Revenge Of The Jilted Bride

Chapter 4

Jilted Bride 4

Chapter 4 Who Gave You The Right

Liam cast a glance at Ophelia, his curiosity piqued. 'Wasn't she supposed to be some poor girl who grew up in the slums for the first twenty years of her life?' he thought.

But there she stood, a confident smile lighting up her face-no trace of fear, no defensiveness. If anything, she had this effortless grace about her, something wild yet undeniably elegant. With her striking features and radiant eyes, Liam couldn't help but think she and Kenneth made quite the pair.

He led her up to a spacious guest room on the second floor. "Miss Hastings-"

"My name is Ophelia Spencer, actually. Just Ophelia, please," she corrected him gently but firmly.

Liam smiled, bowing his head slightly in respect. "Miss Ophelia, of course. You'll be staying in this room for now. Mr. Kenneth rarely stays here."

With a nod of recognition, she entered the room alone. She'd almost forgotten-during her last life, she hadn't even met Kenneth until a month after her arrival.

The room was massive, with a walk-in closet five times larger than the room she'd stayed at Hastings Villa.

She moved toward the ornate floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at the sea of city lights that shimmered like stars below. In the courtyard, clusters of roses swayed gently in the evening breeze, their soft pink petals catching the dim lights. The scene was almost too romantic to be real, a stark contrast to the coldness she felt inside.

The last time she had looked out on this view, she'd been a different woman-hopeful, naive. But not this time. Not in this life.

Ophelia wouldn't waste her second chance. She wouldn't let Kenneth down this time.

After a long, hot shower, she sank into the oversized bathtub, letting the heat relax her muscles as she began to map out the plan for the next five years. So much had happened, so much was yet to come.

her mind began to drift, and she fell asleep right there in the tub,

over time, and Ophelia's dream shifted to something colder, darker-like being submerged in

against the pressure, her chest

The edges of the vision sharpened, and then she saw him. It was Kenneth. His chiseled features were as striking as

sensation of being lifted from the cold washed over her as she was pulled into the warmth

*****

a plush bed, the soft

politely before asking, "Miss Ophelia, you're awake. You fell asleep in the tub last night, and I carried you back to bed." "Oh... thank you," Ophelia muttered, still groggy and

problem at all, Miss Ophelia. Breakfast is ready whenever you

dwelling too much on last night, Ophelia glanced at the time, shrugged off the

passed at Rosewood Manor

along the winding paths that encircled the villa. The rhythmic sound of her feet hitting the

I left with you. Split it 70-30 and transfer the money to my account," she said simply before hanging up. She needed money,

the time she returned, sweaty and ready for dinner, a cluster

to roll her eyes at Ophelia, her voice dripping with disdain as she muttered, "What's there to be scared of? She's just here to play wife for show. "Mr. Kenneth hasn't even bothered to visit her. In the old days, she wouldn't even be considered a

word, but she barely reacted. The maid who spoke was Karen Phillips. Ophelia recognized her. She was sour and conniving-lazy whenever Liam wasn't around, often lounging in the living room and watching TV as if she owned the place. "Is this what I'm supposed to eat?" Ophelia's voice was

to an unnatural size, like bloated worms, with a film of something suspiciously like spit glistening

out a lot, so I figured you'd appreciate something

and innocent that

played the fool, constantly running to Hastings Villa like a loyal dog, barely spending any time at Rosewood Manor. She had

finger at Karen,

matter? Don't like the food? From what I heard, you grew up

pasta in front of her. "Let me teach you something from the slums." Ophelia's voice was calm as she pressed harder with unexpected strength.

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