Revenge Of The Jilted Bride (Ophelia)

ou're here to stir up trouble, you can leave."

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"It seems like he took poison, He had shown signs of being suicidal before, so the police ruled it as suicide, Chloe replied. Ophelia suddenly felt a bit uneasy and wondered, 'Suicide? Someone like Brock would never kill himself

Then, another possibility crossed her mind, and she thought, 'Who could have taken care of him so quietly and efficiently?

It wasn't that Ophelia was overly sympathetic. She just didn't believe Brock deserved to die. The thought of having someone snuffed out like that left a sour taste in her mouth.

Chloe, probably having picked up on something from Ophelia's expression, didn't say anything. After all, Chloe thought that Brock's death was well deserved after the narrow escape they had just had. Ophelia stood up, feeling a slight numbness in her feet. "I'm heading out, Chloe."

Before Chloe could respond, Ophelia had already flagged down a car on the street and headed back to Rosewood Manor.

When Ophelia walked through the door, she bumped into Lisa, who was about to bring her lunch.

Lisa, clearly surprised since she hadn't known Ophelia would be home at noon, said, "Miss Spencer, you're back just in time. Lunch is ready."

"I'm not hungry. I think I'll just head upstairs and sleep for a bit, Ophelia replied.

As Lisa watched Ophelia walk up the stairs, she noticed that Ophelia didn't look too well and felt a bit uneasy. She then made a phone call.

Lisa reported, "Mr. Sinclair, Miss Spencer didn't look too good today. She came back early and said she wanted to sleep, but she hasn't eaten yet."

"I see," Kenneth responded.

On the other end of the line, Kenneth sat in his wheelchair across from an elderly man with snow-white hair. The old man wore a dark green suit and leaned on his cane, a large emerald ring on his finger. "Mark, take him back. I don't want to see him hanging around anymore," Kenneth ordered.

"Understood," Mark replied.

Ronan Sinclair stood up, gripping his gold-topped cane. He hadn't come for much today-just to see if the rumors about Kenneth's failing health were true.

As Ronan left, he overheard coughing from inside the room and thought, 'It won't be long before Sinclair Group falls back into my hands.

After Mark returned from dropping Ronan off, Kenneth got up from his wheelchair, washed his face, and wiped it with a damp towel. The sickly pale look on his face vanished, and he instantly appeared more energetic. "Did something happen to Ophelia today?" Kenneth asked.

Mark received a call as he was heading upstairs. Feeling a bit guilty, but knowing he couldn't lie, he replied, "Earlier... Miss Spencer was in a competition, and a guy who had plagiarized her work was blacklisted by the industry. Enraged, he went looking for her and almost...almost hurt her."

He thought that they had just pulled away the team protecting Ophelia, and now something like this happened. Kenneth

would be furious.

As expected, when Kenneth heard Mark's words, his eyes darkened with a cold intensity. "Where is he?"

"He's already taken his own life out of guilt," Mark replied.

Kenneth huffed in response, thinking that someone like him didn't deserve to live anyway.

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Meanwhile, Ophelia, who was lying in bed, had drifted off into a fitful sleep, her dreams haunted by the image of Brock's face.

"How about I send you off, huh?" His voice echoed again and again in Ophelia's mind, mixing with memories of both his kindness and cruelty. Every version of his face in her mind twisted into something grotesque, the knife pressing against her throat before suddenly plunging toward her.

Ophelia shot awake, gasping for breath, her forehead slick with cold sweat and her back completely drenched. As her vision slowly cleared, she saw Kenneth sitting beside her bed.

His brows were furrowed, and his sharp, otherworldly features reflected in Ophelia's wide eyes.

When Kenneth noticed the waterproof bandage on her neck and how pale and shaken she looked, he felt an overwhelming urge to dig up Brock's corpse and grind his bones into dust.

Ophelia could see Kenneth's jaw clench, the muscles in his cheek tensing slightly. She sat up, leaning against the headboard. "It's nothing. The wound's not serious."

Kenneth didn't say anything. Instead, he gently peeled back the bandage to check. Then, he thought, 'Good thing it wasn't deep. Otherwise, none of those people I sent to protect her would've lived.

He carefully reapplied the bandage and pulled Ophelia into his arms, murmuring, "Go back to sleep."

"Okay," she whispered.

True to his word, Ophelia slept more peacefully in Kenneth's arms.This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

Ophelia loved him, so she accepted everything about him, including his ways of handling things. Still, there was a lingering guilt in her heart over Brock that she couldn't quite shake.

When dinner rolled around, Kenneth had the dishes brought up. Ophelia only had a small nick on her neck, yet she was being treated like she had some serious illness. It all felt a little excessive.

But as soon as she took two bites, her stomach churned, and she quickly ran to the bathroom, crouching by the toilet, dry heaving.

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