Revenge on His Betrayal novel

My name is Ella Scott, and at twenty-three, my life should have been laid out on a red carpet.
The fishtail white wedding gown still hangs in the shop window; the delicate crystals around the neckline were chosen by Ben Luke and mehe said they made me look like moonlight under the sea.
Our wedding was set for late autumn; both families were longtime friends, perfectly matched in status and background, and our parents all smiled, calling us a match made in heaven.
After three years together, he would bring me brown sugar ginger tea in the dead of night and say, I'm here, whenever I was down. I once believed this love could weather every storm.
My father's company was the city's leader, specializing in import-export trade; my mother was gentle and virtuous.
My life sailed smoothlyI never understood what 'despair' meant.
Until that stormy evening, Calvin, my father's assistant, drenched from head to toe, rushed into the house bearing the dreadful news of a broken cash flow.
Our overseas partners withdrew their investments, domestic accounts were frozen, and dozens of receivables turned into bad debtsovernight, everything was reversed.
Creditors blocked the Company and our doorstep, holding signs that read "Pay Your Debts," their shouts rising in waves, suffocating and relentless.
I watched my parents grow increasingly haggard, the glaring white strands appearing at their temples, yet not a single word of comfort felt anything but hollow and powerless.
I wanted to seek help from Ben Luke, but my parents stopped me: "Ella, a person lives by their dignity. Even if the Scott family falls apart, you must never hold your head low in the Luke family."
A week later, just after I finished my graduation formalities and returned home, the doorbell rang urgently.
Outside stood two police officers, their faces weighed down with sorrow.
My parents, crushed under unbearable burdens, had thrown themselves from the top floor of the company building, leaving behind only a note that read, "Ella, live well."
My world shattered in an instant, thrown violently into an ice cellar, where only endless darkness and biting cold remained.
The day of the funeral was heavy with drizzle; few came to mournmostly indifferent business partners, their eyes veiled with distance.
Ben Luke arrived, his black suit deepening the somberness on his face, yet in his eyes, I saw no hint of compassion, only a faint, barely noticeable irritation.
He pulled me aside into a corner of the mourning hall, his voice calm to the point of coldness: "Ella, let's break up."
Rain soaked my hair and traced down my cheeksrain or tears, I couldn't tellblurring the edges of his face.
"My family has arranged a new match for meMiss Ruby Shawn of the Shawn family. She will greatly benefit our family business."
He added, "A match of equal standing is very important. Right now, you can't give me what I want."
I quietly stared at him, engraving the coldness and finality in his expression into my bones, and spoke just one word: "Alright."
My voice was hoarse, unfamiliar to myself; my throat felt as if sandeddry and aching.
Watching his back as he turned and walked away without hesitation, my heart was squeezed by invisible hands, aching so sharply I nearly fainted.
But I knew I couldn't fall. The Company my parents had protected with their livesI had to save it. This was the only way to honor them.

Early the next morning, I washed my face with cold water, staring at the red, swollen eyes and pale cheeks reflected in the mirror, and took a deep breath.
Wearing my mother's favorite cream-colored suit and tying my hair back in a neat ponytail, I stepped into the empty Company.
Dust blanketed the desk, papers lay scattered across the floor, some soaked by rain. The once lively office was now deathly silent.
I walked over to my father's desk, dusted it off, and picked up his favorite fountain pen; its body still seemed to hold a faint warmth.
I started sorting through the materials he left behindthick contracts and ledgers piled high on the desk.
I turned each page, desperately trying to find a glimmer of hope to save the Company.
In the days that followed, I moved like a wound-up clock, rushing tirelessly from place to place, visiting my father's longtime subordinates and business partners.
But reality proved harsher than I had imagined. Those who once greeted me with warm smiles now avoided me as if I carried a plague.
I dialed Mr. Warren's number, my father's closest friend, only for him to cut me off before I could finish speaking: "Ella, I'm short of money as well, I can't help you."
The call was abruptly ended, without so much as a word of comfort.
I called Mr. Lee, whom my father once promoted, but the call went straight to voicemail.
I waited outside his company from dawn till dusk, only to be stopped by a security guard: "Miss Scott, things have changed now. Our boss won't see you."
The security guard's words were like a blade, piercing what little dignity I had left; the contempt in his eyes left me utterly mortified.
The relatives were even more distant; upon learning of my family's bankruptcy and my parents' death, they all drew clear lines to keep their distance.
My aunt's family had once been recipients of much care from my parents, but when I went to her for help, she coldly replied through the security door, "We can't help you."
I stared at the brand-new LCD TV and the precious calligraphy paintings behind her, my throat tightening, unable to say a word.
Even my cousin, who grew up alongside me and was supposed to be my bridesmaid, blocked me.
Night fell, and returning to the empty villaonce a home brimming with happinessthere was now nothing but cold walls and loneliness.
The crystal chandelier in the living room still glowed, yet it could not warm the cold that enveloped the large house.
On the dining table, my parents' uneaten dishes remained untouched.
I curled up on the sofa, clutching my parents' photograph, finally unable to hold back my sobs.
Tears soaked the photo and blurred my vision. I had never felt so helplesslike the whole world had abandoned me.
Exhausted from crying, I raised my hand to touch the engagement ring on my ring finger, the one Ben Luke had given me last year.
That ring once symbolized a happy future; now, it had become the cruelest joke.
I gently twisted the ring and pulled hard; a sharp sting shot through my finger as the ring slipped off, leaving a faint red mark on my fingertip.
I tossed it onto the coffee table, watching it roll into the corner, settling among the dust.
From that moment on, I severed all ties with Ben Luke and everything from my past.
I would rely on myself to reclaim all that was mine and force those who had abandoned and scorned me to see me anew.

Day after day passed, and I kept running myself ragged for the company, facing endless setbacks but never giving up.
I sold all the valuable jewelry I had on me, including my mother's pearl dowry and the coming-of-age bracelet my father gave me, barely managing to keep the company afloat.
Every day, gnawing on bread and drinking mineral water, weaving through the city's alleys; when my shoes wore through their soles, I replaced them with canvas shoes, and though my clothes had faded to a pale shade, I didn't care.
Occasionally, I caught news about Ben Luke from newspapers and televisionhis engagement banquet with Ruby Shawn was grand and lavish, hailed by the media as the "the best couple."
In the photos, Ben Luke smiled broadly, while Ruby Shawn wore a splendid gown and an expensive necklace, leaning her head on his shoulder.
I looked at the photo with an unruffled hearthow long could such "happiness," built merely on interests, really last?
I kept searching for opportunities, visiting one company after another, tirelessly presenting the environmental materials research project my father had left behind.
The technology for this project was already mature; it only lacked funding for mass production. It was my father's lifelong passion.
Finally, the head of a new energy company was moved by my persistence and agreed to meet me at a caf in the city center.
That day, I wore a crisp white shirt and black trousers, arrived half an hour early, and carefully arranged my materials.
The caf was filled with the scent of coffee, soothing music flowing softly, yet my palms were slightly sweaty, both nervous and hopeful.
Just as I was looking down at the documents, a familiar voice called out, "Ella Scott?"
I looked up and saw Ben Luke and Ruby Shawn; she was intimately linked arm in arm with him, the large diamond ring on her hand sparkling sharply under the lights.
Ruby's gaze met mine, filled with unrestrained scrutiny and disdain.
Ben Luke sized me up from head to toe, his eyes lingering on my faded shirt and canvas shoes, his tone impatient: "What are you doing here? Waiting for me on purpose?"
I sneered inwardly, my tone flat: "Mr. Luke, I'm here to see a client. This has nothing to do with you."
Ruby Shawn clung coquettishly to Ben Luke. "Ben, don't mind her. Let's focus on the wedding dresses."
She defiantly raised her diamond ring, her stance flamboyant.
Ben Luke nodded, his eyes cold with detachment and disdain. "Ella Scott, I am already engaged. This is useless."
"Mr. Luke, you misunderstood." I closed the file and stood up, straightening my back. "I just want to focus on the company. As for you, you're already in the past."
After speaking, she walked straight toward the private room in the caf, leaving them standing there stunned, feeling two complex gazes fixed behind her back.
The moment I pushed open the door, the corners of my mouth lifted in a faint smile, and my heart was clear as crystal.
I knew I had truly let go; those loves and sorrows would now serve as the driving force to move me forward.

The meeting with the client did not go well; they recognized the promise of the project but feared the risks, and ultimately declined the partnership with polite refusal.
As I stepped out of the caf, a light rain began to fall, its soft patter landing on me. Without an umbrella, I let the rain wash over me, my heart weighed down by loss.
Repeated failures pressed down on me like a heavy boulder, leaving me gasping for air; I wondered if continuing on still held any meaning.
Just then, a black umbrella appeared above me, shielding me from the cold rain, and a faint scent of cedar drifted to my nose.
"Ella Scott? Is that really you?" The gentle voice was tinged with both uncertainty and surprise.
I looked up and saw a face both familiar and strangearched brows, bright eyes, a steady presenceit was my high school classmate, Yale.
In high school, Yale was an academic achiever; his humble background often made him a target of mockery. We weren't close but had shared a few encounters.
I remember once he was robbed of his living expenses; it was I who secretly told the head teacher to help him out of trouble.
After graduation, I heard he had gone abroad to study finance, but I never expected to meet him here.
"Yale? Long time no see." I was a little surprised and raised my hand to wipe the rain from my face.
"Long time no see. Why are you standing here alone in the rain?" He tilted his umbrella toward me, letting his own shoulder become drenched.
I briefly explained the troubles with my family's company without dwelling on the grief and embarrassment.
Yale listened quietly, his brows slightly furrowed. When I finished, he said seriously, "Your project has great potential. If you don't mind, I'd be willing to help you."
I froze, my eyes instantly filling with tears. In my darkest hour, this long-unseen old classmate was willing to reach out and help.
"Why? We're not that close." My voice trembled with emotion.
Yale smiled gently, his eyes sincere: "In high school, you covered my tuition and gave me a notebook with 'Don't give up' written inside my desk. I've never forgotten."
Suddenly recalling that year in senior high, I never imagined he had kept it in his heart all along; tears brimmed in my eyes.
"Thank you, Yale." I nodded firmly, my voice hoarse.
He handed me a business card. "This is my contact information. I just returned to the country to establish an investment company. Tomorrow, we'll discuss the cooperation in detail."
From that day on, Yale became my greatest supporter in my career and a ray of light in the darkness of my life.
He injected urgently needed capital and leveraged his overseas connections to introduce high-quality clients and partners.
We often worked late into the night together, discussing plans and responding to emergencies.
When I was exhausted, he would make me a warm cup of coffee; when I was anxious, he patiently helped me analyze problems; and when I cried, he silently handed me tissues.
With his help, the company gradually got back on track and began turning a profit; some of the old employees also voluntarily returned.
During our time together, I found that Yale was not only exceptionally capable but also gentle and considerate, respecting my thoughts without ever being condescending.
Unconsciously, a strange emotion began to sprout in my heart; I started looking forward to going to work every day, to seeing him.
I knew I might have fallen in love with him, but I didn't dare say it, afraid that my past would hold him back, and fearful that love might repeat its mistakes.

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