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

she saw the raw, bloody spot where her fingers had dug into her flesh

primal urge to see

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

that Amber could still be very much alive,

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

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

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

thick

Am Ound of shattering glass and splintering wood

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

an outrage. Her cries grew louder, a desperate plea for

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

crawled beneath her bed. Shadows danced in

Marlene’s every waking moment. The sound of mocking laughter filled the room, a cruel echo that reverberated in the

a desperate bid to silence the tormenting voices that echoed in her ears. The weight of Amber’s cruel words bore down on her like a crushing weight, threatening to drag

was within reach. In that moment, she felt a sense of helplessness hit her

her skin as she held it close to her wrist and was about to let it tear into her

a ennels at vaalisation Aliaknend in har MURA

consume her, a spark of realization flickered in

to 30%

Marlene threw the glass away, the shard clattering to the

it dawned on her what she could have done

her moment of clarity, she’d recall Amber’s 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,

herself again, just like she had done a few times when

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

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

her whole

the room, jolting Marlene out of her despair. She struggled to push