Piggy Princes's Revenge by Tessa Kelwyn
Piggy Princes's Revenge
Description
At sixteen, Lisa was a figure skater with a future. Then came the knee injury, the weight gain, and the cruelty of everyone she trusted. Her boyfriend humiliated her publicly. His friends made her life hell. And one night in college, the boy she finally let in took a photo she never should have allowed-and by morning, it was everywhere. They called her "Piggy Princess." Her career, her reputation, her family's life-all gone. Now she's twenty-six. Unrecognizable. Untraceable. And she just got hired at the company of the man she holds responsible for all of it. He's a CEO with a cold fiancee and no idea who his new employee really is. Lisa's plan is perfect. Make him fall for her. Tear his life apart. Leave him with nothing-just like he left her. There's just one problem she didn't plan for: he's falling, and so is she.
Chapter 1
Jul 2, 2026
[Lisa’s POV]
I'll finally destroy his life the way he once destroyed mine.
The thought runs through me clear as day, as I follow the HR manager through a corridor of glass walls and polished concrete, pretending that I belong here.
"Kitchen on the left, recycling bins here, please use them—" The tone of her 'please' suggests nobody ever does. "And this floor is analytics and strategy—your department. You'll love the team."
"Sounds perfect. I thrive in team settings." The lie comes out so naturally it might as well be true. Lisa Monet is enthusiastic, warm, forgettable—nobody worth watching twice.
My eyes, though, keep drifting to the corner office at the end of the hall. A man in a charcoal suit paces behind the glass with a phone to his ear—older, jaw sharper, shoulders broader under fabric that costs more than my rent.
The years have been generous to him. My stomach folds in on itself at the unfairness, because he aged into power while I starved myself down two dress sizes, broke my nose and paid a surgeon to build a new one, bleached my hair until it forgot its natural colour, and legally buried my last name.
"Ah, that's our COO!" The HR manager catches me staring. "Getting engaged soon, actually. To the owner's daughter. Quite the power couple."
"Seriously?" I press my hand to my collarbone, eyes wide, impersonating the gossip-loving woman I never was. "That's amazing."
"Right? He greets every new hire personally, so you'll meet him." She leans in, conspiratorial. "Between us—it's more of a business arrangement than a love story."
Inside, the arithmetic is clean: engaged to Kamila means his title, board seat, corner office—all stitched to that ring. Pull the ring, every seam rips.
He hasn't looked up. Hasn't noticed me. Good.
"Shall we?" She gestures toward the elevator. I let myself take one last look through the glass—him pacing, laughing into the phone, not a scratch on his expensive life.
I didn't come here to watch him get a happy ending. I came to take it from him.
* Ten years ago *
I was sixteen, standing at the boards in a hoodie two sizes too big, tugging it lower so my belly won't show. The girls I used to train with glided through warm-ups for regionals.
My knee was stiff from the latest physio—bend today, refuse tomorrow. But I missed the ice enough to come.
Veronica spotted me first. She glided to the boards and smiled with every tooth visible. "Liz! You came to support us. That is so sweet of you."
"I came to wish you luck." My voice was steady. My fists, buried in my hoodie pockets, were not. "Regionals are a big deal."
"They are! For people competing, anyway." She said it sweetly, head tilted, dripping concern. "But maybe cheer from the stands? I'm honestly not sure the ice can handle the extra load these days."
Laughter erupted—Chloe at centre ice, Mina by the bench. The sound bounced off the rink walls and multiplied.
"Good one, Nic!" Chloe shouted. "Maybe Liz can be our mascot instead—mascots don't have to fit into costumes, right?"
Nic's grin widened, feeding off the laughter. My nails left marks on my palms inside my pockets, and I stood there letting it happen because walking away mid-laugh would be admitting the joke hurt.
My coach appeared at my elbow. "Ignore them—they're nervous about regionals. A few more weeks of rehab and you'll be back showing them how it's done."
"I know." I forced a smile that felt just like my knee—stiff and uncooperative. "I'll see you Monday."
She squeezed my arm, and I wanted to believe her—desperately, pathetically wanted to. But her eyes had that look in them, the one people have when they're managing you rather than backing you.
I walked out with my chin up and my throat burning. The cold hit me first—January in Michigan—but underneath it, the understanding that I'd just been laughed out of the only place that ever made me feel worth something.
The parking lot should have been empty. Then I saw Max's Jeep—same car I'd ridden in a hundred times, his hand on my knee, his terrible playlists.
He was leaning against the hood. For one pathetic, desperate second my legs moved faster, because my stupid heart decided he came for me—that he knew today would wreck me and showed up anyway.
Then I saw Chloe. Tucked into his side, his arm around her waist—easy and practiced, like it's been happening for weeks. The same Chloe who'd just called me a mascot. My legs stopped, and the January air wasn't cold anymore because I couldn't feel anything below my chest.
He looked at me in passing—then his gaze returned, a deer in the headlights look that might still me something. “What’s going on here?” my voice broke in the middle, but I didn’t look away anyway.
"It’s not what you think it is—" he started, panicked.
"Then what is it, Max?" I gestured at Chloe's hand on his chest, at the space between them that didn't exist. "Because from here, it looks pretty clear."
He dropped his arm from Chloe's waist—not out of shame, but to cross both over his chest. "Fine. Yeah. It is what you think." His jaw worked once. "I'm not gonna be the clown who dates the fat girl while everyone laughs behind my back. Just look at yourself."
Chloe pressed into his side, grinning. "Babe, don't be mean—she might sit on you." She laughed at her own joke, high and sharp, and Max's mouth twitched upward. He didn't correct her. He let it land and let it stay.
My hand found the zipper of my hoodie and gripped it because my fingers needed something solid or they'd shake apart. Six months ago this boy kissed my forehead in this same parking lot and said he'd be at my first competition back.
Now he was three feet away with someone else's perfume on his jacket, and every word from his mouth was a door slamming shut—and the worst part wasn't what he was saying, it was that I still wanted him to take it back.
"While you’ve been laughed at? You know what they've been saying about me." My voice came out thin, begging, and I hated myself for sound of it. He didn’t deserve my anger.
I knew that, and I still couldn’t help but be angry at myself. Why did I land wrong that day? I’ve practiced that jump million times, how could I have gotten injured? How could I have gotten on the hormones, how could I let myself go like this to drive him away in the end?
"So?" He shrugged—actually shrugged, like I'd asked about the weather. "She's fun. You're—look, you're just not. Not anymore." I opened my mouth, and he raised a palm to stop me. “Don't. Seriously. It's embarrassing for both of us."
Behind me the rink doors swung open—Veronica, Mina, the new girl—already laughing before they even reached us. I was the show now. I was the punchline that kept giving.
My mouth opened and nothing came out. The parking lot tilted at its edges, the asphalt blurring, and my lungs forgot to expand.
He drove here. He drove across town and I thought it was for me, and it was never, ever for me, and it’s all because I wasn’t worthy of him anymore.
I was standing there with mascara burning tracks down my face and my knee throbbing and my hands balled inside a hoodie I bought specifically to hide in. No weapons, no comeback, no future version of myself to reach for.
Just a girl being taken apart in public, piece by piece, by every single person she thought she had.
Piggy Princes's Revenge
30 Chapters
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