Revenge Of The Jilted Bride (Ophelia)

Ophelia let out a cold, bitter laugh, thinking, How easy they make it sound. In my last life, these people loved throwing me under the bus to take the blame for everything!

She recalled one time when Emily had been caught in a scandal with a director at a hotel. Hack then, the Hastings family had made her step in and took the fall just to clear up the mess for Emily.

They had always preached about "family sticking together, but when she was bombarded with online abuse and attacked with acid by the director's furious wife, none of them stood up for her. Instead, they land blamed her for being naive and careless. Ophelia shrugged, her tone dripping with indifference. "If it's no big deal, then let her clean up her own mess,

Heather's face turned red with fury as she grabbed a cup, ready to hurl it at Ophelia again. But Ophelia stood her ground, not even flinching, her eyes calm and clear, as if she were gazing at nothing more than a bunch of corpses.

Heather's hand froze mid-air, cup in hand, unsure what to do. But then Ophelia just turned on her heel and strode towards

the door.

Just as she reached the exit, the sound of shattering glass echoed behind her.

"It's okay, Emily, Mommy's here..." Heather cooed, trying to comfort Emily.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Ophelia's lips, a mocking curve.

As she stepped out of the mansion, she was met by a storming Nathan barreling toward her like a freight train.

"You filthy wretch. How dare you show your face here again!" Nathan bellowed, cocking his fist, aiming straight for her.

Nathan, with his gym-honed body, standing at nearly six feet tall, was a beast of a man. He had even learned boxing and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. But against Ophelia, who had a knack for real-life combat, he was woefully outmatched. His punch came at her in what felt like slow motion.

She sidestepped easily, grabbed his outstretched arm, and with a swift knee to his torso, the muscular giant was on the ground, groaning. "Pathetic," she scoffed.

"What did you just say? Who's Nathan wheezed, clutching his chest, his sun-kissed face now a deep shade of purple, like he was about to burst. Anger surged through him as he thought, This is the second time. That brat... I'll make her pay!

Leaving Hastings Villa behind her, Ophelia made a phone call. "Chloe, I need you to look into someone for me. Oh, and get me a universal key card for Everland Hotel"

Two hours later, Ophelia found herself dressed in the maid's uniform at Everland Hotel, standing inside the room where Owen had spent the night with that mystery woman.

Fortunately, they had checked out early that morning to head to another city for vacation. The room hadn't been cleaned yet. She carefully picked a few strands of hair off the pillowcase, placing them into a plastic bag alongside some of Emily's hair she had brought with her.

Although she was fairly sure of the truth already, she wanted solid proof.

Just as she was about to leave, an older cleaning lady pushed her cart into the room, locking eyes with Ophelia. "Huh? I thought I was supposed to clean this room," the cleaning lady said.

"Must be a mix-up. I should be cleaning the one next door," Ophelia replied nonchalantly, pocketing the evidence bag as if nothing had happened.

The cleaning lady put on her yellow rubber gloves and began tidying up the room. "The room next door's a presidential suite. You'd better wait a bit. I just saw a group of people go in."

Ophelia hadn't paid much attention at first, but then the cleaning lady muttered to herself, "Such a shame though. That man in the next suite, he's got the looks to put any TV actor to shame. Too bad he's stuck in a wheelchair."

The word wheelchair made Ophelia freeze mid-step. Kenneth's striking face flashed through her mind.

"Hey, are you new here? I don't remember seeing you before, the cleaning lady chirped, but before she could drag Ophelia into more small talk, she had already slipped out of the room. FUME

As Ophelia passed the presidential suite, the door swung open, and a middle-aged man called out to her, "Hey, you Come clean this up."

The door stayed ajar, and the room was filled with a smoky haze. Several bodyguards in black stood at various points around the room, arms folded behind their backs, casting a suffocating atmosphere. From deeper within, the sound of things being thrown and smashed rang out.

"You useless idiots. How did Grandfather hire a bunch of such incompetents?" a man shouted furiously.

One of the subordinates replied, "Mr. Sinclair, we admit we mishandled things, but you know how your brother operates."

"Don't call him my brother. He's nothing but an illegitimate child, a shameful secret that shouldn't even exist. And now, he has the audacity to rise above me? I don't care how you do it, just pull him down from that position by any means necessary," the man roared, his voice filled with venom.

As Ophelia entered and began sweeping up the broken glass scattered across the floor, she listened in on their conversation. From the comer of her eye, she noticed a man sitting in a wheelchair, his black dress pants draping over one leg, while the other pant leg hung empty.

From what she overheard, she guessed that this man must be Patrick Sinclair, Kenneth's half-brother.

Emily had mentioned it in passing in her last life-Kenneth had seized his current position by destroying his half-brother'sContent from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

life.

The infighting within the Sinclair family was savage, with blood relations meaning little in the face of power struggles. And with a womanizing father like Noel Sinclair, who had gone through three wives and had more than a few illegitimate children, the battles for control were inevitable. Patrick was the only legitimate son, born from Noel's marriage to his first wife, which was why Kenneth and Patrick's grandfather, Ronan Sinclair, had initially supported Patrick in leading the family.

But just a year ago, Kenneth had crippled Patrick. forcing him to relinquish control. Kenneth had since taken over Sinclair Group.

Then, just a few months ago, Kenneth survived an assassination attempt and reappeared confined to a wheelchair. Rumors swirled that he didn't have much time left.

It seemed like this group had been biding their time since that incident, waiting for the perfect moment to stir up trouble.

Once Ophelia finished cleaning, two of the bodyguards ushered her out, roughly slamming the door shut behind her. But just before the door closed, she thought she heard Patrick murmur, Tonight, Avalon Port... the shipment's arriving. You all know what to do..."

She stood outside the door, replaying the details in her mind, trying to recall if anything significant had happened around this time in her last life. But truth be told, back then, she had cared so little about Kenneth that she hadn't bothered keeping track of the family's dealings.

As she left the hotel. Ophelia made two calls to Kenneth's number while on her way to Dellanex Medical Center, but both went unanswered.

In the sleek, glass-walled conference room on the top floor of the Sinclair Group building in Dellanex, Kenneth sat at the head of the table, leaning back in his wheelchair.

His eyes were closed, seemingly resting, while his fingers absentmindedly twirled the ring on his pinky. Every so often, he would cough delicately into his hand, a small, restrained sound that belied the power he wielded in the room.

The tension in the room was palpable. No one dared to breathe too loudly.

"The price you mentioned earlier-lower it by five percent," Kenneth ordered coolly, his voice carrying the sharpness of an unsheathed blade.

SIL FM

"Mr. Sinclair, the price is already extremely low," one of the regional managers stammered nervously, trying to make his case.

Kenneth slowly opened his eyes, his sharp gaze narrowing slightly. A faint smirk played at his lips, but it carried a chilling undertone. "Then lower it by fifteen percent. This is a very democratic company. I give people options."

The manager's internal monologue screamed, 'Options? You call this a choice? Five percent or fifteen percent-it's a death sentence either way"

But outwardly, he could only bow his head and mutter, "Yes, sir."

The room was filled with titans of industry, men and women used to making tough decisions and standing adversity. Yet, under Kenneth's icy gaze, they all seemed to shrink, not daring to oppose him.

tall in the face of

Since Kenneth took control of Sinclair Group a year ago, his ruthless methods and razor-sharp instincts catapulted the company to unprecedented heights, making it the world's largest conglomerate. Those who followed him made obscene amounts of money, but those who crossed him faced catastrophic consequences.

Even with his current illness" slowly weakening him, no one in the room dared to challenge the man some referred to as a ruthless monster.

Just then, Mark burst into the conference room, clutching a phone as he hurried toward Kenneth. "Mr. Kenneth, there are two calls for you. Chapter 14