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

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  • Chapter 5

  • stamped with exotic postmarks, recounting her work and life in detail, often

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

  • once told

  • small, but the real world is vast. You must see it for

  • only then will you know what

  • five, she died in the

  • hospital managed to

  • the patient records she had risked her life to protect, there was

  • who knows

  • action” meant, but I did

  • Women who love the limelight never meet a good

  • lost my mother, but her words

  • see for yourself. Document and experience the world

  • will you know what

  • weathered body and

  • her relic, and my

  • in my hands, I let my tears slip through my fingers and whispered:

  • you so much…”

  • The next morning.

  • headache jolted me awake.

  • 09:22

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  • my eyes, recognizing the familiar ceiling above–it

  • I had no recollection of

  • noticed Jackson sitting in the living

  • behave as the lady of the

  • and

  • desk was

  • hoarse as I asked, “Where’s my

  • Jackson smirked coldly.

  • it to Sara.”

  • My breath caught.

  • did you say?”

  • disdainful smile tugging at his lips.

  • to

  • deafening roar filled my

  • had given my mother’s

  • slipped from my hand and shattered. I lunged at

  • my camera?! How dare you?!”

  • He stammered, “Sara…

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