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?”

left his work, only frowning slightly. “Keep

a lipstick inside the restroom, crushed it into water, and smeared it all over the paper. She stuffed it into a cubicle and

asked the driver to stop the

a delicate figure tumbled down the steps in panic,

Simon ran towards her.

horoscope for a ghost marriage, with Whitney’s name written in blood!

paper, helping Monica up. “Nonsense. She’s dead!

Monica’s eyes darkened, her face drained

coldly snapped a photo with her phone. The pain from her palm, punctured and raw, was unbearable, and her

echoed in her ear. “Harsh? Whitney was born to shield Monica from misfortune, a life

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Chapter 4

be it, the truth cut like a knife. From now on, she

mouth twisting in a cold smile. The appetizer was served;

of blood and deep vengeance, she would claim it all back,

her hand back. “Mr. L, we can drive off

beside her divided a fraction of

falter, and the tears

you.” He frowned, rubbing her hand gently, his face emotionless, his breath

this noble man, who commanded, “I don’t care what you’re planning; just make sure you keep yourself safe, especially what’s

you!” It was a transaction, after all. Whitney did not expect him to avenge her, especially since

she needed a haven, and this marriage

to her destination,” he said as he stepped out of the car, too busy to

watched his retreating figure, then told the driver,

paper with a scoff, “It’s just lipstick and water, a childish

no one else knew about us giving Whitney

have turned to us, she might still have a friend or two. Just a

is starting soon. Your father will announce in front of the media that all of Whitney’s inheritance will go to you. There will be

dead and gone, and she can’t come back,” Preston stated

her composure, a triumphant smile on her

in the afternoon, the funeral home

in Banyan City. Everyone knew about Whitney Valentine, a business prodigy and stunning beauty who made

And her death was as scandalous as her life had been, enough

core.

a call from a public phone. Even

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