Rejected by Three, I Chose Revenge Chapter 18
The letter arrived on cream-colored paper, sealed with three different wax stamps-one bearing the Cole family crest, another with the Hayes racing emblem
and the third marked with Damien’s medical insignia. Even in their desperation, they couldn’t resist the theatrics of their privileged upbringing
I held the envelope in my hands, feeling its weight. Lucas had delivered it personally, his expression carefully neutral as he placed it on my desk in the newly renovated Whitman Group executive suite. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see the city sprawling below-a kingdom I now ruled, built on the
ashes of those who had underestimated me.
“Should I stay while you read if?” Galeb asked from behind his desk, his voice carrying that protective edge I’d grown to love
I shook my head, breaking the seals with deliberate precision. “No. This is something I need to face alone.
The letter unfolded to reveal three pages of handwritten text, each section in a different hand. Jaxson’s aggressive scrawl came first, followed by Ethan’s hurried script, and finally Damien’s precise medical penmanship. Despite their different writing styles, the tone was uniformly pathetic.
*Hazel,*
*We know we have no right to ask for your forgiveness, but we need you to understand the truth about what happened. We were pawns in a game we didn’t fully comprehend, manipulated by forces beyond our control.*
I almost laughed at the opening. Even in their apology, they couldn’t resist casting themselves as victims.
*Jaxson Cole: My family’s investment firm was hemorrhaging money after the 2019 market crash. Richard Whitman approached my father directly, offering insider information on upcoming mergers in exchange for my ‘courtship’ of Vivian. He made it clear that any interest in you would be seen as a betrayal of our business relationship. I was twenty-two and terrified of losing everything my family had built. I chose cowardice over conscience, and I’ve regretted it every day since.*
My fingers tightened on the paper. So it had all been orchestrated from the beginning-Richard pulling strings, ensuring I remained isolated while Vivian collected admirers like trophies.
*Ethan Hayes: Vivian had evidence of my performance-enhancing drug use from my early racing days. She threatened to expose me unless I played along with her charade of being the beloved Whitman heiress. She said humiliating you was just ‘harmless fun; that you were used to being overlooked anyway. I was weak, Hazel. I chose my career over doing what was right, and watching you suffer while I stood by and laughed makes me sick with shame.*
The admission hit harder than I’d expected. Vivian hadn’t just been the passive beneficiary of my stolen life-she’d actively worked to ensure my misery. using blackmail and manipulation to turn potential allies against me.
*Dr. Damien Reed: I was providing illegal genetic enhancement treatments to several prominent families, including experimental therapies that could have cost me my medical license and freedom. Vivian discovered my activities and threatened exposure unless I participated in undermining your confidence and social standing. She specifically requested that I question your intelligence and worthiness at public events, claiming it was necessary to ‘maintain family harmony.’ I became complicit in psychological abuse, violating every oath I took as a physician.*
I set the letter down, my hands steady despite the rage building in my chest. They’d each had their reasons, their justifications, their excuses. But at the end of the day, they’d chosen to participate in my humiliation because it was easier than standing up to pressure.
The final paragraph was written in all three hands, their signatures intertwined in what I assumed was meant to be a gesture of unity:
“We don’t expect forgiveness. We don’t deserve it. But we needed you to know that our cruelty toward you was never about your worth-it was about our own cowardice and weakness. You were always the strongest person in every room, and we were too blinded by fear and ambition to see it. Watching you rise to claim what was rightfully yours has been both humbling and inspiring. We hope someday you can find peace, knowing that justice has been served.*
*With deepest regret and respect,*
*Jaxson Cole*
*Ethan Hayes*
*Dr. Damien Reed*
I folded the letter carefully, then walked to the executive suite’s fireplace. The flames danced hungrily as I held the pages above them, watching the edges
curl and blacken.
“Hazel” Caleb’s voice was gentle, questioning.
I let the letter fall into the fire, watching years of humiliation and pain turn to ash. “They’re already dust in my past, I said, turning to face him “I won’t waste another moment of our future dwelling on their pathetic attempts at redemption.”
Caleb’s eyes softened with something that looked like admiration mixed with relief. He rolled his wheelchair closer, reaching for my hand ‘You’re stronger than I ever imagined when we first met.”
“We both are.” I squeezed his fingers, feeling the calluses from years of pushing himself beyond his limitations. “Speaking of our future-have you given any more thought to the Swiss consultation?”
His expression shifted, becoming more guarded. We’d been dancing around this conversation for weeks. Dr. Henrik Zimmerman, the world’s leading neurosurgeon, had reviewed Caleb’s medical files and believed there was a seventy percent chance that cutting-edge spinal surgery could restore significant mobility to his legs.
“Hazel, the risks-”
“Are worth taking.” I knelt beside his wheelchair, bringing us to eye level. “You’ve spent years building empires from this chair, proving that strength isn’t about walking. But if there’s a chance for you to have that choice back, shouldn’t we take it?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “What if something goes wrong? What if I’m not the same person after?”
“Then we’ll figure it out together.” I brought his hand to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “You took a chance on a broken girl seeking revenge. Let me take a chance on the man I love getting everything he deserves.”
Something shifted in his expression-surprise, vulnerability, hope. “You love me.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Completely. Unconditionally. Whether you’re in this chair or walking or anything in between.”
Caleb pulled me closer, his forehead resting against mine. “Then call Dr. Zimmerman. Tell him we’ll be in Zurich next week.”
I smiled, feeling something lighter than triumph, warmer than revenge. This was what victory actually felt like-not the destruction of enemies, but the building of something beautiful with the person who mattered most.
“Consider it done,” I whispered, already mentally preparing for the journey that would either restore what he’d lost or prove that what we’d built together was stronger than any physical limitation.
Either way, we’d face it as partners, as equals, as two people who’d found something worth fighting for in each other.
