To Get Revenge on My Bully I Decided to Seduce Her Fiancé Chapter 01

To Get Revenge on My Bully I Decided to Seduce Her Fiancé Chapter 01

Beneath my short video, a girl tagged her boyfriend to watch.

[Step aside, my man loves this type. Let him go first!]

When I tapped on her profile, I froze.

She was the girl who’d bullied me in high school.

Years had passed, but I would never forget that face.

I stayed up all night scrolling through every last one of her posts, then clicked on the boyfriend she’d tagged.

I sent a DM.

[Hi there.]

***

Before I saw Sloane Covington again, I’d imagined a hundred versions of what her life must look like now.

I thought bad people got what they deserved. That she’d be miserable, broke, scraping by.

I was wrong.

Her feed was a parade of luxury: one night at Cheval Blanc Randheli, a five-figure-a-night resort, the next chasing auroras in Northland, then speeding down the Pacific Coast in her sports car at golden hour.

Her latest photo showed her perched in a black Rolls-Royce, head-to-toe Chanel, grinning right at the camera.

Not a single worry lined her face.

She looked like she had it all.

But why her? Why did she get to have everything?

I stared hard at her smile on the screen.

Slowly, it warped into her 17-year-old self in high school, laughing as she slapped me across the face.

She slapped me again and again, until her hand stung, then let the girls behind her take over.

She held up her phone to my swollen, bleeding face and jeered,

“Smile for the camera, Elena. Don’t you love acting like a total skank? What’s wrong, cat got your tongue now?”

She wrenched my hair back, her smile stretching wider.

“Smile!”

Sloane’s hatred for me started when the guy she liked gave me a birthday gift.

On my birthday, he’d handed me a vintage Dior saddle bag—said his mom brought it, worth over three thousand dollars.

I’d panicked and refused to take it, so he huffed and tossed it at me, said I could throw it out if I didn’t want it.

I stood there frozen, holding the bag, when Sloane walked in.

She snatched it out of my hands, stared at it for a second, then laughed.

A twisted, cold laugh that made my skin crawl.

“I begged him for three months for this bag. Three months. And he was saving it for you?”

She lifted her eyes to me.

The look in them made every hair on my arms stand up.

“Elena. Well, aren’t you the sneaky little clever one?”

After that, Sloane made it her mission to make my life hell.

The worst part of every day was dismissal.

I never knew when she and her friends would corner me in the bathroom, then beat me and humiliate me for hours.

I lived in constant terror.

Nightmares woke me up every single night.

But I couldn’t tell anyone.

My parents split when I was young, both moving on to new families and new lives.

Both had new families, new lives.

The only person who’d taken me in was my grandma, Rose Delvecchio, who walked with a limp.

She ran Mama Rose’s Deli, working from dawn till dusk just to pay my way through school.

I was one of the few scholarship students at Westbrook Academy, admitted on a full-merit scholarship, with tuition waived for my grades.

I couldn’t go to the teachers. Sloane had threatened to go after my grandma.

And I knew the school would look the other way for someone with her family’s money and power.

So I studied harder.

I thought that if I could get into a good college, I’d finally be able to leave.

Leave this place forever.

But even that small hope was taken from me.

The night before the SATs, Sloane locked me in the bathroom again.

This time, she made her friends strip me and take photos.

I was trapped there all night.

I had no idea the pictures were already spreading all over Snapchat and local group chats by midnight.

I had no idea someone had gone to Mama Rose’s Deli and shown Grandma the photos on purpose.

Grandma was frantic.

She waited and waited for me to come home, then limped all the way to school to find me.

She was in such a hurry that she didn’t look both ways crossing the street.

An overworked semi-truck driver hit and ran over her. She died instantly.

I didn’t find out until the janitor let me out the next morning.

My head throbbed, and spots danced across my vision.

I crumpled to the floor, my mind going totally blank.

When I woke up, I was in the hospital.

In one day, I’d lost my shot at a future—and the only family I had left.

I barely remember anything after that.

I think my brain blocked it all out to protect itself.

I do remember a teacher visiting me. I heard her say to someone in the hallway, voice full of pity,

“She was Ivy League material. Total waste of potential.”

Sloane got off scot-free.

A single lecture in the principal’s office, that was it.

Her dad, Theodore Covington, was a local business tycoon—one of the city’s biggest taxpayers.

The principal didn’t dare cross him.

I used what little money we had left to bury Grandma.

I couldn’t afford to retake the SATs, so I took a part-time job to get by.

Sloane was sent to college in the States.

Her perfect life just kept going.

I sat on my bed in the dark, staring up at the ceiling.

I’d spent a lot of nights like that, back when things were the worst.

Life got easier after that.

I made money, got my online degree from Southern New Hampshire University, and saved up enough to open my own Etsy and Shopify boutique.

I modeled my own clothes.

Turns out I was pretty, and I rode the wave at just the right time.

The business blew up. I was financially free.

I thought I’d forgotten. I thought I could start over.

But the second I saw Sloane’s face, I knew.

I’d never let it go.

I hated her. With every fiber of my being.

I sat there until dawn.

Finally, my stiff fingers tapped open the account she’d tagged.

It was a minimalist profile picture—just a few clean lines.

No videos, no posts.

But I figured out who he was fast.

Harrison Sterling. Sloane’s fiancé.

The Covingtons had nearly gone broke while she was in college.

Their family was brought back from the brink by a marriage alliance—the Sterlings were their meal ticket.

He was the reason Sloane got to live like this now.

Sloane didn’t recognize me.

Funny, isn’t it?

She was the one who dragged me straight to hell with her own hands. I saw her face in every nightmare.

But she’d already forgotten I existed.

She’d even tagged her own fiancé under my video.

I tapped the message icon next to Harrison’s profile.

Thought for a second. I sent one line.

[Hi there.]