His Regret Arrived Three Days Late novel Chapter 12

“Annika, you killed me. I’ve come back for you.”

Serena’s face was deathly pale, her lips stained a gruesome, blood-red color, as if she’d just feasted on someone. She spread her arms like a butterfly about to take flight.

Annika stood frozen, rooted to the spot. In a daze, she watched Serena glide toward her. As a dancer, her steps were weightless, silent. Serena’s face grew larger and larger in her vision.

But the face was too clear, the breath too real. This was a person, not a ghost.

A bitter smile touched Annika’s lips. She lunged forward and grabbed Serena’s arm.

The figure flinched, trying to wrench free and escape, but Annika blocked her path. Before the imposter could react, Annika reached up, seized the edge of her chin, and yanked hard.

With a ripping sound, the mask was torn away. The face revealed under the bright lights wasn't Serena’s. It was…

“Estelle!” Annika breathed, stunned.

Caught red-handed, Estelle Beryl dropped the act, her face contorting with rage. “Yes, it’s me!” she shrieked. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Annika looked at her, a sense of weary absurdity washing over her. “You dress up like a dead person in the middle of the night to scare me, and you’re asking me what I’m going to do?”

It felt like trying to reason with a brick wall.

Estelle tried to push past, but Annika held her ground. The argument quickly drew Yazmin out of her room. She glanced at the white dress clutched in her daughter-in-law’s hand, then at Estelle’s ghoulish makeup.

Estelle shot Annika one last venomous glare before storming into her bedroom and slamming the door. The loud bang echoed through the hallway, making the whole floor seem to tremble.

Annika flinched.

Yazmin sighed. “Annika, Estelle is just an immature child. Don’t take her seriously. Have you finalized the guest list?”

“Yes, it’s done.”

Annika went to her room, retrieved the notebook, and handed it to her. Then Yazmin returned to her own room.

Annika sat by the window, staring blankly at the vibrant city lights outside. The wall clock ticked from one to two in the morning, but the sound of her bedroom door opening never came.