The Ruined Bride of Velvet Nights by Brick Moving Ant

Chapter 11

  • Chapter 1

  • After five years of marriage, Navier Armstrong wanted a divorce.

  • When she arrived at the office, she spotted the secretary heading toward her husband Lysander

  • Vanderbilt’s office with a stack of documents.

  • Using the excuse that she was heading the same way, she took the stack of papers, discreetly slipping the divorce agreement among them.

  • As she handed over the documents, Lysander was on the phone.

  • Without even glancing at them, he signed everything–including the divorce agreement.

  • Navier stared at his signature on the divorce papers, momentarily lost in thought.

  • So this is it. It’s finally ending.

  • Just as she reached for the documents to leave, her elbow accidentally knocked over a delicate picture frame on his desk. It toppled over, glass shattering across the surface.

  • The smiling girl in the photo was now partially obscured by broken glass.

  • It was Ophelia Belmont, Lysander’s deceased first love.

  • “What the hell are you doing?!”

  • Lysander abruptly ended his call, his voice snapping with fury.

  • He shot to his feet and roughly shoved Navier aside.

  • She stumbled backward and her palm landing on shards of glass. Sharp pain shot through her hand, but she bit her lip, refusing to cry out though tears welled up involuntarily.

  • Looking down, she watched blood dripping from her fingertips, staining the documents on the floor.

  • Lysander seemed oblivious to her pain.

  • He knelt down, carefully picking up the photograph and gently brushing away the glass fragments,

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  • The Ruined Bride of Velvet Nights

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  • Chapter 1

  • terrified of causing the slightest damage. His movements were tender and focused, as if handling a

  • priceless treasure.

  • man before her, a wave of indescribable desolation

  • of marriage, and she–a living, breathing human being–still couldn’t compete with

  • cold as ice. “Don’t come to my office again without my

  • nothing. She silently gathered the blood–stained documents

  • leave.

  • was still bleeding, but she couldn’t feel the

  • she heard

  • voice remained detached but carried an undercurrent of urgency. “Have you found anyone who looks like Ophelia yet?”

  • on the other end said something, and Lysander’s voice betrayed a hint of barely

  • suppressed anguish.

  • been years! Why the hell can’t I find someone–anyone–who looks like

  • isn’t fair.”

  • her heart twisting with a bitter ache.

  • palm and the corner of her mouth curved into a sorrowful smile.

  • make it? Well, I did. Don’t worry, I’ll train her perfectly, and then I’ll personally deliver her

  • took a Uber to her

  • blurred past

  • Lysander had grown up together–childhood friends. And she had loved him for a decade.

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  • his heart had never belonged to

  • belonged to Ophelia Belmont, from the

  • years old, Ophelia fell ill

  • despondent, only reluctantly accepting the arranged marriage with Navier as part of

  • in their Manhattan social circle knew how much Navier loved

  • he kept a memorial corner in his home for Ophelia Belmont,

  • as if she were still

  • he covered their bedroom with

  • she was

  • swallowed her pain from his obsessive global search

  • stayed by his side long enough, he would eventually turn around and

  • with her.

  • he would forget about Ophelia,

  • way of slapping her

  • had been pregnant three times and each ended in

  • pregnancy–until her third

  • slipping abortion pills into Navier’s food every time she gets pregnant. If

  • finds out, she’ll

  • Lysander’s voice was cold. “If I had a child with another woman, Ophelia–wherever she

  • when she realized her previous miscarriages weren’t accidents at all–Lysander had deliberately

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