Cinderella's Revenge
Dumped by her fiancé just days before their wedding, only to watch him marry someone else-what would you do? Cry yourself to sleep, or dress to kill for revenge?
That was Elaina's reality. She's no Cinderella, yet she lost a shoe while recklessly crashing her ex's wedding. Her revenge plan went up in flames, but fate had other ideas, throwing her into the path of Alister-a man who is handsome, charismatic, and dangerous... and ironically, the person closest to her ex-fiancé.
Amidst heartbreak and vendettas, Alister paints her world in new colors, turning Elaina into a modern-day Cinderella. But will this story end in "happily ever after," or is Alister merely leading her into a much more dangerous game?
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Chapter 5
The sudden assault sent Elaina’s eyes wide. Her body reacted instinctively, as if she had forgotten how to breathe. Her heart hammered against her ribs, the sound so thunderous it echoed in her own ears.
The searing kiss claimed her lips, deepening into a hunger that left her breathless. Her body stiffened, and she frantically pressed her hands against his chest. With every ounce of strength she had left, Elaina shoved Alister away. The force finally created a distance between them, though her limbs continued to tremble.
Elaina wiped her mouth, the lingering sensation of his lips only heightening her unrest. When she spoke, her voice was a fragile, jagged thing. Her gaze locked onto Alister’s, demanding an explanation for the line he had just crossed.
“Sir... what on earth was that?” she stammered.
Alister simply smirked. “A morning kiss. And you called me 'Sir.' Does that mean you remember what we did last night?”
His smile and the predatory glint in his eyes seemed to paralyze her. Elaina stood frozen, her face flushing a deep crimson as she clutched the edges of her towel, terrified it might slip. She couldn't help but notice how handsome he was—the light dusting of hair on his chest, and the intricate tattoo that started on his arm and snaked down toward his waist. She didn't understand the meaning of the ink, but a flash of memory hit her: last night, she had traced that very chest with desperate passion.
“Sir... do we even know each other?”
Alister nodded. “Since last night. Do you remember my name?” His slight smile deepened, revealing a faint dimple partially hidden by his stubble.
Elaina searched her clouded memory before nodding slowly. “Alister.”
“And do you remember what you did at the hotel?”
Elaina nodded again, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Yes. I went to Fidell’s wedding.”
“And who is he?”
“My... my ex-fiancé.”
Alister suppressed a grin. “You crashed your ex-fiancé’s wedding. You caused a scene while completely wasted. If I hadn't carried you out of there, security would have tossed you onto the pavement like trash. Do you remember that?”
Elaina bit her lip and closed her eyes as the fragments of the night before crashed back into her mind. She let out a soft, defeated sigh. She regretted everything. The alcohol she had used for liquid courage had stripped her of all control. Her plan was to unleash her rage on Fidell, but a bottle of Vodka Martini had rewritten the script.
She realized how reckless she had been. The alcohol had blurred her judgment and made her body betray her. Shame washed over her; she never imagined she would end up in a situation like this.
Yet, beneath the regret, she had to admit one thing: if it weren't for Alister, she would be stranded on the streets. The thought of what could have happened without him made her shudder. He was right—he had saved her from a much darker night.
Elaina looked down, her voice barely audible as she whispered a thank you. The words were so soft they seemed meant only for her. She knew a simple "thank you" wasn't enough to repay him, but it was an admission that she was now in his debt.
Alister tilted her chin up, studying her suddenly somber expression. “Did Fidell hurt you?”
Elaina nodded, then her eyes went wide. “Sir, do you know Fidell?”
“Ah, I work at Cakrawala Group.”
“Oh, I see. So you were invited to the wedding too?”
“Of course. That’s how I found you.”
Elaina sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. “I must have been an embarrassment last night.”
“A little,” Alister admitted, stepping toward a wardrobe. He pulled out a small towel and handed it to her. “But I got you out before you did something you couldn't take back. Here, use this. Your hair is soaking.”
Elaina took it with a shy smile. She wanted to sit down, but the awkwardness of being semi-naked in a stranger's bedroom was suffocating. Alister stepped closer, sending her pulse into another erratic rhythm.
“Do you want me to help you?”
Elaina looked up, confused. “Help me with what?”
“Getting even with Fidell.”
Confused, Elaina stared at him. Her eyes practically screamed, How could a man like you help me?
Alister smiled, sensing her doubt. “I can. But we’ll do it my way. Like two consenting adults who need each other.” His fingers brushed against her collarbone, a light, teasing touch. “Don’t get drunk again, Elaina. You’re dangerous when you’re wasted. Last night, if I had taken advantage of you, you’d be lying in that bed right now, exhausted from making love.”
Elaina turned beet-red, her chest tight with embarrassment.
“It’s not that I didn't want to,” Alister said, closing the gap until their bodies nearly touched. “You’re beautiful and sexy. But I want to do it when you’re sober. That’s why we’re going to make a deal to help you get your revenge.”
Elaina swallowed hard, biting her lower lip. Her skin felt electric under his gaze and the warmth of his breath. “Does that mean... we have to sleep together?” she asked nervously.
Alister nodded without hesitation. “Naturally. As a couple. Even if your only reason for being with me is revenge, I don’t care. We will act like a real, mature couple. Do you understand?”
Elaina stared at him, her mind spinning. She was furious with Fidell, but was faking a relationship with a stranger a fair trade? And Alister had emphasized a "mature" relationship—which meant more than just kisses; it meant sharing his bed. Could she actually do it?
“You don’t have to decide now. Think about it. Anyway, your dress is ruined. I hope I have something you can wear.” Alister opened the wardrobe, revealing rows of neat clothes. “Just t-shirts and dress shirts.”
Elaina looked at the organized closet and pointed to a short-sleeved navy blue shirt. “Can I borrow that?”
Alister handed it to her. “Put it on. I’ll be in the dining room. Breakfast is waiting.”
Elaina’s hands shook as she pulled on the shirt. Luckily, her lingerie was still clean. She looked sadly at her torn, dirt-stained gown—the one Fidell had bought her when they got engaged. It had been a beautiful dress, a perfect fit. Now, like his promises, it was trashed.
The heartache returned, sharp and cold. She stood before the mirror, looking at her disheveled reflection in the oversized shirt that barely reached her mid-thigh. It wasn't proper, but it was enough. She had to face the reality: Fidell was no longer hers. He was another woman’s husband.
So what do I do now? she wondered. Mourn a man who dumped me without a word? She felt like a fool, crying over a love that had already died.
She grabbed her clutch from the nightstand and tentatively opened the bedroom door. She gasped at the interior. It was breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, a massive sofa anchored the living space, and floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city.
“This looks like a penthouse, not just an apartment,” Elaina remarked as Alister appeared from a side room.
Alister nodded. “It is.”
“Do you live here, Sir?” she asked.
“Temporarily. This place is a loan. Just like the car I drive—it belongs to the company.”
“I see.”
“Sit down. Food is on the table.”
They sat across from each other at a heavy, elegant wooden table. Elaina opened the containers and smiled at the sight of sandwiches, fruit salad, and garlic bread. It was exactly what she liked. How did he know?
She took a bite of the sandwich, savoring the savory mix of tuna, mayo, and a hint of chili. It was the best thing she’d tasted all morning. Alister, meanwhile, was devouring a beef burger.
“Your friend is very kind, Sir,” she said.
Alister looked up. “Why?”
“Lending you a place this luxurious.”
“Yes, he is. Finish your food; we have a lot to discuss. I don’t need you fainting from hunger.”
They ate in silence. Elaina stole glances at him as he read something on his iPad. He was magnetic. Up close, his eyes weren't black, but a deep, warm brown. A handsome, single man... was he a manager at Cakrawala?
“Elaina...”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Stop staring at me. You’re making me want to take my clothes off.”
“Wh—what? Why?”
“Because the view is much clearer when I’m naked.”
Elaina immediately looked down at her plate, her face burning. She told herself to be careful with this man. It was as if Alister could read her every thought.
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9.1
Julian Laurent was known as the most notorious playboy in Rivermont, changing girlfriends as often as he changed his clothes and treating marriage like a joke.
Clara Sterling, on the other hand, had always been the most quiet and obedient daughter of the Sterling family. Raised as the heir since childhood, she had been flawless in every word and every gesture.
A family-arranged marriage forced these two complete opposites into the same life.
On their wedding night, Julian openly made out with a young model at a nightclub.
For the first time, Clara cast aside her propriety, slapping him and demanding a divorce on the spot.
But before the next day was over, their families had forced them to remarry.
This time, Julian managed to stay faithful for a month before he cheated again.
Clara filed for divorce once more, cutting ties with him completely.
However, that very same day, it was revealed that Clara was not the real daughter of the Sterling family, and she was thrown out.
At her lowest point, Julian found her and solemnly promised to protect her from then on.
They remarried again, and from that day forward, the scandals surrounding Julian ceased.
Everyone said Clara was lucky. Even her best friend insisted that Julian had truly settled down, and Clara believed it.
Until she saw him in a hospital corridor, holding her best friend's hand, his voice strained with deep emotion, "I never liked her. You're the one I've always loved!"
It turned out all of his tenderness had been a lie.
This time, she walked away and never looked back.
And the man who had once treated her as disposable only realized after she was gone that he had long since drowned in her quiet love, unable to escape.
8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?"
A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?"
I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me.
"The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?"
Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."
8.4
I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen.
But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg.
She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini.
"I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog."
Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull.
Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage.
She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic.
"He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!"
When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever.
My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust.
I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle.
I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes.
This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.
9.2
She loved him until she lost herself.
Now, behind locked doors and shattered glass, she must learn to breathe again.
When she first met Lloyd, he was magnetic and intoxicating. The kind of man who turned every head when he entered a room, who spoke in promises sweet enough to taste. With him, she felt chosen, cherished, and safe.
But safety was an illusion, and love became a weapon.
And slowly, piece by piece, he dismantled her until nothing of the woman she once was remained.
Now institutionalized after a breakdown, she begins to piece together the brutal truth of what really happened in the shadows of their love story. Memories sting like open wounds: the manipulation disguised as tenderness, the apologies that blurred into threats, the desperate hope that tomorrow he'd be the man she fell for again.
Yet beneath the grief and the shame, a quiet rebellion stirs, a vow to reclaim her voice, her freedom, and her life. Because this is not just a story of how she fell apart. It is a story of how she rises.
Haunting, raw, and achingly intimate, Boys like him peels back the glittering mask of a toxic love affair to reveal the kind of darkness that hides in plain sight, and the unbreakable strength it takes to escape it.
9.2
Clara was drowning in student debt and barely making rent when she downloaded a fantasy mobile game to escape reality.
Inside the game, an exiled prince named Alex was freezing to death. Pitying him, she spent her last few dollars on microtransactions to fix his shelter and cure his poison.
But the game was far too real.
Every time she paid, the prince reacted. When she complained aloud about going broke, the in-game army suddenly halted, as if the prince had heard her voice.
Then, the terrifying real-world consequences hit.
Clara woke up to find her water glass and a box of Kleenex had vanished from her locked bedroom overnight.
She frantically searched the tiny apartment, her heart pounding in her chest.
She thought she was losing her mind. Had she thrown them out in her sleep? Was there a stalker hiding in her home?
How could physical objects just disappear into thin air behind a deadbolted door?
Until she looked at her nightstand.
Sitting exactly where her missing items used to be was a glowing, weightless crystal cup that defied all logic.
And on her laptop screen, the exiled prince was carefully holding her Kleenex box, offering a mountain of real gold on an altar.
She hadn't just downloaded a mobile game; she had opened a cross-dimensional trade route with a desperate future king.
9.1
He postponed putting my name on the deed 18 times.
Each time, his mentee Ciera had an “emergency.” Each time, he ran to her.
I watched him give her his prized Montblanc pen—the one he wouldn’t even let me borrow. I saw her post their late nights on Instagram. I ate anniversary dinners alone while he “mentored” her.
Then he bought me a necklace—identical to the one she just flaunted online.
That was when I stopped feeling anything.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I simply packed two suitcases, resigned from our firm, and booked a one-way ticket to London.
He thinks I’m coming back in a week.
He has no idea I’m gone for good.
Nineteen broken promises. One silent goodbye. And a new life waiting across the ocean.