Revenge After Death

Chapter 233

“Was it Simmy who gave it to you?” I asked softly, peering anxiously into Steven’s eyes.

Steven avoided my gaze and deflected, “Stephie… How’s Grandma Rosie doing?”

He was changing the subject.

I always knew that there were too many secrets surrounding Steven. I had initially drawn close to him to unravel those very mysteries. Otherwise, Eason wouldn’t have been so

fixated on him.

Yet, the deeper I delved into our connection, the more I realized that not only did Steven harbor numerous secrets, but my original host, Stephany Larson, did as well.

To compound matters, I even began to question myself.

What hidden truth lay buried within my lost memories?

Why did Michael say that I had a psychological illness before? And what kind of illness

was that?

Was it a mere coincidence that I found myself reborn into Stephany’s body?

The more I pondered, the more terrifying the things seemed to me..

I brought Steven back to his ward. The nurse scolded him severely and resealed the punctured needle of the IV.

out of bed and move around, I held his hand and headed to Grandma Rosie’s ward, only

some water, Grandma Rosie,” Michael said, attending to

frowned, feeling somewhat

having everything handed to him on

here he was, being attentive in the ward.

I can take care of her myself. You can go now,” I said, firmly as I walked over

lowered his gaze and

the head of the bed and gazed at Michael

dearly

to Mike like that? He’s a nice, kind–hearted

was sick and sent me to the hospital in time. If it weren’t for him, I might have never

momentarily startled, frowning as I

already ingratiated himself with Stephany’s

was he

doorway, Steven scrutinized Michael with cold eyes. It was as

Steven called my name softly.

Rosie, “Grandma Rosie, this is my husband, Steven Lincoln. You

Rosie glanced at Steven, looking somewhat displeased.

so long, yet you’ve never bothered to come visit me. Instead, Mike was the one

He probably can’t even take care of himself, let alone you. It’s best that he doesn’t come and upset you,” Michael

my character, understanding just how much weight I placed on

had “killed“, or rather, the me who had lost an important memory after

of my parents‘ death. My restless and