I WANTED REVENGE HE GAVE ME A BABY

Chapter One

Amelia’s POV

Valentine’s Eve.

It was supposed to be love. It was supposed to be soft and sweet and filled with kisses and flowers. But all I got was pain which was raw and deep. It was the kind that cracks your chest open without warning.

I didn’t tell Nathan I was coming. That was the whole point. I wanted to surprise him, the kind of sweet, dumb thing girls in love do. I’d spent hours getting ready, even slipped into that red silk dress—the one with the low back and that slit up my thigh he used to say drove him crazy. I curled my hair. Sprayed his favorite perfume. I had flowers in one hand, and in the other, a small black box with the bracelet he once mentioned in passing. I had it custom made. Silver. Clean. Something I thought he’d smile over.

I was smiling, too. Stupidly. My chest was light, bubbling with hope.

I thought maybe today was the day. I overheard him on the phone with his best friend last week, talking about “making it official.” My heart had been living off those words ever since. I redid my nails just in case.

I wanted to look my best... just in case he had a ring.

I walked into his apartment, grinning like a child on Christmas morning. And then I stopped.

What I heard first wasn’t his voice.

It was moaning, which was loud. Sharp.

It sounded like a woman’s voice. Breathy and raw.

At first, I just stood there. My smile froze. I didn’t move.

Then I waved it off. maybe it was the TV, I told myself.

Maybe some dumb video he left playing.

But deep down, I already knew something wasn't right.

I stepped closer. And when I saw them, my heart dropped so fast it felt like it ripped on the way down.

Nathan! He was naked. Right there. His head between the thighs of my half-sister, Rose.

In our bed. Our supposed marital bed.

My hands went slack. The box slipped on the ground. The flowers fell. They hit the ground like everything else in my world had just done and shattered.

They didn’t stop. Not even then.

It was Rose who noticed me first. She looked up. No shock on her face. No shame at all. She smirked.

Smirked!

Nathan looked up next. He looked like a boy caught stealing. His mouth opened, like he had something to say. But I didn’t want to hear a damn thing.

“What the fuck?!” I screamed as I stepped forward, my head was turning.

“Amelia—” he started, voice tight, but I was already moving.

I slapped Rose hard across the face because I was filled with both anger, betrayal and embarrassment.

She gasped, holding her cheek, and I don’t regret it for one damn second. But before I could take a step back, Nathan grabbed my wrist and shoved me.

Then he slapped me.

Full, Sharp and Intentional.

I stumbled backward, grabbed my cheek, and blinked in shock.

My body stayed upright, but my soul? My soul cracked open like glass. He hit me. Nathan hit me. For her. Never in his life would I think he would raise his hand on my face.

“Don’t touch her!” he barked, eyes wide like I was the one in the wrong.

My voice came out in a broken yell. “Are you fucking serious right now?! You’re defending her?! You cheated on me with my sister, and now you want to play the hero?!”

Rose sat up, calm as ever, brushing her hair out of her face. Her voice was cold, smooth, and cruel. “He feels alive with me. Something you never made him feel.”

My mouth dried. My chest hurts. My knees buckled a little, but I didn’t fall. I couldn’t even cry. There were no tears left. Just shaking breath, a racing heart, and a silence that rang louder than any scream.

I ran.

I didn’t plan to. I didn’t think so. I just turned and ran.

Not just out the door—but down the stairs, into the night, past the pain. I ran in heels that started to cut into my skin. I ran until I saw the first open bar, and I walked in like a woman possessed.

The place was dim. Music low. People minding their own.

I didn’t care how I looked. My lipstick was smeared. My hair was wild.

My dress clung to my body like it didn’t want to let go.

I looked like someone who had been through hell—and maybe I really had.

I walked straight to the bar,

sat down without a word,

and asked for the strongest drink they had.

Then I told the bartender,

"Don’t stop pouring.”

I didn’t come to make friends. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want comforting lies or drunk advice. I just wanted the voices in my head to shut up. I wanted to stop seeing Nathan between her thighs every time I blinked.

Somewhere around the third glass, someone slid into the stool beside me. I didn’t look at first.

“Rough night?” he asked. His voice was low, deep, with a rasp that sounded like pain.

I turned to face him. He was tall. Dark-haired.

His face was messy but still handsome. A bit rough, with some scars. Like something nice that got damaged.

His eyes looked tired. Full of pain.

“Worst night of my life,” I said, and raised my glass.

“Same,” he said, raising his own. “To betray.”

We clinked glasses. No names. No stories. Just pain shared in silence.

But I told him anyway. I spilled it all. Every ugly detail. My sister. Nathan. The slap.

The way he gave my heart back—shattered into pieces. At first, my voice shook. But by the end, I was laughing, bitter and broken.

He didn’t even flinch. Just nodded. “Caught my fiancée screwing someone else.” He showed me a picture.

I blinked. “Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Then he looked at me. Really looked. Like he saw every crack in me. And softly, like a dare, he said, “Wanna forget tonight with me?”

I didn’t answer with words.

I just nodded.

Next thing I knew, we were in a hotel room.

I tore off that red dress. His hands were everywhere in my bdoy—my waist, my neck, my thighs.

I didn’t care. I wanted the noise. I wanted chaos. I wanted to feel everything I witnessed Rose and Nathan felt.

He kissed me like he wanted me gone.

I kissed him like I didn’t want to be here anymore.

I moaned when his lips dropped to my neck.

My hands grabbed his shirt, pulled it hard. I reached down and fumbled with his belt.

He laid me on the bed, rough and rushed. His eyes were heavy, dark, like he needed this bad.

He touched me down there, slow at first. His fingers moved gently, like he was feeling every part. He didn’t rush. Just stayed there, dragging it out, like he wanted to hear every sound I made.

My back arched without control.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered.

“Fuck me,” I said, barely above a breath. “Hard.”

He pushed in deep and fast. I gasped, legs wrapping around his waist. His thrusts were rough. Clean. Every movement felt like he was punching the pain out of me. Our bodies clashed. My nails scratched down his back. The sound of skin against skin filled the room.

“Harder,” I begged. He didn’t even hesitate.

He gave me everything the way I wanted it, going in and out with speed.

There was no holding back. No sweetness. Just raw, dirty as needed. My body shook, my ass hurt.

I could feel my moans filling the space, begging him for a stop. I cried out as I came, my back arching off the bed. I felt my eyes squeezed shut.

He came right after that, groaning against my neck and another round of kisses before collapsing beside me.

We lay there in silence. Breathless and filled with our sweaty bodies entangled.

And for the first time since I saw them… I didn’t feel pain.

I felt nothing.

And somehow, that was better.

He looked at me, brushed my hair back gently, and asked, “No names?”

“No names,” I said, still staring at the ceiling.

Because this wasn’t about remembering anything.

This was about forgetting everything. Every pathetic thing that happened today.