Revenge Of The Jilted Bride (Ophelia)

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19

The grand venue was in absolute chaos. Emily, standing at the center of it all, looked like a clown trapped in a circus ring surrounded by an audience that didn't bother hiding their judgment.

Some even whipped out their phones, snapping pictures without mercy. Owen, her father, was quick to rush over, draping his suit jacket around Emily's shoulders in a feeble attempt to shield her from further humiliation. This party is over," he announced, his voice tight with embarrassment.

Harry summoned the security team, trying to usher the crowd out as quickly as possible. What had started as a glamorous birthday celebration had turned into a public disaster.

Just then, a server appeared, wheeling out an enormous eight-tiered cake, the words "Happy Birthday, Emily. May all your wishes come true iced across the top in pristine, elegant letters,

The birthday song played once again, but this time, the tone felt painfully ironic-a cruel echo of how things were supposed

to be.

Everland Hotel's unique circular architecture made it easy for Ophelia to observe everything from the balcony on the third floor. She sat comfortably, nibbling at a delicate pastry, watching the spectacle below with an almost imperceptible smirk. "Happy birthday, Emily, she whispered, her voice laced with amusement. She knew Emily's ploys all too well. Trying to stir rumors with my man? Did you ask for my permission?

Although Miles had supposedly rented out the entire floor for Emily's party, the unpaid bill still loomed over them.

As Owen and his family made their hasty retreat, the hotel manager hurried after them, holding out an imposing bill. "Mr. Hastings, the total for tonight comes to 310 thousand dollars. Also, 170 thousand for the roses, and 3 million for venue rental and service charges. Altogether, that's 3.71 million dollars."

"What?" Owen's face turned ashen, the bill nearly sending him into a fit of cardiac arrest. Not only had they failed to maintain. any sense of dignity, but they were facing an outrageous cost,

As she watched the Hastings family's disarray, Ophelia's smile deepened, a satisfied glint in her eyes. This is only the beginning,' she thought, savoring the small victory

After leaving Everland Hotel, Ophelia hailed a taxi and headed to a large amusement park nestled in the western suburbs. After purchasing a ticket, she wandered leisurely through the park, enjoying the night air and occasionally hopping onto one of the rides. Soaking up the joyful atmosphere of laughter and excitement, she picked up a free balloon here and a free slice of cake there.

At 10 p.m. sharp, a countdown began, and the excitement in the crowd grew, Three, two, one... Fireworks exploded into the night sky, painting it with bursts of vibrant red, blue, and golden illuminating the world below in fleeting brilliance. Each burst seemed to pulse with life as if the stars themselves had come to celebrate.

Ophelia stood there, her angelic face bathed in the shimmering glow, her eyes wide as she gazed up at the spectacle. She then closed her eyes and silently made a wish. The lights danced on her face, flickering like tiny embers of hope.

By the time she left the park, it was already past eleven.

She stopped by a convenience store, picking up a few cans of beer and a pack of candies, before setting off on a long, quiet walk down the empty streets. In the distance, she could faintly hear the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. She was getting close.

The further she walked, the narrower the road became, the soft glow of streetlights facting into darkness until there was nothing but shadows.

The closer she got to the sea, the stronger the pungent smell of rotting fish and bring water became, an odor so overpowering it would make most people retch. But for Ophelia, it was a familiar scent-one she had known her whole life.

At the end of the road stood a long, crumbling concrete wall, half of it collapsed into rubble. Ophelia climbed up and perched herself on the edge, gazing out at the dark sea in the distance.

A few old fishing boats bobbed in the water, their lights long extinguished. Along the shore were makeshift shacks constructed

from scrap metal and tattered fabric, looking more like ruins than homes.

This was the westside slum, the place Ophelia had called home for as long as she could remember.

Gabrielle once told her that, a hundred years ago, this area had been the heart of Dellanex's thriving coast-close to the docks and bustling with life.

But a reclamation project decades ago had turned the place into a cesspool of pollution. The harbor reeked of decayed fish and toxic waste, leaving the land useless, unwanted. Eventually, it became a dumping ground, a forgotten slum where no one dared to invest or even set foot. They said the materials used to reclaim the land were poisonous, leaving the land contaminated and unfit for development. No one dared to return, and over time, it had morphed into the worst slum in Dellanex.

It was hard to believe that a city as vibrant and modern as Dellanex could have such a neglected, squalid corner. Just across the way, skyscrapers gleamed with light, standing tall against the night, while here, everything was consumed by darkness and dampness. The stark contrast made the reality even more jarring

Ophelia cracked open a can of beer, took a swig, and unwrapped a piece of candy, popping it into her mouth. "Happy birthday, Ophelia," she muttered to herself, the words slipping out as if they held no weight

This was her first birthday since Heather told her she and Emily shared the same birth date after she was brought back to the family, making her the elder sister-at least, in title. Heather made it clear that she ought to take care of Emily

Her last life had given her five years of this bitter celebration. At first, she had been thrilled to know her own birthday finally, but it soon became clear that no one else remembered or even cared

Everyone's attention was always on Emily. All anyone cared about was that it was Emily's day. Gifts piled up for her, while Ophelia waited in the shadows, sneaking a piece of cake after Emily blew out her candles.

Lifting her drink toward the night sky, she whispered, "Ophella, in this life, be happy. Don't let yourself down. Don't let him down... The bitterness in her heart mingled with the sharp taste of beer as she took a long drink.

Four cans in, and she was still sober. Ophelia could hold her liquor better than most, but now, her thoughts drifted back to Gabrielle-the only person who had ever treated her like family.

If she had never seen the sun, she could've been content in the darkness. If she had never known love, perhaps she wouldn't have spent her last life yearning for it. Blood ties didn't mean family; she understood that now, after everything

Her eyes burned, her throat tightened, but she refused to cry. She shoved the rest of the candy into her mouth, thinking bitterly. "Why doesn't it taste as sweet as the ones Gabrielle used to buy?

"So much sugar? Aren't you worried it'll rot your teeth?" A voice cut through the quiet night, low and teasing.

"What?" Ophelia jolted, startled. Turning her head, she saw the impossibly handsome face of Kenneth emerging from the shadows, the moonlight casting a soft glow around him, making him look almost otherworldly.

"You.. Why are you here?" she mumbled through a mouthful of candy, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel storing nuts. Her voice came out garbled, and she shook her head, wondering if she was seeing things. Am I hallucinating? Why would Kenneth be here of all places? Her head felt heavy, and her body swayed as she lost her balance, leaning backward. Before she could fall, a strong hand caught her, steadying her as Kenneth effortlessly pulled himself up to sit beside her on the crumbling wall, one hand bracing against the rough concrete. Ophelia chewed furiously, forcing the candy down as her eyes met Kenneth's piercing, predatory gaze. For some reason, guili prickled at her skin. She had no idea why she felt that way, but it was like he could see straight through her. Fumbling for something to say, the wordlessly opened her last can of beer and thrust it toward him with a playful smile. "Want

some?"

"Do you have a death wish?" Kenneth's words were clipped. his eyes narrowing at the empty cans around her. She'd already downed four?" His irritation spiked, but a part of him grudgingly admired her tolerance.

When he didn't take the can, Ophelia shrugged and brought it back to her lips, the darkness helping her ignore the stern look on his face. "I'm not trying to die. It's taken me long enough just to get to this point in my life, she quipped. tipping her head 5.45 PM ď ď

back for another gulp.

Kenneth reached out and snatched the can from her, downing it in one go before crushing it effortlessly in his hand "Borgh We're going home. Now."

"Nope," Ophelia replied, shaking her head. "I want to stay. I'm waiting for the sunrise

Kenneth, known for his icy demeanor, found himself uncharacteristically patient, though his irritation simmered just below. the surface. Just as he was about to insist again, Ophelia's head slumped against his shoulder, her breath warm against his nerk "Stay with me, Kenneth," she murmured, her voice softened by the alcohol, "I want you to watch the sunrise with me?

Ophelia, with a faint hint of intoxication, grew holder. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around his waist, nestling her face against his chest. "I'm cold... hold me, she whispered, her breath hitching slightly as she cuddled closer.

Her soft body pressed against him, her head nuzzling against his chest, was almost too much. Kenneth's heart pounded as though he'd just run a race, the calm mask he wore cracking for a moment.

For a moment, he froze, his hands braced against the wall, unsure how to react. He allowed her to cling to him, feeling the warmth of her body against his own. Then, his sharp voice broke through the stillness, laced with a mix of irritation and concern.

"Cold? You're out here in the middle of the night, and you're surprised you're freezing? If you freeze out here, you'd deserve it His voice was rough, but he couldn't stop himself from wrapping one arm around her, pulling her in tight as he shrugged off his black trench coat and bundled it around her small frame.