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?”
gaze never left his work, only frowning
crushed it into water, and smeared it all over the paper. She stuffed it into a cubicle and left with
city hall, Whitney asked the
seconds, a delicate figure tumbled down the steps in panic, screaming
Simon ran towards her.
voice, “Look… This is the horoscope for a ghost marriage, with Whitney’s
paper, helping Monica up. “Nonsense. She’s dead! Calm down, don’t let
so scared…” Monica’s eyes darkened, her face drained of
couple huddled together, Whitney coldly snapped a photo with her phone. The pain from her palm, punctured and raw, was unbearable, and her eyes
in her ear. “Harsh? Whitney was born to shield Monica from
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14:54
Chapter 4
the truth cut like a knife. From now on, she
at the afternoon’s funeral news, her mouth twisting in a cold smile. The appetizer was served; the entrée
deep vengeance, she would claim
back. “Mr.
larger one. The man beside her divided a fraction of his attention from his work
the tears she had been
for you.” He frowned, rubbing her hand gently, his face emotionless, his breath calm and
commanded, “I don’t care what you’re planning;
promise you!” It was a transaction, after all. Whitney did not expect him to avenge her, especially since
a haven, and this
destination,” he said as he stepped out of the car, too busy
figure, then told the driver, “Please take
VIP lounge of the funeral home, Yvonne tore the blood–stained paper with a scoff, “It’s just
one else knew about us
have turned to us, she
front of the media that all of
and she can’t
regained her composure, a
two in the afternoon, the funeral
knew about Whitney Valentine, a business prodigy and stunning beauty who made a name for
her death was as scandalous as her
core.
made a call from a public phone. Even with nothing to her
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