to her, a silent, public command. To refuse him now, in front of the press, would make her look like the villain. To take it was to step right into his trap.

Valeria looked at his arm, then at the red mark on his face. Then, she realized with a jolt of terror that she hadn't started a war. She had just walked right into his trap.

Slowly, her fingers trembling with a mix of fury and fear, she placed her hand on his sleeve.

"Smile, Wifey," Sebastian whispered, his hand settling over hers, pinning her fingers to his arm. "The world is watching. Let's give them the love story they're begging for."

Thank you for reading this part of His Empire, My Revenge.

More chapters may appear here from time to time, but the complete novel is already available for readers who want to continue Valeria and Sebastian’s story right away.

You can read the full book, link in profile.

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