Revenge Of The Jilted Bride

Jilted Bride 5

Chapter 5

Karen sniffled, her expression pitiful as she turned her teary eyes towards Kenneth. "Mr. Kenneth, Miss Ophelia treats us maids like we weren't even human. Whenever something displeases her, she takes it out on us. You must help us" Kenneth sat in his wheelchair like a king on a throne, the smooth twist of his long fingers playing with the ring on his pinky. There was something about him that was oppressive, almost suffocating to look at.

From the moment he entered, his sharp gaze was glued to Ophelia. She stood there, her nose a bit red, looking strangely vulnerable. He thought to himself. Wasn't she just fierce a moment ago? Is she scared now

He chuckled darkly. "You've got me to back you up, so why bother getting your hands dirty yourself?"

The words left his mouth, and Karen froze, her face draining of color. She blinked, completely dumbfounded, as if she had misheard him.

Kenneth's voice was casual, like he was discussing the weather, but the words sent a chill through Karen's spine. "Cut off her tongue and feed it to the fish in the pond."

"Mr. Kenneth. no... I was wrong. I'm so sorry. Please, have mercy on me." Karen stammered, panic creeping into her voice.

Without hesitation. Mark, Kenneth's right-hand man, shot a glance at the bodyguards. They immediately grabbed Karen by the arms and began to drag her away.

"Mr. Kenneth. please... Karen's screams grew fainter until they disappeared entirely. The other servants stood trembling, pale as ghosts, their eyes wide in terror.

Kenneth's gaze remained cold and imperious. "Anyone else?" he asked, his tone leaving no room for argument, like an overprotective father about to stand up for his child

Ophelia glanced at the remaining maids, her stare like that of a predator eyeing its prey. As soon as they caught her gaze, the young maids' legs gave out, and they dropped to their knees, trembling uncontrollably: "Miss Ophelia, this is all a huge misunderstanding. It was all Karen. We didn't do anything.....

"I don't need this many people around." Ophelia said calmly, her gaze directed at Mark. "Let them all go

Mark raised an eyebrow and looked to Kenneth for confirmation. Kenneth gave the smallest nod, his expression unreadable. but it was enough.

"As you wish," Mark replied and took the hint, slipping out of the room quietly.

Now alone, the dining room felt much more intimate, the silence between Ophelia and Kenneth charged with unspoken tension. Ophelia's eyes lingered on Kenneth, her thoughts muddled. She had no idea when he had fallen in love with her in her last life, to the point of dying for her.

Yet this version of Kenneth, so cold and ruthless, had made her uneasy back then. She had feared him so much in the past. But not anymore. Now, she only wanted to make things right with him, no matter what it took

Kenneth's voice broke through her thoughts, low and subtle. "So willing to marry a cripple?"

and she scoffed inwardly, Cripple? What a joke: She remembered all too well the nights from her last life when he had held her down, ravaging her with a strength that didn't match the sickly image

it once already, she might've

told you I didn't marry willingly? Would you let me go then?"

chance," he shot back without missing a beat, his answer

just outsmarted a hunter "Well then, let me introduce myself properly. Im Ophelia Spencer Age twenty. No bad habits. Recently cut ties

brief silence followed before Kenneth's deep, gravelly voice responded, "Kenneth Sinclair. Age

Chapter 3

set the air on fire. It was as if he

the tension between them thick enough to slice with

of Heloria, no one except her dared to

"Are y

Kenneth asked, his

it was synonymous with power,

life, it was only

conglomerate; he controlled nearly seventy percent of the country's economy, dominating

that sent most people running in fear. But now, as Ophelia stared back at him,

sharp yet playful as she teased, "Should I be afraid of you? Her lips curved into a daring smirk. "You're my man. What's

eyes, flickering with both curiosity and mischief. If Kenneth was expecting anything

eyes narrowed slightly, one palm upturned, as if waiting for her next move. His gaze bore into her, a silent

briefly before placing her delicate hand in his, feeling the rough warmth

his grip tightened-like he could snap her bones if he wanted-before releasing her,

teasing note, his lips curling into a

eyes. She had almost forgotten just how twisted Kenneth

defiance danced on her gorgeous face. "Mr.. Sinclair," she began, her voice sweet yet challenging, "are you going to stay in that wheelchair forever

me out of the bathtub," she continued with a knowing grin. "you

really think sending a maid the next day would fool me? She could still remember that same fresh, woodsy scent clinging

over her like a looming shadow. Six feet three tall, he cast a heavy presence, the air around them thick with his dominance. His sudden movement confirmed what she already knew-he'd

chin up with two fingers, his voice icy as he murmured. "Aren't you afraid I'll cut out that sharp little

yours too?

you'd miss it too much Her gaze, defiant and unwavering, locked onto his, the faint mole beneath her eye only adding to the fierce beauty of her expression. She was testing