Chapter 4
On the eleventh day, after he had meticulously planned her fake ‘murder,‘ they actually went and secretly got their marriage license.
What a twist of fate!–
Whitney froze, a suffocating agony drowning her, hate that was bone–deep, and a coldness that splashed from the depths of her eyes.
The past taunted her like a sharp sword.
“Whitney, I will definitely marry you. You’ll soon be Mrs. Perlman.”
“Whitney, you’re a genius. Help Monica with her draft one more time; she must win the jewelry competition!”
“We’ll get the license after the wedding. Don’t worry, I won’t betray you.”
After the wedding, huh? But he wanted her dead!
The tight grip on her palm was released by the man standing beside her, his tall figure casting a cool shadow. He asked her, “Need a few minutes?”
Whitney pressed her pale lips together and shook her head.
A clerk politely ushered them inside.
It only took two minutes to get the license. Whitney glanced at the man working busily in the chair, then at the marriage certificate. His name in the document had only one initial: L.
Domineering, indifferent, perfunctory.
What kind of marriage was this? It seemed the license was just a way to bind her and to appease the old lady.
She knew nothing about him, nor did she know whom she had truly married.
Suddenly, Whitney spotted Simon and Monica entering another office. Monica took her purse to the restroom.
Whitney’s lips curled into a cold smirk, and she said to L, “I have something to take care of.”
Felix, the man’s assistant, looked at Whitney’s retreating figure and asked the man quietly, “Sir?”
work,
water, and smeared it all over the
asked the driver to stop
a delicate figure tumbled down the
Simon ran towards her.
and said with a trembling voice, “Look… This is the horoscope for a ghost marriage, with Whitney’s name written in blood! It just appeared in my purse.
the bloody paper, helping Monica up. “Nonsense. She’s dead! Calm down, don’t let the paparazzi
Monica’s eyes darkened, her face drained
phone. The pain from her palm, punctured and raw, was
her ear. “Harsh? Whitney was born to shield Monica from misfortune, a
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Chapter 4
truth cut like a knife. From now on, she would
afternoon’s funeral news, her mouth twisting in a cold
would
hand back. “Mr. L, we can drive
was enveloped by a larger one. The man beside her divided a fraction of his
resolve falter, and the tears she had
you.” He frowned, rubbing her hand gently, his face emotionless, his breath
what you’re planning; just make sure you keep yourself safe, especially what’s
a transaction, after all. Whitney did not expect him
she needed a haven, and
he said as he
retreating figure, then told the
home, Yvonne tore the blood–stained paper with a scoff, “It’s
“But no one else knew
“Even if all her company’s people have turned to us, she might still
in front of the media that all of Whitney’s inheritance will go to you. There will be no more Whitney in this
she can’t come back,” Preston stated
regained her composure, a triumphant
afternoon, the funeral
about Whitney Valentine, a business
was as scandalous as her life had
core.
from a public
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