Echoes of Vengeance: The Sweet Wife's Perfect Revenge-Chapter 219: The Suffering

At 9 sharp,

Aveline walked into the conference room. Everyone was already there, employees, heads of departments, even interns were sitting straight, tense, waiting. Aveline came in with the company lawyers.

The shift in the air was instant. Everyone's shoulders went stiff, their hands tightened over notepads, yet their eyes were fixed on her.

Aveline didn't drag it out. "I'm sorry," she began, voice soft but steady. "I know we started this journey with hopes and goals."

She clutched her fingers tight to stay composed and continued, "Everything must come to an end, but ours came a bit early. I take full responsibility for the situation. I will relieve everyone today," she paused, looking at each one of them, "and I will pay the salary for the next three months, so you have time to find your next path."

Gasps filled the room. A few hands flew to their mouths. HR blinked in disbelief. "Are… are we closing the company?" she asked, baffled.

Nolan shot out of his chair. "Wh... why, Ms. Laurent? You can't just give up because of one disaster!" His voice cracked. "And we weren't even responsible for it!" He meant it wasn't their mistake.

Aveline almost smiled. Even after everything, they still wanted to work for Grace and Bloom, work for her. Loyal to the end.

She shook her head gently. "We can't keep the company open when we have no hope for events. We won't go door to door begging clients for an event."

"Why do we have to beg?" Tara asked bluntly.

Nolan suddenly yelped, "Wait… wait… Ms. Laurent, just… wait!" He dashed out of the room.

Everyone blinked at the empty doorway. Seconds later, he burst back inside, carrying a thick stack of papers, nearly tripping as he hurried.

He dumped them on the table. "Here. Look. We have thirty-three event requests. Thirty-three." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Corporate events, celebrity events, private weddings, international inquiries. I didn't know what to do, which one to choose first. That's why I was calling you nonstop."

Aveline froze. The internet was still blaming her. The case was still in court. Then how…

Her fingers flipped through the papers slowly, shock blooming across her face. "W–we… we have events?" she whispered, baffled.

"Yes!" the entire room roared. The energy shifted like a storm clearing.

She turned to Nolan, still stunned. "Then why didn't you tell me sooner? You kept asking what to do… but never said this."

Nolan lowered his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because you lost your grandmother, Ms. Laurent. We didn't want to pile work on you. We were… giving you space."

Aveline blinked once. Twice. Then her lips curved softly, without letting them drown in sadness because of her personal life.

"Then get to work," she chirped, scooping the papers into her arms. "We are not closing."

The room erupted. People stood. Cheered. Hugged each other. Even the interns clapped like children.

Aveline raised the stack. "Meeting in one hour. I need the current stats while I pick our next event."

"Yes, Ms. Laurent!" they said in chorus.

And just like that, Grace & Bloom wasn't dying. It was rising. Busy, loud, alive, just like the name Aveline once dreamed it would be.

Slowly, the Laurents' life found its rhythm again. Not because they forgot Celeste, no one ever could, but because they carried her in their hearts. They remembered her warmth, her steadiness, her quiet strength.

They smiled through longing. They worked through the ache. Because if there was one thing Celeste always admired about the Laurents… it was their ability to keep moving forward, no matter how heavy the storm.

But the world wasn't gentle to everyone.

Theodore sat behind bars.

Seraphina was taken into custody.

The Astors lost their money, their influence, their name, everything except an empty villa echoing with regret, hate, and hopelessness.

And Damien Ashford?

His story was just beginning.

When Alaric finally started returning to NexGuard regularly, Ezra Kane finally took a day off, only to visit the man who topped his 'pending list.'

Snow layered thick over the high concrete walls of Velmora Penitentiary. Ezra snickered at the sight of it, amused at how the place suited Damien more than any luxury home ever did.

Inside, metal clanked, cold drafts crawled under the skin as Ezra was led to the visiting area. He sat down, fingers loosely intertwined, expression blank.

A few moments later, a man walked in. His face was bruised, his eyes swollen, his lip cracked, and his cheek split. His once-polished charm was nowhere to be found. But the fury… the fury was still there.

Damien hissed the second he saw Ezra, "What the f*ck are you doing here?"

Ezra didn't answer immediately. He just looked at Damien. Looked at the man who once strutted like he owned the world, now reduced to a trembling mess in an orange jumpsuit.

Damien's life inside had become hell. All it took from Alaric was a few calls… and a few payments.

His meals "accidentally" spilled over him. He was shoved in dark corners where cameras conveniently didn't work. Once, he was slammed into the wall so hard he saw black.

But other prisoners insisted to the guards, 'He did it to himself to get hospital time.'

When Damien fought back against the ones who were attacking him, he was beaten until he couldn't stand.

Day after day. Night after night. No one believed him. No one cared.

Because someone had made sure they didn't.

His wounds remained untreated in the freezing nights. His nightmares turned real. Sleep avoided him like a curse.

Ezra's lips curved faintly. "Relax," he said casually, leaning back. "I'm not here to do anything."

Damien gritted his teeth. "Then why..."

Ezra cut him off with a soft laugh. "Just came to check," he said smoothly, "if your life is exactly the way my boss wants it."

Damien froze. All the incidents started playing in his mind. Everything started the day Aveline slipped off the law.

Ezra's voice dropped to a silken whisper. "Painful as hell."

Recognition flickered in Damien's eyes, followed by terror when he understood who was behind his hellish life in prison lately.

Alaric Lancaster.

Ezra stood, dusting off the sleeves of his coat as if brushing away invisible dirt. He didn't spare Damien another glance as he turned to leave.

Damien rose, his chair screeched violently. "YOU… YOU BASTARD!" Damien screamed, lunging forward. "I'll kill…"

The guards grabbed Damien, dragging him away as he kicked and thrashed and shouted Ezra's name like a curse burning his throat.

Ezra didn't even turn. He simply walked out, calm, elegant, leaving Damien Ashford to choke on his misery.

Ezra reached the exit where a senior officer stood, arms crossed, watching the chaos. He paused beside him, adjusted his coat, and spoke in a calm, polite tone... far too polite for the words he delivered.

"Make sure he doesn't die," Ezra said. "But don't let him live comfortably either."

The officer nodded once. A silent agreement.

Ezra walked out into the cold. Damien's life would continue exactly as planned.

Not dead, not alive… just suffering.

Exactly as his boss intended.