Love beyond the mask (Whitney) novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

On the eleventh day, after he had meticulously planned her fake ‘murder,‘ they actually went and secretly got their marriage license. 

What a twist of fate!– 

Whitney froze, a suffocating agony drowning her, hate that was bone–deep, and a coldness that splashed from the depths of her eyes. 

The past taunted her like a sharp sword. 

“Whitney, I will definitely marry you. You’ll soon be Mrs. Perlman.” 

“Whitney, you’re a genius. Help Monica with her draft one more time; she must win the jewelry competition!” 

“We’ll get the license after the wedding. Don’t worry, I won’t betray you.” 

After the wedding, huh? But he wanted her dead! 

The tight grip on her palm was released by the man standing beside her, his tall figure casting a cool shadow. He asked her, “Need a few minutes?” 

Whitney pressed her pale lips together and shook her head. 

A clerk politely ushered them inside. 

It only took two minutes to get the license. Whitney glanced at the man working busily in the chair, then at the marriage certificate. His name in the document had only one initial: L. 

Domineering, indifferent, perfunctory. 

What kind of marriage was this? It seemed the license was just a way to bind her and to appease the old lady. 

She knew nothing about him, nor did she know whom she had truly married. 

Suddenly, Whitney spotted Simon and Monica entering another office. Monica took her purse to the restroom. 

Whitney’s lips curled into a cold smirk, and she said to L, “I have something to take care of.” 

Felix, the man’s assistant, looked at Whitney’s retreating figure and asked the man quietly, “Sir?” 

The man’s gaze never left his work, only frowning slightly. “Keep her safe.” 

Whitney took out a lipstick inside the restroom, crushed it into water, and smeared it all over the paper. She stuffed it into a cubicle and left with a cold smile. 

Outside the city hall, Whitney asked the driver to stop the car. 

Within seconds, a delicate figure tumbled down the steps in panic, screaming unabashedly, “Simon!” 

Simon ran towards her. 

Monica, pale as death, shook out a blood–soaked paper and said with a trembling voice, “Look… This is the horoscope for a ghost marriage, with Whitney’s name written in blood! It just appeared in my purse. Is Whitney coming back for revenge?” 

Simon also recoiled at the sight of the bloody paper, helping Monica up. “Nonsense. She’s dead! Calm down, don’t let the paparazzi snap this.” 

“Simon, I’m so scared…” Monica’s eyes darkened, her face drained of color. 

Watching the guilty couple huddled together, Whitney coldly snapped a photo with her phone. The pain from her palm, punctured and raw, was unbearable, and her eyes began to fill with a bloody hue. 

Her stepmother’s words echoed in her ear. “Harsh? Whitney was born to shield Monica from misfortune, a life cheaper than dirt!” 

1/2 

14:54 

Chapter 4 

So be it, the truth cut like a knife. From now on, she would become Monica’s calamity! 

Whitney glanced at the afternoon’s funeral news, her mouth twisting in a cold smile. The appetizer was served; the entrée would soon follow. 

A sea of blood and deep vengeance, she would claim it all back, everything that belonged to her! 

She pulled her hand back. “Mr. L, we can drive off now.” 

Suddenly, her pale hand was enveloped by a larger one. The man beside her divided a fraction of his attention from his work to ask, “Does it hurt?” 

His voice, so deep, made Whitney’s resolve falter, and the tears she had been holding back threatened to break through. 

“Don’t cry! Let me rub it for you.” He frowned, rubbing her hand gently, his face emotionless, his breath calm and deep. 

Whitney gazed at this noble man, who commanded, “I don’t care what you’re planning; just make sure you keep yourself safe, especially what’s in your belly!” 

“I promise you!” It was a transaction, after all. Whitney did not expect him to avenge her, especially since he doubted her intentions. 

But she needed a haven, and this marriage was her temporary shelter. 

“Please take the young lady to her destination,” he said as he stepped out of the car, too busy to state where. 

Whitney watched his retreating figure, then told the driver, “Please take me to Sun Funeral Home.” 

Meanwhile, in the VIP lounge of the funeral home, Yvonne tore the blood–stained paper with a scoff, “It’s just lipstick and water, a childish prank. Who are they trying to scare?” 

Monica shivered. “But no one else knew about us giving Whitney a ghost marriage!” 

Yvonne dismissed it with contempt. “Even if all her company’s people have turned to us, she might still have a friend or two. Just a minor nuisance.” 

“Humph, the funeral is starting soon. Your father will announce in front of the media that all of Whitney’s inheritance will go to you. There will be no more Whitney in this world!” 

“She’s dead and gone, and she can’t come back,” Preston stated with certainty. 

Monica regained her composure, a triumphant smile on her face. 

At two in the afternoon, the funeral home was packed. 

The Valentine family was a well–known dynasty in Banyan City. Everyone knew about Whitney Valentine, a business prodigy and stunning beauty who made a name for herself in Banyan City by 18. 

Now, she was dead. And her death was as scandalous as her life had been, enough to shake the city to its 

core. 

Whitney narrowed her eyes as she made a call from a public phone. Even with nothing to her name, she remembered some media contacts. 

She hid the blood packet she had bought in her clothing, donned sunglasses, removed the bandage from her palm, and walked into the funeral home’s entrance. 

Her lips twisted in a bitter laugh. She had come back. 

Whitney’s eyes landed on the empty casket in the center as the funeral music started.