Married To My Ex-Husband’s Rival by Jobet GraySon

Chapter 128

Third–person POV

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Marlene sat in the dimly lit room, the glow of the screen illuminating her face as she watched the video of Amber’s accident, the images playing out in a never–ending loop. Her eyes were glazed over with a manic intensity as she replayed the moment of impact, finding a perverse sense of joy in the destruction that unfolded before her eyes.

As the video played on, Marlene’s fingernails absentmindedly picked at the skin of her palm, a nervous tic that had become more pronounced in her moments of heightened emotion. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her mind consumed by a twisted fixation on the sight of Amber’s car tumbling helplessly

a cruel smile playing on her lips as she whispered, “Die, die, die,” like an incantation that echoed

in the stillness of the room.

Dark circles ringed in her bloodshot eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights she had experienced in the past few days while obsessing over her vendetta against her older sister.

Ever since Angela’s call informing her of the successful attempt on Amber’s life, Marlene has been

consumed by a single–minded obsession with seeing her sister’s demise, a deep–seated desire for

closure that gnawed at her like a festering wound.

Her people had been dispatched to gather information on Amber’s condition, their sole purpose being

to bring her news of the one thing Marlene craved above all else: confirmation of Amber’s death. To

Marlene, only with Amber’s death came the promise of peace and vindication, a beautiful end that she

believed would finally free her from the suffocating weight of her sister’s existence.

But as she watched the video, a drop of blood splattered onto the screen of her phone, and a sudden

jolt of pain broke through her manic reverie. Marlene’s gaze dropped to her hand, her eyes widening

saw the raw, bloody spot where her fingers had dug

urge to see Amber’s demise come to

her, a primal fury that pulsed through her veins like wildfire. “She’s not dead yet, she’s not dead yet, Marlene chanted, the

very much alive,

of Marlene’s wrath, driving her to the brink of madness as she

stood in the center of her room, her chest heaving with a volatile mix of rage and despair. Without warning, she snatched her phone from the bed and hurled it across the room with a guttural scream, the device shattering

surroundings. With wild abandon, she seized anything within reach–cosmetics, pillows, perfumes, flower vases–and sent them flying across the room in

grew thick

“Die, Am Ound of shattering glass and splintering wood as Marlene’s voice rose

die, die, die,” a chilling litany of hatred that echoed off the

her face unchecked, mingling with the streaks of rage that painted her cheeks as she continued on an outrage. Her cries grew louder,

find peace until you’re dead, Amber!” She screamed, her voice shaky with

crawled beneath her bed. Shadows danced

her, a taunting sight that haunted Marlene’s every waking moment. The sound of mocking laughter filled the room, a cruel echo that reverberated in the empty spaces of her mind as Amber’s voice twisted with malice, calling Marlene a coward, a failure, a wretched

voices that echoed in her ears.

within reach. In that moment, she felt a sense of helplessness hit her hard as she reached for the glass shard, with words of self–deprecation tumbling from

the sharp edge cutting into her skin as she held it close to her wrist and was about to let it tear into her flesh. But in the final, fleeting

had a ennels at vaalisation Aliaknend in har

her, a spark of realization flickered in her

to 30%

threw the glass

on her what she

words to her a few months ago, “I’ll make

Start

again, just like the good old days,” and realize that, true to Amber’s words,

almost cut herself again, just like she had done

ground, her ragged sobs mingling with the echoes of Amber’s voice, mocking

and tears streamed down her cheeks, her heart aching with

consumed her

the room, jolting Marlene out of her