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 to discover

Michael said, attending to

feeling somewhat annoyed.

a spoiled rich brat, accustomed to having everything handed to him on a silver platter. He

he was, being attentive

her myself. You can go now,” I said, firmly as I walked over and snatched the glass

gaze and remained silent.

against the head of the bed and

dearly

like that?

one who found out that I was sick and sent me to the hospital

momentarily startled, frowning as

already ingratiated himself with Stephany’s grandmother long before

was he

It was as if he had encountered someone even more

called my name softly.

Rosie,

Steven, looking somewhat

you’ve never bothered to come visit me. Instead,

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

of my character, understanding just how much weight I placed on my

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

of my parents‘ death. My