The Ruined Bride of Velvet Nights by Brick Moving Ant

Chapter 59

  • Chapter 5

  • Others also stood up and left.

  • “Zoey, we’re heading out now.”

  • Someone muttered under their breath, but their words reached my ears clearly.

  • “Does she even have the nerve to go against Sara? Doesn’t she know she’s the one who stole someone

  • else’s man?”

  • “Jealous, obviously! Sara’s beautiful and accomplished. What does she have?”

  • “She makes trouble for Sara, and in the end, it’s her husband who goes to comfort Sara. How stupid!”

  • Their mocking laughter faded into the distance, leaving the large private room eerily quiet.

  • Alone, I let out a faint, bitter chuckle and poured myself another glass of liquor. I drained it in one gulp.

  • To be honest, Sara wasn’t entirely wrong–I hadn’t been to those places.

  • But I knew she was lying.

  • Because of my mother.

  • I wasn’t born without parents.

  • My mother was a doctor with Médecins Sans Frontières, stationed in war zones.

  • In those days, for a woman to work abroad while her husband stayed behind to raise their child was

  • unthinkable.

  • Neighbors would sneer and taunt, saying:

  • “Your mother doesn’t want you anymore!”

  • I clenched my fists and fought to defend myself, protecting what little pride I had, only to face even harsher ridicule.

  • 09:22

  • The Ruined Bride of Velvet Nights

  • 50.4%

  • Chapter 5

  • frequently sent letters stamped with exotic postmarks, recounting her work and life in detail,

  • her letters to me, I would envision the heroic image of a

  • told

  • but the real world is vast. You must

  • then will you know what you truly

  • was five, she died in the line of duty during

  • to recover only

  • had risked her life to protect,

  • who knows

  • what “killed in action” meant,

  • Women who love the limelight never meet a

  • then on, I lost my mother, but her

  • for yourself. Document and experience the

  • know what

  • weathered body and substantial weight seemed to hold some lingering warmth of

  • and

  • I let my tears slip through my fingers and whispered:

  • I miss you so much…”

  • The next morning.

  • jolted me

  • 09:22

  • of

  • 50.6%

  • recognizing the familiar

  • recollection of how

  • to soothe my throat, I noticed Jackson sitting in the living room, his

  • how you behave as the lady of

  • I turned and walked toward the

  • desk

  • voice hoarse as

  • Jackson smirked coldly.

  • it to

  • My breath caught.

  • did you say?”

  • arms, a disdainful

  • to take more pictures?”

  • roar filled my

  • had given my mother’s relic to

  • from my hand and shattered. I lunged at him, grabbing his collar, shouting

  • touch my camera?! How dare you?!”

  • by my outburst. He stammered, “Sara… she’s at

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