Echoes of Vengeance: The Sweet Wife's Perfect Revenge-Chapter 216: The Sweet Wife’s Perfect Revenge

Back at the penthouse, everything was too quiet.

The elevators opened to the warm glow of the living room, but the silence pressed on Aveline like another weight she wasn't prepared to carry. They didn't speak. Both disappeared into the bathroom, washing off the smoke, the dust, the fear clinging to their skin.

By the time Aveline changed and stepped out, Alaric was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He simply lifted the duvet, silently commanding her to go to him.

Aveline didn't hesitate. She moved into his arms, letting his warmth wrap around her. The duvet cocooned them, sealing them away from everything outside.

She could feel his heartbeat. It steadied something inside her, but it did not stop the fear.

What if he thought she was lying?

What if he thought her mad?

What if this brought distance between them?

The questions crowded at the edge of her mind. She had rehearsed confessions in her head for months, yet the fear gripped her throat.

Alaric waited. He neither pushed her nor forced her.

The clock on the bedside table read 03:07 when he whispered, "Tell me."

Her breath trembled. Alaric felt her fingers curl slowly into his shirt, as if she feared he would vanish if she let go.

"I knew things." She swallowed hard. Her throat felt raw. For a long moment, she just watched the dark skyline and tried to steady her breath. "Things no one should know," she added.

His hand tightened once against her back, not in alarm but in attention.

"I knew about your software before you announced it. I knew Damien and his men would steal it. I knew Scarlett would be hurt. I knew Madam Ashford would collapse. I knew Grandmother would fall ill." Each name landed like a stone she had been holding too long.

Alaric felt her weight shift in his arms. He listened to each word carefully, as if his life depended on it.

"Because I lived it," she whispered. Every inch of her urged her to look at him, but she was too scared to face it.

"I lived two years with Damien. Two years of losing everything. The Laurents' bankruptcy. Scarlett's accident. Madam Ashford dying in front of me. Grandmother Celeste gravely ill, unable to afford treatment. Unaware of it all, I lived like a fool in a hospital, manipulated by Damien, who brought Vivienne into our lives. And the doctor… killing me."

She took a shallow breath. She could feel him frozen. Her fingers clutched his tighter, not daring to loosen.

"I died, Alaric. But it didn't end there. I... I woke up two months into my marriage as if it were just a nightmare. I don't know how to explain it better. Nothing made sense. I knew too many details. I knew people I shouldn't have known."

Her voice gained a bit of life. "I wanted to tell Damien..." Her voice broke on the name. "...but I saw him rush out as if his life was on the line. Then I saw him with Vivienne. That broke everything… the illusion, my foolishness, his facade."

Her eyes sharpened, recalling how Scarlett helped her figure it out. "And things changed. I put on a facade. The facade of a sweet wife. The gullible wife Damien had turned me into. For the perfect revenge. And that's how I changed Scarlett's destiny. The Laurents' fate. My life. But…"

Her voice dropped, her words laced with guilt. "…I did nothing for Madam Ashford in this life. And now Grandmother Celeste is hospitalized…"

She broke completely, clutching him like something inside her was tearing apart. "I keep changing people's destinies. And someone else ends up taking the fall."

She stopped, and the room filled with her sharp inhalations as she tried to hold back the tears that tracked down her cheeks. Her words spilled raw and jagged.

"I thought if I fixed this, if I fixed that… maybe I could protect everyone. But every time I turn to something, someone else falls. If I keep living, am I killing others in my place? Am I stealing futures to buy my own?" She choked on her words.

Alaric did not answer at once. He counted her words like small things to be cataloged. He remembered the way she had panicked at the beeps of the hospital monitoring machine. The time she "knew" a lot of things in a way that made no sense.

She had sounded strange back then. Or prophetic. Now it all made sense. Yet it was beyond understanding.

Travel back in time?

That makes no sense. Yet he was happy to know she got the second chance, the chance to fight.

Aveline sensed his pause and feared the worst. Instead, Alaric lifted his hand and cupped her face.

His thumb rubbed slow circles against her jaw. Up close, he could see the exhaustion drawn into the corners of her eyes, the tiny tremor that didn't stop even when she tried to steady herself.

Now he knew why she chose him despite knowing he was a friend of Damien's. She was too bold back then to protect the ones she loved. Now he watched her become small and terrible with guilt, guilt for things she did not cause.

"You did the right thing," he murmured, more to himself than to her, and the simple admission held the weight of proof.

Her breath hitched. "You believe me?"

Alaric closed his eyes for a second, the kind of small, human pause that showed he was thinking through more than words. He had evidence, small, odd threads that connected facts she claimed to know.

He had watched events unfold the way she had predicted, until coincidence had no chance left. It was absurd, and it was true. He had no neat explanation, only the picture of a woman who had seen too much and came back bruised by it.

"I don't understand how," he said finally, voice low and careful. "But I know you. And I know you are not making this up."

Her shoulders trembled. She wanted to laugh at the irony that the man who built empires, caused chaos, and brought silence, believed her when the rest of the world could never.

Alaric squeezed her hand. "Listen to me, Sunshine. Vivienne Sinclair lost a child because of her greed. The Ashfords suffered because of their lies. Theodore is responsible for so many deaths. Not you."

She swallowed, throat raw. "But…"

He cut her off. "You can't let the past keep deciding the present. We do what we must to stop the people who try to hurt us. And we…" He paused, meeting her eyes. "...we face the rest together."

She looked up at him, eyes moist. He believed her, and that belief felt like oxygen.

"You will not be alone," he added. "Not anymore."

She let out a small sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. The muscles in her face loosened. The tremor in her chest eased. The dark that had tightened at the back of her throat began to loosen.

Slowly, she nodded, going back to his arms, resting her head on his chest. Her lids drooped in exhaustion, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat carried her into sleep.

Alaric did not move as she slipped away. He stayed awake long after her breath softened into sleep.

When he finally rose, he eased out of the bed without waking her. He walked to the window. Below, Velmora's lights spread, humming, indifferent.

He thought of Damien. The memory of Aveline's two years with Damien tightened something in him; it was a cruel, a wound he had not known was his until now.

Alaric's jaw set. He watched the city long enough for the image of prison bars to appear in his mind. He felt no mercy for the man who had hurt her, bruised her, and made her live through death.

"Damien Ashford," he whispered into the dark, the sound small and cold. "You will live a very long time in hell before you die."