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

primal urge to see Amber’s demise come to

surge of rage swept through her, a primal fury that pulsed through her veins like wildfire. “She’s not dead yet, she’s not dead yet, Marlene chanted, the words a frenzied litany that reverberated through the room, a fevered mantra that fueled her mounting anger.

Amber could still be very much alive, like a

to the brink of madness as she grappled

warning, she snatched her phone from the bed and hurled it across the room with a guttural scream, the device shattering against the far wall

her manic energy driving her to unleash chaos on her surroundings. With wild abandon, she seized anything within reach–cosmetics, pillows, perfumes, flower vases–and sent them

grew thick with the

Ound of shattering glass and splintering wood as Marlene’s

a chilling

that painted her cheeks as she continued on an outrage. Her cries grew louder, a desperate plea

Amber!” She screamed, her voice shaky with

motion, Marlene’s body convulsed, her hands reaching out in a frantic grasp as she collapsed to her knees and crawled beneath her bed. Shadows danced

echo that reverberated in the empty spaces of her mind as Amber’s voice twisted with malice,

the tormenting voices that echoed in her ears. The weight of Amber’s cruel

felt a sense of

her to the verge of giving up, Marlene’s grip tightened around the glass, the sharp edge cutting into her skin as she held it close to her wrist and was about to let it tear

a ennels at vaalisation Aliaknend in

to consume her, a spark of realization flickered in her eyes.

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to her senses at the last minute, Marlene threw the glass

her what she could have

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

Start

again, just like the good old days,” and

she had done a few times when she was

as she crumpled to the ground, her ragged sobs mingling with

echoed through the room, and tears streamed down her cheeks, her heart aching with

her whole being.

and emotionally battered, a loud knock reverberated through the room,