Revenge Of The Jilted Bride (Ophelia) novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Who Gave You The Right

Liam cast a glance at Ophelia, his curiosity piqued. 'Wasn't she supposed to be some poor girl who grew up in the slums for the first twenty years of her life?' he thought.

But there she stood, a confident smile lighting up her face—no trace of fear, no defensiveness. If anything, she had this effortless grace about her, something wild yet undeniably elegant. With her striking features and radiant eyes, Liam couldn't help but think she and Kenneth made quite the pair.

He led her up to a spacious guest room on the second floor. "Miss Hastings—"

"My name is Ophelia Spencer, actually. Just Ophelia, please," she corrected him gently but firmly.

Liam smiled, bowing his head slightly in respect. "Miss Ophelia, of course. You'll be staying in this room for now. Mr. Kenneth rarely stays here."

With a nod of recognition, she entered the room alone. She'd almost forgotten—during her last life, she hadn't even met Kenneth until a month after her arrival.

The room was massive, with a walk-in closet five times larger than the room she'd stayed at Hastings Villa.

She moved toward the ornate floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at the sea of city lights that shimmered like stars below. In the courtyard, clusters of roses swayed gently in the evening breeze, their soft pink petals catching the dim lights. The scene was almost too romantic to be real, a stark contrast to the coldness she felt inside.

The last time she had looked out on this view, she'd been a different woman—hopeful, naive. But not this time. Not in this life.

Ophelia wouldn't waste her second chance. She wouldn't let Kenneth down this time.

After a long, hot shower, she sank into the oversized bathtub, letting the heat relax her muscles as she began to map out the plan for the next five years. So much had happened, so much was yet to come.

It had been too long since she had felt the comfort of such a luxurious bath. Slowly, her mind began to drift, and she fell asleep right there in the tub, the warmth lulling her into a deep slumber.

The water cooled over time, and Ophelia's dream shifted to something colder, darker—like being submerged in the icy depths of the ocean.

She struggled to breathe, fighting against the pressure, her chest tightening with the thinning air.

And then, through the haze, a familiar figure emerged—a tall silhouette against the dark, moving toward her with deliberate, calm strides. The edges of the vision sharpened, and then she saw him. It was Kenneth. His chiseled features were as striking as ever, and his eyes, always intense, locked onto her with an unreadable expression.

The sensation of being lifted from the cold washed over her as she was pulled into the warmth of strong arms.

*****

When Ophelia's eyes fluttered open, the morning sunlight was streaming in through the windows, bright and cheerful. She was lying in the middle of a plush bed, the soft fabric of a white bathrobe enveloping her like a gentle cloud. Her confusion was instant. 'How did I get back to bed?'

Before she could piece things together, a large woman, one of the maids, entered the room, knocking politely before asking, "Miss Ophelia, you're awake. You fell asleep in the tub last night, and I carried you back to bed."

"Oh... thank you," Ophelia muttered, still groggy and trying to process.

"No problem at all, Miss Ophelia. Breakfast is ready whenever you are," the maid responded.

Not dwelling too much on last night, Ophelia glanced at the time, shrugged off the strangeness, and headed downstairs for breakfast.

A full week had passed at Rosewood Manor and she still hadn't seen Kenneth once.

One evening, feeling restless, she decided to run along the winding paths that encircled the villa. The rhythmic sound of her feet hitting the pavement cleared her mind as she dialed a number on her phone.

"Sell the things I left with you. Split it 70-30 and transfer the money to my account," she said simply before hanging up. She needed money, and she needed it fast.

By the time she returned, sweaty and ready for dinner, a cluster of maids were standing in the kitchen, whispering amongst themselves.