He’s Marrying Another, But I Became His Bride for Revenge

Everyone whispered that Zavier Morrison was obsessed with me. When I had a boyfriend, he kidnapped him; when I became engaged, he severed my fiancé’s hands.

I struck back by drugging him, taking 365 intimate photos, and spreading them everywhere.

When he woke, he didn’t curse me; he grabbed my throat, laughing as he kissed me.

“No wonder you’re the rose raised by your brother. We’re meant to be alike.”

I laughed too, strangely agreeing. From that night, we were bound together. Eight years passed, spring and autumn, and nothing separated us.

Until a young girl appeared, innocent and untouched. At the hospital for my IVF, she cradled her swollen belly and smiled at me.

“You must be Zavier’s adopted sister. I heard you like killing… no wonder you can’t have children.”

I only nodded, indifferent. She knew my nature and still came, and I accepted her presence as an unspoken invitation.

I sent her onto the operating table, snapped a photo of the unformed fetus, and forwarded it to Zavier.

“Your gift has arrived. I like it very much.”

——

Within ten minutes, the entire hospital was emptied by Zavier’s bodyguards. He stormed in with a gun, the sharp scent of blood clinging to him.

“Are you insane?”

“Isn’t this the gift you gave me? I accepted it… Aren’t you pleased?”

Zavier’s brows knit tight, his bloodshot eyes darting toward the operating room. “Tiffany, she’s only a young girl! You didn’t need to go that far!”

“Young girl? She knew I liked killing. I assumed you sent her here for me to vent.”

I tugged at my ear, lit a cigarette, and let it hang between my fingers.

“Brother, did I misread the situation? She wasn’t the gift you gave me, but the mistress you gave me?”

Zavier’s fury broke in an instant at the bloodlust curling in my smile. He spun and rushed into the operating room. The girl’s anesthesia had just worn off, and her screams split the air, raw and desperate.

“Zavier! She killed our child! Kill her, hurry! Kill her!”

His gaze swept over her bleeding lower body, and Zavier held her in his arms as he stormed toward me, gun raised to my head.

“Tiffany, you’ve gone too far!”

I smiled, lifting a hand to brush the gun aside, and blew a smoke ring into his face.

“So what? You want to kill me to avenge that bastard child?”

“Or…”

I leaned closer to her, drawing a dagger from my thigh. “You also want to cut open my belly to vent her anger?”

“Too bad, there’s nothing in my belly. I’m afraid you will be disappointed.”

As I spoke, the dagger sank halfway into the incision, and the girl fell silent instantly. Zavier’s bodyguards surged forward, but the fire in his eyes froze them in place.

The tip of the knife twisted, and the girl whimpered softly in her sleep. For a moment, Zavier’s eyes met mine. Then he suddenly laughed, raising his hand.

“Get out! I didn’t invite you here!”

“Tiffany, you really are something else.”

“Likewise. You taught me well.”

To mold me into someone like him, he had destroyed ten of my boyfriends. To force me to marry him, he had held my hand while plunging a knife into my boyfriend’s heart. He had said, “As long as you become like me, only I am worthy of being with you.”

He dragged me from high places into the dust, the white rose stained crimson, never to be cleaned. And now, he claimed to like clean ones? What a joke.

“So… I accepted the gift, and brother isn’t pleased? Then again, brother always enjoyed breaking hands and feet. By your style, she should never have the chance to conceive again. I was still too kind. Next time, I’ll make sure to do better.”

Zavier’s eyes lingered on me, sharp and unreadable, before he finally carried her away.

“Tiffany, mark my words, this matter will not end so easily.”

The fallout came sooner than I had expected. That night, the doctor who had guided me through ten rounds of IVF sent a message. Zavier had halted all remaining treatments and taken him to the villa to care for Evie.

Even my psychiatric medications were removed, with the claim that the weakened Evie needed them more than I did.

After the bodyguards departed, I sat staring vacantly at the ceramic ornaments in the display cabinet. Each piece was a gift I had made with my own hands, back when I had been hopelessly in love with Zavier.

Denver, furious on my behalf, packed everything into cardboard boxes.

“Sir has gone too far this time. How can he betray you for an outsider? If it weren’t for your support, he’d have been buried in some pile of dirt long ago!”

I shook my head, a laugh slipping from my lips.

“Just a toy. If he wants to make a scene, let him. When he’s done, I’ll go collect his corpse. Throw these away, and bring me Zavier’s antique collection.”

I sipped red wine, and under the pale moonlight realized for the first time just how beautiful those antiques truly were, yet beauty always comes with fragility.

I lifted the hammer, felt its weight, and struck, blow after deliberate blow, until vases worth billions shattered into shards, scattering across the floor like fallen stars.

Denver rushed forward, steadying me with a firm grip. “Miss, slow down. Don’t cut yourself. These pieces of trash aren’t worth it.”

I nodded, crouched down, and snapped photos of the shattered vases, sending them immediately to Zavier.

[Not enough, not loud enough. Next time, buy more.] his message read.

No further reply came, only a video call. I answered, and Evie’s smug face filled the screen.

“Seeing me, huh? Disappointed?”

I smiled, calm and unshaken. “Actually, I should thank you. Without you, how would I be living in Zavier’s mansion? Not only did he not abandon me after the miscarriage, but out of guilt, he spoils me even more.”

“I heard those gynecology experts were flown in from abroad at great expense just for you. After your miscarriage, you were so anxious you couldn’t sleep unless you tried IVF.”

“Tiffany, are you really so restless that smashing vases is the only way you can vent?”

She yawned deliberately, showing the kiss marks covering her chest. “Sorry, no time to chat. Zavier promised he’d make it up to me properly tonight.”

“Tiffany, you really are as filthy as the rumors say. No wonder he despises you.”

I curled my lips in a faint, cold smile. “Is that so? What a pity. Clean people don’t last long in the Morrison family.”

Denver’s face twisted with rage. “Tiffany, I’ll have someone teach her a lesson. Don’t worry, it’ll be thorough.”

I waved my hand lazily as I swung back and forth. “No need. She’s just a little girl.”

“I’ve already prepared a big gift for her.”

If she had any sense, she would have known exactly who she could taunt and who she couldn’t.

If not, I would make sure she learned the hard way. A month went by. Zavier hadn’t once stepped inside the house.

Knowing his obsession with collectibles, I bought a ticket to an auction, curious and amused.

There, the three of us collided. Evie clung to Zavier’s arm, pride gleaming in her eyes.

“Tiffany, what a surprise. What brings you here? Did someone tip you off about a gift for you tonight?”

I leaned back, exuding indifference. “So, after just a month, Evie, are you expecting again?”

Her smile faltered. Tears pooled in her eyes before she could blink.

Zavier’s eyes sharpened, icecold. “Tiffany, don’t overstep.”

“You scared her.”

A soft laugh danced in my voice.

Even at five months, I stood tall, facing those who dared approach. Dozens fell under the weight of my presence.

When he saw the corpses, he only praised me, no fear, no concern, not even a flicker of hesitation.

I stared at him, my voice low and soft. “Brother came to restock, right? Well, since the collection at home was smashed, it does feel a little empty.”

Zavier’s expression froze as his gaze shifted toward Evie.

She stammered, twisting under his cold stare, before finally admitting that I had sent the photos of the smashed antiques.

“I… I thought they were just some broken vases, probably not worth much, so I deleted them for you,” she mumbled.

Zavier’s face darkened, sharp as a blade, yet when he caught Evie’s pitiful expression, his tone softened. “Don’t make decisions on your own next time.”

The auction continued, dozens of lots passing by until the climactic finale.

With a snap, the lights went out. On the screen, 365 intimate photos of Evie appeared, every kind imaginable.

Her scream split the air, sharp and piercing.

“Ahhh!...”

“How are these even here?!” she shrieked, trembling.

In the next heartbeat, Zavier stormed in, the door slamming against the wall. “Tiffany! Delete those photos, now!”

I lifted my head slowly and signaled the auction staff.

“Sorry, sir. This item is registered for auction. To claim it, you’ll need to pay. Bidding starts at two million.”

My nails tapped against the table in a steady rhythm as I watched him, amusement curling my lips. His face twisted, rage, helplessness, bitterness, but not a trace of remorse.

“You’ve crossed the line this time!”

“She’s just a young girl!”

I let out a soft laugh, my smile bright as a blade.

“Then what will you do? It’s already on the floor. I’ve raised the bid to ten million. Will you keep up? Otherwise… I can’t promise where those photos might end up.”

Zavier slammed the door as he stormed out, every movement radiating pure fury.

Soon, the next private room announced its bids. No matter how high I went, he always topped me by another million.

Finally, when the photos sold for eighty million, I allowed myself a nod of satisfaction. I didn’t pursue it further; making him bleed this time was only the first step.

A message flashed on my phone from an unknown number.

[Tiffany, just you wait!]

[Your turn is coming soon!]

The final lot appeared: a socalled relic said to protect pregnancies. I laughed bitterly.

So this was the little girl’s revenge? How quaint. Truly, it barely scratched the skin, let alone hurt.

But my smile froze.

The screen shifted, revealing my daughter’s unearthed grave. The urn was empty.

“I heard this was your first child, and it was because of this child that you… broke.” “Too bad there weren’t enough ashes, only enough to make a relic.”

“Tiffany, do you like this gift?”

My breath caught in my throat, nails digging into my palm. I kicked open the door to the next room.

Evie lay in Zavier’s arms, her smile bright and triumphant.

“I like this lot. Zavier, can you give it to me?”

“It was meant to vent your anger in the first place. If you want it, keep it.”

Rage boiled through me. I drew my dagger and pressed the blade to his throat.

“You know what this means to me! Zavier, you bastard!”

That was our first child, and the only one.

When I was pregnant, he had been caught in a bloody gang massacre, barely clinging to life. I hid in the villa’s basement, but even there, enemies found me.

With a fivemonth belly, I gripped the dagger he had given me and drove it through a man who dared approach.

By the time Zavier returned, the villa had already been reduced to ashes by my hand. He held me in the sea of fire, tears streaked with blood, raw and endless.

“I swear, not one of them will be spared. I’ll use their blood to honor our child, to pave her way to reincarnation.”

He had done it, and yet our child was gone too.

Because of the fire, the scar winding across my belly remained forever. And now, he made a joke of it.

“Is it really necessary to care about something that belongs to the dead? Besides, you were the one at fault first. Consider this compensation for Evie.”

Evie stepped forward, a cruel smile lighting her face.

“That’s right, Tiffany. I heard your child died so tragically because you committed too many sins.”

“To make it into a relic, I even kept it in a church for a whole month to absorb light!”

“Tell me, could the fact that you can’t conceive now, that even IVF won’t work, be because this child resents you?”

Her words pierced my heart, tearing flesh and blood as if with claws.

I slammed her onto the table, drew my dagger, and sliced across her face.

“Did the priest tell you that today you would meet a blood calamity?”

“Evie, I had originally wanted to let you go, but you are asking for death!”

With a flick of my wrist, blood blossomed across her face like a cruel, dark flower.

Just as the dagger neared her neck, Zavier kicked it away with a sharp force.

“Enough! How long are you going to keep making trouble?”

Before his words faded, I drew a gun and pressed it to Evie’s forehead.

The fury in his eyes deepened. “Tiffany! Was what Evie said wrong?”

“Look at what you’ve become! How are you any different from a lunatic?”

“If it weren’t for you insisting on going out to kill that night, would the child have died? When will you ever reflect on your own mistakes?”

The gun in my hand trembled violently, almost firing. I shook uncontrollably, every fiber of me quivering.

He knew as well as I did why our child had died. Those enemies, hunting revenge, were after him.

First, they found my parents’ villa and slaughtered them, then strung their bodies in front of the house to lure Zavier out.

When that failed, they dragged me from the basement and used the child as leverage, forcing me to call him. I called, but he didn’t answer.

They thought I was only his lover, so they chose to vent all their hatred on me. Hundreds of thugs came, planning to humiliate me, to film it, and send it to Zavier.

But they underestimated a mother’s will to protect her child. They all died, horribly.

That night, I wept endlessly, clutching my parents’ corpses. With my bare hands, I dug them a grave in front of the villa until my ten fingertips were shredded and bleeding. Through the long hours of digging, Zavier knelt beside me in silence.

By dawn, the child had been cut out, already without breath.

He cradled the child and knelt before me for three days and three nights. “Tiffany, from this moment, this life is yours. My blood will only flow for you.”

I pressed a cigarette butt into Evie’s chest, my smile cruel and jagged.

“You’re right. It’s all my fault. My gravest mistake was trusting your lies.”

Evie wailed and threw herself into Zavier’s arms. “She’s already lost her mind!”

Zavier’s eyes never left mine, his gaze tense and fixed.

The moment I reached into my pocket, his muscles tightened in alert, but when I pulled out the cemetery order, his guard eased at last.

“I intended to move the child closer to us, but… it seems unnecessary now.”

Pain flickered in his eyes as he obediently held out his hand.

The next second, my dagger cut through his index finger, sending it to the floor.

I pressed it under my foot and let out a wild laugh.

“Do you think you deserve this? Zavier, this is what you owe me! I’ll reclaim it, piece by piece… slowly!”

I toyed with the dagger and leaned close to Evie.

Zavier, who hadn’t flinched even when his finger was cut off, instantly panicked and threw himself over her protectively.

“Don’t touch her! Tiffany, don’t force me to fight you with my life!”

That look, that tone, dragged me back to the bloody night five years ago.

That night, when the enemies came, all ten bodyguards in the villa were killed. Their leader demanded that Xavier hand me over, promising that if they had their fun, he would be spared.

His eyes were red as he shielded me, forcing himself to stand against them all. And he had said the exact same words. “Don’t force me to risk my life. I’m afraid there aren’t enough of you to die.”

Then he had turned, gently covering my eyes with a silk scarf. “Don’t look. Your brother is here. To bleed for you, I’m willing.”

Too many people had died that night. By the end, I had grown numb to the screams echoing around me.

At dawn, I discovered he had already prepared a plane ticket for me, one way, and only for me.

Blood dripped slowly from his severed finger, each drop striking my ears like a drum.

He tore a piece of his shirt and expertly bound the wound. “Tiffany, don’t force me to hate you.”

The memory overlapped with eight years ago.

When he had chopped off my boyfriend’s hands, he had smiled at me and whispered, “Tiffany, hate me. If you can’t love me, at least hate will make you remember me.”

Perhaps our relationship had twisted from that very moment, a wrong beginning, destined never to have a good ending.

Evie pulled the gun from Zavier’s waist, trembling so violently her movements were chaotic.

“If you dare hurt Zavier, I won’t let you live!”

Too bad the fool hadn’t even known how to pull the trigger.

I advanced step by step as she screamed frantically, panic dripping from every word. In a flash, I struck her wrist and wrenched the gun into my own hand.

I leveled it at her forehead.

Evie collapsed like rotting flesh, clutching her head as she crouched in terror, her screams piercing the air.

“If you want revenge, know your place. Zavier, your taste is appalling.”

I took the ashes with me and left the chaos behind.

But Zavier didn’t return home, and likely never would again.

A night passed, and the world outside whispered that I had fallen from favor, that the blooddrenched demon who licked knives had been replaced.

For Evie, he had reformed himself, even going to prison to apologize one by one to those he had wronged, all in the name of accumulating virtue for their next child.

He reshaped the company, cutting every tie to the Morrison family. But I knew the only person he truly wanted to sever—was me.

He could shower Evie with gemstones worth tens of millions without hesitation. At a single word from her, he would spend recklessly to build a church.

When I heard the news, I laughed until I doubled over, tears streaming down my face.

“Denver, do you think God would even dare live in a man like that’s church?”

Denver said nothing.

But I understood, we had long since lost any protection from God. We were destined to dwell forever in darkness and blood.

He did so much, so much, for Evie, and I only pretended not to see.

Then the doctor’s message arrived. Evie was pregnant again, and Zavier was overjoyed, convinced it was the blessing of building the church.

He began preparing their wedding, blocked my number, and let only his lawyer contact me about the divorce.

I handed the phone to Denver.

“Sir has really gone too far this time. Tiffany, are you truly going to divorce?”

I shook my head. “In my life, there is no divorce. Only widowhood.”

“He wants a wedding, doesn’t he? Then I’ll give him a wedding.”

The night before their wedding, Evie sent me a message.

[I told you long ago, you can’t conceive because of your sins. But I am different from you.]

[Tiffany, give up. Zavier can only be mine.]

I laughed, cold and low.

She wanted Zavier, the man. What I wanted was his life.

On the wedding day, the hall was packed with guests, the same people who had once witnessed my wedding with Zavier.

He drove the wedding car to the hotel to pick up the bride. The door opened, the light dimmed, and a figure in pure white appeared, her back ethereal, like an angel.

He rushed forward, impatience blazing, and embraced what he thought was his salvation.

“Evie, thank you….”

In that instant, he turned, and blood burst forth.

My cunning smile was revealed.

The lights flared on, and the floor was no longer covered with red petals, but with rivers of blood.