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

spot where her fingers had

urge to see Amber’s demise

dead yet, she’s not dead yet, Marlene chanted, the words a frenzied litany that reverberated through the room, a fevered mantra that fueled

that Amber could still be very much alive, like a thorn in

brink of madness

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

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

thick

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

fevered chant, “Die, Amber, die, die, die,” a chilling litany of hatred that echoed off the walls.

that painted her cheeks as she continued on an outrage. Her cries grew

Amber!”

and crawled beneath her bed. Shadows danced in the dim light, casting twisted shapes across

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

desperate bid to silence the tormenting voices that echoed in her ears. The weight

moment, she felt a sense of helplessness hit her

her skin as she held it close

had a ennels at vaalisation

of realization

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Marlene threw the glass away,

as it dawned on her what she could have

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

Start

old days,”

like she had done a few times

immediately start streaming profusely down her cheeks as she crumpled to the ground, her ragged sobs mingling with the echoes of Amber’s voice, mocking her in

streamed down

that consumed her

when she felt both physically and emotionally battered, a loud knock reverberated through the room, jolting Marlene out