Revenge Of The Jilted Bride (Ophelia)

Chapter 5

Karen sniffled, her expression pitiful as she turned her teary eyes towards Kenneth. "Mr. Kenneth, Miss Ophelia treats us maids like we weren't even human. Whenever something displeases her, she takes it out on us. You must help us" Kenneth sat in his wheelchair like a king on a throne, the smooth twist of his long fingers playing with the ring on his pinky. There was something about him that was oppressive, almost suffocating to look at.

From the moment he entered, his sharp gaze was glued to Ophelia. She stood there, her nose a bit red, looking strangely vulnerable. He thought to himself. Wasn't she just fierce a moment ago? Is she scared now

He chuckled darkly. "You've got me to back you up, so why bother getting your hands dirty yourself?"

The words left his mouth, and Karen froze, her face draining of color. She blinked, completely dumbfounded, as if she had misheard him.

Kenneth's voice was casual, like he was discussing the weather, but the words sent a chill through Karen's spine. "Cut off her tongue and feed it to the fish in the pond."

"Mr. Kenneth. no... I was wrong. I'm so sorry. Please, have mercy on me." Karen stammered, panic creeping into her voice.

Without hesitation. Mark, Kenneth's right-hand man, shot a glance at the bodyguards. They immediately grabbed Karen by the arms and began to drag her away.

"Mr. Kenneth. please... Karen's screams grew fainter until they disappeared entirely. The other servants stood trembling, pale as ghosts, their eyes wide in terror.

Kenneth's gaze remained cold and imperious. "Anyone else?" he asked, his tone leaving no room for argument, like an overprotective father about to stand up for his child

Ophelia glanced at the remaining maids, her stare like that of a predator eyeing its prey. As soon as they caught her gaze, the young maids' legs gave out, and they dropped to their knees, trembling uncontrollably: "Miss Ophelia, this is all a huge misunderstanding. It was all Karen. We didn't do anything.....

"I don't need this many people around." Ophelia said calmly, her gaze directed at Mark. "Let them all go

Mark raised an eyebrow and looked to Kenneth for confirmation. Kenneth gave the smallest nod, his expression unreadable. but it was enough.

"As you wish," Mark replied and took the hint, slipping out of the room quietly.

Now alone, the dining room felt much more intimate, the silence between Ophelia and Kenneth charged with unspoken tension. Ophelia's eyes lingered on Kenneth, her thoughts muddled. She had no idea when he had fallen in love with her in her last life, to the point of dying for her.

Yet this version of Kenneth, so cold and ruthless, had made her uneasy back then. She had feared him so much in the past. But not anymore. Now, she only wanted to make things right with him, no matter what it took

Kenneth's voice broke through her thoughts, low and subtle. "So willing to marry a cripple?"

Ophelia's gaze flicked to his legs. Her earlier sadness faded, and she scoffed inwardly, Cripple? What a joke: She remembered all too well the nights from her last life when he had held her down, ravaging her with a strength that didn't match the sickly image he presented now.

If she hadn't lived through it once already, she might've actually believed it.

"What if I told you I didn't marry willingly? Would you let me go then?" she asked, her voice soft but tinged with defiance

"Not a chance," he shot back without missing a beat, his answer coming almost before she finished her question

Exactly what I thought. Ophelia mused, a wry smile tugging at her lips, mischievous like a fox that had just outsmarted a hunter "Well then, let me introduce myself properly. Im Ophelia Spencer Age twenty. No bad habits. Recently cut ties with the Hastings family Currently unattached"

A brief silence followed before Kenneth's deep, gravelly voice responded, "Kenneth Sinclair. Age twenty-five. Moody. No boundaries Possessive extremely possessive

Chapter 3

At the mention of "possessive", his gaze darkened, and the heat in his eyes was enough to set the air on fire. It was as if he could devour her whole just by looking at her.

They locked eyes for what felt like an eternity, the tension between them thick enough to slice with a knife. Finally, Kenneth's lips quirked into a slow, indulgent smile, as though amused by her audacity.

In all of Heloria, no one except her dared to hold his gaze like she did.

"Are y

you not afraid of me?" Kenneth asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

The name Kenneth Sinclair wasn't just any name. In Heloria, it was synonymous with power, wealth, and danger. Everyone. knew what it meant to cross paths with him.

Though Ophelia hadn't known much about him in her last life, it was only later, through Emily, that she learned the full extent of Kenneth's power.

He wasn't just the head of Heloria's largest conglomerate; he controlled nearly seventy percent of the country's economy, dominating land, sea, and air transport. A flick of his wrist could send shockwaves through the entire nation.

It was a name that sent most people running in fear. But now, as Ophelia stared back at him, she found she wasn't afraid

Ophelia arched a brow, her gaze sharp yet playful as she teased, "Should I be afraid of you? Her lips curved into a daring smirk. "You're my man. What's there to fear?"

Her long lashes framed a pair of beautiful, vibrant eyes, flickering with both curiosity and mischief. If Kenneth was expecting anything less from her, he was sorely mistaken-she knew exactly how to play this game.

Kenneth's eyes narrowed slightly, one palm upturned, as if waiting for her next move. His gaze bore into her, a silent challenge lingering in the air between them.

Ophelia hesitated briefly before placing her delicate hand in his, feeling the rough warmth of his skin.

For a fleeting moment, his grip tightened-like he could snap her bones if he wanted-before releasing her, leaving her hand tingling in its wake.

"So soft. Kenneth's voice held a teasing note, his lips curling into a sly smile.

'Pervert, Ophelia mused inwardly, rolling her eyes. She had almost forgotten just how twisted Kenneth could be.

She yanked her hand back and took a step away, pouting slightly as a hint of defiance danced on her gorgeous face. "Mr.. Sinclair," she began, her voice sweet yet challenging, "are you going to stay in that wheelchair forever in front of me Kenneth's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as they bore into her.

"That day you carried me out of the bathtub," she continued with a knowing grin. "you were walking perfectly fine. In fact, you were pretty quick on your feet,"

Her smile widened as she thought, 'Did he really think sending a maid the next day would fool me? She could still remember that same fresh, woodsy scent clinging to him that she had noticed when he carried her-unmistakably Kenneth

Slowly, Kenneth rose from the wheelchair, towering over her like a looming shadow. Six feet three tall, he cast a heavy presence, the air around them thick with his dominance. His sudden movement confirmed what she already knew-he'd been faking it. He had returned the other day only to check if she was the one he had been looking for all along

He tilted her chin up with two fingers, his voice icy as he murmured. "Aren't you afraid I'll cut out that sharp little tongue of

yours too?

"Oh, I'm afraid." Ophelia's eyes gleamed with a dangerous confidence. But I'm even more afraid you'd miss it too much Her gaze, defiant and unwavering, locked onto his, the faint mole beneath her eye only adding to the fierce beauty of her expression. She was testing him, prodding at hus limits, daring him to go further,

Kenneth's hand slid from her chin to the back of her neck, drawing her closer. She looked so innocent, like a little doe, yet there was something wild and untamed lurking behind those big, doe-like eyes. Her lips-so pink and soft-parted slightly as she spoke, revealing white teeth that could tempt any man to sin

Chapher

"Sharp tongue," Kenneth remarked before swooping down, capturing her lips in a kiss thai was anything but gentle. He kissed like he wanted to claim her soul-no toom for breath, no space for resistance. The faint taste of tobacco lingered on his lips as he pressed harder, devouring her completely.

When he finally pulled away, her lips were thushed, and his thumb brushed against the redness he'd caused. "Mind" he murmured, clearly satisfied. "I guess I couldn't."

The atmosphere between them shifted, thick with tension.

Mt. Kenneth. Mark's hesitant voice broke through the charged moment, but he instantly regretted it when Kenneth shot him a deathly glare

Mark quickly averted his eyes in embarrassment, muttering, "Mr. Kenneth, your grandfather's making

e moves?

Ophelia couldn't see Kemeth's face from this angle, but she could feel the sudden rise and fall of his chest. Before she could process it, his large hand landed on her head, his fingers threading through her hair.

Kenneth's voice was low, dangerously smooth, "Little one, you better behave. As long as you do, you can have whatever you want. No matter how much trouble you stir up, I'll clean it up for you. But if you don't..." His tone turned cold, the weight of his words sinking into the room like ice.

He lifted her chin again, forcing her to meet his gaze, his eyes hard and merciless. "I'll personally break both your legs. Even if all that's left of you is a lifeless body, it'll still bear my name. Understand?"

Ophelia stared right back at him, her voice steady as she retorted, "Same goes for you. You're mine. Only mine."

For a split second, Kenneth's hardened expression softened into something almost like amusement. He chuckled, low and indulgent, ruling her hair like she was a pet. "That's my girl, he thought with pride. 'She has guts. I'll give her that.' Kenneth's touch was rough as he patted her head, but not without a trace of affection. He was far from gentle, yet somehow, it

suited him.

Moments later, he settled back into his wheelchair, pulling out a sleek black card from his pocket and holding it out to her. "As my girl, you shouldn't have to settle for anything less."

Ophelia glanced at her attire and, without a second thought, accepted the card with a casual smirk. For her, there was no need for modesty now. She'd be hitting up the finest mall in Dellanex tomorrow.