Revenge Of The Jilted Bride (Ophelia)

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"Hey, Heather, doesn't that girl over there look familiar? Is that your daughter?" Helena asked as she stared at Ophelia. She had seen Ophelia at their family reunion, and her striking looks left an impression.

Covering her mouth, Helena let out a light chuckle. She had always wondered why the Hastings family would suddenly adopt a daughter. It turned out that they'd taken in their own biological daughter. This was the first time she'd seen a family treat their real daughter like an adopted one.

"Oh, it really is," Sarah said in surprise and exchanged a knowing look with Helena.

Heather had just been bragging about how much she doted on her biological daughter, and now, here her daughter was working in a store. That was too awkward. Heather's face immediately turned gloomy.

Ophelia, however, didn't notice them. She was busy helping an elderly lady try on a gown. Every time Ophelia served someone older, especially one with an elegant demeanor, it reminded her of her grandmother, and she always took extra care of them. She was focused on fastening the buttons when suddenly, a hand clamped down hard on her wrist.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

"Elia, what are you doing here?" Heather asked as she tightened her grip, and there was no warmth in her voice-only accusation. It felt like she was trying to crush Ophelia's bones. "You're trying to embarrass me, aren't you?" Heather hissed under her breath, her eyes flashing with resentment.

Ophelia glanced at the two wealthy ladies nearby, who were clearly watching with interest. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. Shaking off Heather's grip, Ophelia rubbed her sore wrist, her expression growing colder and more distant by the second. "Heather, did you forget something again?"

"You're still mad at me, aren't you?" Heather's eyes shot Ophelia a warning, silently pleading with her not to say anything embarrassing. "Elia, I know you're upset with me..."

"Give me a break, please. If you want to keep up the act, go home and perform for your real daughter. I'm busy now," Ophelia said in a cold tone.

Catching the tension, Sarah teased, "Heather, your daughter doesn't seem all that close to you,

huh?"

Helena laughed behind her hand and echoed, "Can't say I'm surprised. Who makes their real daughter work here? I guess blood ties don't run as deep as the bond you form when you raise someone from birth."

"That's so true. Anyway, since this is your family business, we'll just leave the time to you," Sarah said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. With that, the two women walked off, leaving Heather standing there, seething in silence.

Heather could feel the judgmental stares from Helena and Sarah burning into her. It was like a fire were trapped in her chest, unable to escape. The scene of Emily crying and threatening to run away, saying she didn't want to be a burden to the Hastings family emerged in Heather's mind. And here Ophelia was, embarrassing her again and again.

The moment Helena and Sarah were out of sight, Heather couldn't hold back anymore. She raised her hand, aiming to slap Ophelia across the face. But Ophelia was quicker. She caught Heather's hand without hesitation and couldn't help but want to crush the bones of Heather.

Heather winced in pain and protested, "How dare you raise your hand against me? Ophelia, I'm your mother. Is this what you want? To humiliate me in front of everyone? If you were half as well-behaved as Emily, I wouldn't even consider marrying you off to that guy." Ophelia used to feel pity for Heather, but now, she thought Heather deserved everything that was coming to her. Raising another woman's child while neglecting her own-she wondered how Heather would feel when she finally learned the truth. Ophelia let out a cold laugh and released Heather's hand abruptly, causing her to stumble backward.

"Quit this job right now," Heather ordered, her voice shaking with anger. Paralet Shopping Center was Dellanex's largest

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mall, with so many people coming every day. Heather couldn't stand the humiliation that anyone saw the Hastings family's real daughter working in a store as a saleswoman.

"Let me say it again, I have cut ties with the Hastings family. Get it through your head and stop interfering in my life," Ophelia said in a firm tone.

"Your life? Without me, you wouldn't even have a life. Everyone knows you're the Hastings family's real daughter now, and by working here, you're deliberately disgracing us. I'm ordering you to quit this job." Heather growled while glaring at Ophelia. Ophelia's lips curled into a chilling smile. The sheer audacity of this family made her sick. She stared back into Heather's eyes and retorted, "You gave me life but didn't raise me. You owe me nothing but guilt. Maybe I should investigate whether I was really switched after birth, or if you abandoned me on purpose."

With that, Ophelia turned and walked upstairs without a second glance. She didn't notice how, after her last words, Heather's face went from flushed with anger to ghostly pale.

Back then, after Ophelia was born, she wasn't even a month old when Owen's mother passed away. A fortune teller had claimed Ophelia was cursed, destined to bring misfortune to her family-first her relatives, and then her parents. After her mother-in-law's sudden death, Heather had panicked and sent Ophelia to the orphanage, terrified she'd be the next victim. When she later heard Ophelia had been adopted by a decent family, she finally breathed a sigh of relief. Owen didn't want Heather to be sad and adopted Emily to ease her pain. All these years of treating Emily well was Heather's way of making up for the past.

But deep down, Heather knew she wasn't wrong back then. She gave birth to Ophelia, so Ophelia owed her. With that thought, any lingering guilt vanished from Heather's heart. She believed it was Ophelia's own fault for being such a disappointment.

*****

Meanwhile, Ophelia locked herself in her studio, drawing and ripping up sketches one after another, unable to focus. Her phone lit up with calls and notifications, but she ignored them all. She asked in her mind, 'Why? Why do I have to share the same dirty blood as those people?'

Suddenly, her pencil broke, and with it, her patience. She leaned back in her white leather chair and rubbed her temples, trying to clear her mind.

Downstairs, a sleek black SUV pulled up in front of the shop. A tall figure stepped out, his polished shoes reflecting the light with every step. Even before he entered the store, the passersby couldn't help but stare at him. Despite the black baseball cap and face mask hiding his features, his aristocratic vibe was impossible to ignore.

As soon as he walked in, the shop assistants abandoned their idle chat about dinner and scrambled to greet him. "Hello, sir, how can I help you?"

But Kenneth didn't glance at any of them. His eyes immediately landed on the staircase, and without a word, he walked upstairs.

"Sorry, sir, it is a private work area. You can't just-" one of the clerks said.

Kenneth instantly shot her an icy look, and the clerk swallowed her words and froze in place.

In the design room, Ophelia was still lounging in her chair, her eyes closed while spinning her chair idly. "Well, well, pretending to work late just to avoid spending time with me, huh?" Kenneth's deep voice sounded. Ophelia's eyes flew open, and she saw him standing right in front of her-dressed in black from head to toe. "Why are you here? Qops... I-I totally forgot it's the weekend." Her attempt at acting surprised was embarrassingly

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transparent. When her eyes met his intense gaze above the mask, her confidence faltered.

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"My waist hurts," she mumbled, her voice barely louder than a whisper. After speaking, a flush crept up her cheeks. 'Surely, he understands what I mean, right?' she thought. Kenneth walked over, scooped her up from her chair without a word, and sat down with her on his lap.

"Hey, we're at my office," she whispered, her face growing even hotter.