
Scarred Roses, Burning Vengeance
Debby Writes · Completed · 160.0k Words
Introduction
I laughed, thinking it was a joke, until I met his eyes. There was no humor there, only understanding.
"You want revenge," he said softly. "On Damian Blackwood and Vincent Moreau."
Eleanor Sinclair was once a delicate, passionate woman who loved deeply and believed in forever. But love turned to poison in the hands of Damian Blackwood, her ruthless, powerful husband. Under his cold indifference and cruel accusations, she lost everything—her dignity, her dreams, and the child she carried.
Left to die, Eleanor vanished from the world. Yet from the ashes of her pain, she was reborn—not as the woman who begged for love, but as the woman men would fear to cross. Hardened by vengeance and loss, she becomes the very shadow that haunts the underworld.
Now, years later, she returns—stronger, deadlier, and determined to destroy the man who destroyed her.
But Damian Blackwood has changed too. Ruthless, calculating, and haunted by his own regrets, he never imagined the woman he cast aside would become the storm that consumes him. The moment he sees her again, he realizes his greatest mistake: she was never weak. He was.
Now, he's willing to defy the world to win her back.
But Eleanor has no heart left to give—not when vengeance burns hotter than love.
He feels remorse.
She seeks revenge.
And this time, only one will survive the fire.
Chapter 1
FALLING
Eleanor's POV
SLAP!
The impact and sound of Damian's palm hit my cheek with such force that I tumbled backward. For a moment, my vision became blurry, and a strong pain ran through my face. The world around me turned around, the big chandeliers above turning into streaks of gold. Gasps filled the ballroom, followed by a suffocating and usual silence that felt like a heavy weight pressing down on me.
I pressed my fingers to my burning cheek, the sting only adding to my pain. While my ears rang from the blow, tingle tingle, the pounding of my heart was even louder. This couldn't be real. This couldn't possibly be happening to me.
Damian Blackwood, my husband, my love, my everything,g stood before me, his gaze filled with cold, unyielding fury, just like that of a dagger.
"You ungrateful whore! You bastard" he roared, his voice moving through my entire being.
I recoiled at the venom in his words. My lips twisted, trying to defend myself, but my throat felt dry and my mind was a blank and sorry slate.
The grand ballroom of the Blackwood Estate was packed with the city's elite wealthy businessmen, influential politicians, and high-society figures all of them were staring at me, their expressions filled with judgment and hate. The celebration was supposed to honor our anniversary, a night to honor our love. But love had vanished at that moment.
Because tonight, love had turned into betrayal, and that really hurt.
Damian held my wrist, drawing me closer with a strong and firm grip that felt like it could crush my bone into piece. "How dare you make me look foolish?" His fingers dug painfully into my skin like a lion claw.
Desperately, I shook my head. "Damian, please, I don't get it! What are you talking about?" My voice shook, barely above a whisper.
He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "You don't get it? Perhaps this will jog your memory, you stupid idiot."
Turning to his right, my stomach dropped as Vincent Moreau, Damian's closest associate and friend, stepped forward. His sharp, predatory look shined with satisfaction as he handed Damian a thick envelope. Damian tore it open and revealed a series of glossy naughty photographs.
He throws them to the floor at my feet.
I looked down, and the ground beneath me seemed to crumble.
There I was, Eleanor Sinclair Blackwood captured in various naughty images. But the woman in those pictures wasn't really me. She was in a hotel room, too close to another man's body, to f*cking close, smiling, resting on his shoulder. In one photo, my hand rested against his chest, caressing it; in another, our lips were almost touching each other.
A wave of icy and cold terror washed over me. "No... this can't be true!" I gasped for breath. "This is fabricated, Damian! I promise you!"
But he wasn't listening to me. He had already made up his mind.
"You make me sick," Damian spat, his once passionate eyes now void of emotion. "You were carrying another man's child while pretending to be my wife in my own home."
His words cut through me like a knife. I stumbled back, shaking my head unsteadily. "No, I would never do that"
Vincent sighed with exaggerated disappointment. "Tsk, tsk, Eleanor. Lying at this point is simply sad." He shook his head, smirking. "We have witnesses. The hotel manager saw you check in. The staff verified it was you."
Desperation moved inside me as I faced him. "You're lying! You set this up! You framed me!"
Vincent just smirked. "Prove it."
As my hands trembled, I reached for Damian. "You know me. You love me. You know I would never betray you!"
But Damian recoiled as if my touch burned him.
"You're no wife of mine," he said, his voice cold and firm. "You mean nothing to me."
The pain that followed was far worse than the slap. Far worse than all of his accusations. Because Damian wasn't just ending our marriage he was erasing me from his life entirely.
"Throw her out," he commanded.
Before I could understand what was happening, the guards moved forward. Strong hands seized me, dragging me toward the exit.
"Damian, please!" I cried out, struggling against them. "Just listen to me! I swear, I never betrayed you!"
But he turned his back on me.
He didn't even glance back as they led me away.
The door was closed behind me, and the chill and freeze of the night air brushed my unprotected skin like needles. My body was shaking from the cold, the shock, and the crushing realization that my world had just been dismantled, that my life had just been totally destroyed.
I stood outside the grand estate, my vision fading by unshed tears.
My life had been torn away.
I had no money, no family, no home.
The dress I wore- a custom piece that Damian had once admired on me- now felt like a cruel mockery. My hair was rough, and my face was swollen from tears and humiliation.
The rain began to fall lightly at first, then heavier, soaking me all through.
I couldn't move.
I had nowhere to go.
A sickening twist in my stomach served as a bitter reminder that I wasn't alone in this.
I placed a hand on my lower belly.
Our baby.
I had planned to tell Damian tonight. I had rehearsed the words over and over. But instead of sharing what should have been the happiest news of our lives, I had been discarded like trash, the pain...
I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to stand tall and still.
I needed to think. I needed to
A sharp clicking sound broke the silence.
Footsteps.
I turned just as a black SUV pulled up. The tinted windows rolled down, revealing Vincent's smirking face.
"Need a ride, sweetheart?" His voice filled with mockery.
I stepped back instantly. "Stay away from me, you bastard."
He laughed lightly. "Now, now, is that any way to speak to the man who just helped ruin your life?" My nails dug into my palms out of frustration. "Why are you doing this?"
Vincent leaned against the window, his smirk widening. "Because, Eleanor... I wanted to witness the moment you will finally fall."
Rage moved within me, but before I could respond, the back door of the SUV swung open. Two masked men came outside. Panic flooded through me. I turned to run.
But it was too late. One of them seized my wrist, pulling me back.
I screamed, kicking and thrashing, but they overpowered me. One of them pressed a cloth over my mouth, the sharp, sickly scent invading my senses. No. Not like this.
Darkness covered my vision. Damian, I thought faintly, before my world slipped into darkness....
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