About
In a world where love twists into betrayal, Loriana finds herself ensnared in a web of heartache and revenge. Married to her father’s friend, Dominic, she thought she could endure his coldness and ruthless charm. But as she uncovers the truth behind his affections—a haunting past with another woman named Loriana—her heart shatters, revealing the fragile barrier between love and vengeance.
As the echoes of laughter from Dominic’s other life ring in her ears, she grapples with the loss of her own dreams, including the child she cradled for five months. With each passing day, the weight of deceit grows heavier, and a question lingers: how does one reclaim their life when the man they loved becomes a stranger?
In the shadows of her grief, Loriana’s resolve hardens. She pens divorce papers with shaking hands, but as the door closes behind Dominic, she realizes that breaking free may be the only way to truly find herself. Will she find the strength to confront the man who holds her heart in his hands, or will the ghost of his first love forever haunt her?
As secrets unfold and alliances shift, the path to revenge blurs with the desire for redemption. Can Loriana rise from the ashes of her shattered dreams, or will her quest for vengeance consume her entirely?
I Married My Father’s Friend to Take My RevengeChapter 1
I got married when I was twenty to my dad’s friend, Dominic Faviano.
He was eighteen years older. The kind of man people called dangerous when they thought I couldn’t hear. Cold. Ruthless. Always in control. But when it came to me, he acted like I was glass.
If I said I liked something, he’d buy it before I could even finish the sentence. If I said my stomach hurt, he’d cancel meetings, make ginger tea, and feed it to me like I was some fragile thing.
Sometimes at night, when he kissed me, his voice would go low and rough. “Be good, baby,” he’d whisper, like loving me was something that broke him a little.
All his passwords, usernames, accounts... they all had one name: “Loriana”
I thought it was because of ‘My Loriana’, the song I was playing when we met. I thought it was romantic.
But then one night, I was cleaning his study and opened one of his old photo albums.
There she was. A girl who looked like me, but prettier. Softer. Smiling beside a piano. On the back of every photo were the same words:
“My dearest Loriana.”
That night, something inside me cracked.