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.

and headed to Grandma Rosie’s ward, only to discover Michael had been there all

Grandma Rosie,” Michael said, attending to her.

feeling somewhat

him on a

was, being

is my grandmother. I can take care of her myself. You can go now,” I

lowered his gaze and

was awake, leaned against the head of the

dearly

could you talk to Mike like that? He’s a

but he was also the one who found out that I was sick and sent me to the hospital in time. If it weren’t for him, I might have never been able to

was momentarily startled, frowning as I stared at

seemed he had already ingratiated himself with Stephany’s grandmother long before

exactly was he up to?

It was as if he had encountered someone even

Steven called my

pulled Steven over and introduced him to Grandma Rosie, “Grandma Rosie, this is my husband, Steven

at Steven, looking somewhat displeased.

never bothered to come visit me. Instead,

care of himself, let alone you. It’s best that he doesn’t come and upset you,” Michael whispered, clearly trying to

just how much weight I placed on my

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

I was immersed in the grief of my parents‘ death. My