Revenge Of The Jilted Bride

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.

she had felt the comfort of such a luxurious bath. Slowly, her mind began to drift, and she

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

the pressure, her chest

through the haze, a familiar figure emerged a tall silhouette against the dark, moving toward her with deliberate, calm strides. The edges of the vision sharpened, and then she saw him. It was Kenneth. His chiseled features were as striking

cold washed over her as

*****

of a plush bed, the soft fabric of a white bathrobe enveloping her like a gentle cloud. Her confusion

she could piece things together, a large woman, one of the maids, entered the room, knocking 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 trying

problem at all, Miss Ophelia. Breakfast is ready

the time, shrugged off the strangeness, and headed downstairs

at Rosewood Manor and

evening, feeling restless, she decided to run along the winding paths that encircled the villa. The rhythmic sound of her feet hitting

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 of maids were standing in the kitchen, whispering amongst

"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 mistress, let alone

caught every 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

film of something suspiciously like

work out a lot, so I figured you'd appreciate something light," Karen

so pure and innocent that it

life, she had played the fool, constantly running to Hastings Villa like a loyal dog, barely spending any time at Rosewood Manor. She had never

her finger at Karen, the smirk

glint that flashed in Ophelia's eyes. "What's the matter? Don't like the food? From what I heard, you grew up in the slums. You should be thankful that you've got anything to eat at all, let alone complain about-" Before Karen

Ophelia grabbed Karen by the hair and slammed her face down into the plate of pasta in front of her. "Let me teach you something from the slums." Ophelia's voice was calm as she pressed harder with unexpected