Revenge Of The Jilted Bride (Ophelia)

After leaving the grand hall. Ophelia slid into the car, but her mind was still lingering on what had just happened. 'So that's why, she thought. It all makes sense now. So that's why Owen, with his cold, profit-driven mindset, has always treated Emily "What's on your mind?" Kenneth's large hand landed on her head, gently turning her face toward him.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

"Nothing much, Ophelia smiled innocently, as if she hadn't just unraveled a hidden truth. She reached into a small box beside her and pulled out a neatly verapped dessert, offering it to him. "Want a taste?"

Mark, watching from the front seat, caught a glimpse through the rearview mirror. He couldn't help but be dumbfounded. He had never seen anyone in such high society circles attend a charity event and come back with snacks,

Kenneth glanced at the delicate green matcha mousse in her petite hands and then at her in that forest green gown. Does she have a thing for green? he mused.

Noticing his hesitation, Ophelia added, "It's not that sweet. You might actually like it."

"But you see," Kenneth murmured, his eyes never leaving hers, "I prefer sweet things"

"Hmm" Ophelia raised a brow in surprise. She had never seen Kenneth indulge in anything sugary before, so she naturally assumed he wasn't a fan. Apparently, they had more in common than she thought.

Before she could fully process his words, his hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer. His lips, cool and firm, claimed hers, tasting her as if he were savoring something far sweeter than the dessert she had offered. The scent of strawberries and cream filled the air between them as he ravished her soft lips as if they were alone.

Sitting at the front, Mark, ever the professional, silently raised the partition

In the rear of the car, the tension soared. Kenneth's kisses were always possessive, charged with an intensity that left Ophelia's entire body tingling. It was the kind of kiss that refused to be ignored, that pulled her into the very heat of his desire, until she was left breathless, unable to resist.

Then, just as the cake in her hands slipped, smearing across Kenneth's expensive trousers, the kiss broke.

Ophelia looked down at the ruined dessert with genuine regret, her lips still tingling. But before she could say anything. Kenneth's hand ruffled her hair with a mischievous grin.

"What are you looking at? His voice was a teasing growl "Hmm?"

Her eyes darted to where the cake had landed, and a blush crept up her cheeks. The spot was rather embarrassing. Flustered, she quickly turned her gaze to the window.

The car ride back to Rosewood Manor stretched into the deep hours of the night. At some point, without even realizing it, Ophelia dozed off. She had always loved sleeping, ever since she was a child. Sleeping meant she wouldn't feel hungry or cold. And as long as she felt safe, she could drift off in moments.

Kenneth noticed her head start to droop, and he gently rested it on his shoulder, his eyes softening as he glanced down at her. 'Still sleeps like when she was little,' he thought, an unusual tenderness flickering in his gaze.

When the car finally pulled up to Rosewood Manor, Kenneth stepped out first. As if on instinct, he reached out to cradle Ophelia's head, careful not to disturb her sleep. Then, without a second thought, he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her like she were something precious.

Mark watched the whole scene, stunned. Never had he seen Kenneth, who was infamous for his cold, ruthless demeanor, treat someone with such care. It seems Miss Ophelia holds a special place in Mr. Kenneth's heart, he thought.

The next morning, the golden sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, gentle glow across the room. The delicate rays spilled over the bed, creating a soft contrast against the cool, crisp sheets. Ophelia slowly opened her eyes, blinking as the light kissed her skin, and for a brief moment, there was nothing but peaceful silence.

She glanced at the clock-6 a.m. sharp, as always. The habit was ingrained in her, a routine she rarely broke. It took her a moment to remember where she was, but then it hit her. I must've fallen asleep in the car last night. And... Kenneth probably Chapter IE

carried me in again, she mused, stretching lazily under the covers.

As Ophelia was about to get out of bed, a strong arm suddenly wrapped around her waist, pulling her back like she were some sort of pillow. The warm breath by her ear, low and raspy, muttered. "Don't move."

Kenneth's voice was still thick with sleep.

Ophelia froze, feeling like her whole body was locked in place. Her mind raced, wondering. What's Kenneth doing in my bed?

A few moments passed, and the soft rhythm of his breathing told her he'd drifted back to sleep. Slowly, she let out a breath of relief and carefully turned around to face him.

What met her eyes was a scene straight out of a dream.

The early morning light filtered gently through the curtains, casting a soft glow over Kenneth's sharp, handsome features. His long lashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks, and his tousled hair caught the light, turning golden in the morning sun. The usual hard edges of his face seemed to soften in this moment of peace, making him look far less intimidating.

Seeing him like this stirred something quiet and calm within her. He's my husband after all, so sharing a bed isn't a big deal. right? With that thought, she grew bolder, her gaze tracing the lines of his face.

"Have you seen enough?" Kenneth's voice broke the silence, his lips barely moving. Though his eyes remained closed, his

words startled her.

But Ophelia, unflinching, shot back with a smirk, "Not nearly."

Kenneth chuckled, finally opening his eyes to meet her gaze. The deep furrow in his forehead from sleeping too hard was still there, and in the depths of his enchanting eyes, she saw her reflection.

He reached out lazily, ruffling her hair as if she were a big puppy. Then, as quickly as he'd touched her, he pulled his hand back and shut his eyes again.

"I'll give you five more minutes to stare," he teased, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

Ophelia blinked, slightly speechless. Five minutes? Seriously?"

After they both freshened up, they headed downstairs together. Kenneth led the way, with Ophelia following close behind. both descending the grand staircase like a royal procession.

Mark and his father Liam, waiting in the hall a long time ago, turned to look at the staircase and exchanged a glance, their minds filled with unsaid questions. The sight of these two coming down together in the morning left little to the imagination about what might have happened the night before.

"Mr. Kenneth, Miss Ophelia, breakfast is ready," Liam said as he stepped forward.

Kenneth's expression darkened slightly, his voice filled with displeasure. "What did you call her?"

Liam quickly corrected himself, "Ah, I meant Mrs. Ophelia."

Kenneth's face softened, clearly satisfied. He took Ophelia's small hand in his, led her to the dining room, and sat her down gently at the table.

Mark, ever the diligent worker, prepared to give Kenneth his morning report when his eyes instinctively flickered toward Ophelia, sitting quietly across from Kenneth. There was a moment of hesitation in his eyes, but before he could decide whether to continue, Kenneth gave a subtle nod.

"It's fine. Go ahead, Kenneth said, lifting his cup of coffee to his lips with an elegance that came naturally to him. Even in something as mundane as breakfast, his presence commanded the room, like a king presiding over his domain.

This was exactly like the man she remembered from her last life-never hiding anything from her, even when discussing matters of the vast Sinclair empire.

Not that it made much difference. The inner workings of the massive corporation were beyond her understanding, and the details of their business dealings often blurred into background noise. So, Ophelia simply focused on her meal, quietly nibbling at her breakfast, occasionally glancing at her phone to check her messages.

As she took a bite of her sandwich, a notification popped up. It was a bank transfer. After deducting the portion meant for

Chapter li

charity, she'd received around four million dollars-a tidy sum that would allow her to open a boutique in one of the prime areas of Dellanes.

Ophelia was determined to turn her vision into reality, opening the La Reverie evening gown store in Dellanex-finally fulfilling the dream she couldn't achieve in her last life.

Just as she was making plans in her head, she stumbled upon the entertainment news headline "Rising starlet Emily Hastings

drunk and falls into the fountain.

As she sipped her milk, she caught sight of the video attached in the article where Emily, face buried in her hands, was hilariously tossed into a fountain.

The editors had even slowed down the footage and replayed the moment three times, highlighting the perfect are as she tumbled into the water. Ophelia nearly choked on her drink, the milk almost spewing out in a fit of laughter.

She thought. They're saying she fell? It's obvious someone threw her in there. Whoever did it, bless their soul. It's about time the Hastings family had some bad luck. The more misfortune they get, the happier I'll be."

But she knew this was just the beginning-the Hastings family's downfall was only going to get worse.

At that moment, the very man behind Emily's little "accident across the table calmly fetched a piece of napkin. His elegant fingers reached across and tenderly wiped the milk from the corner of her mouth.

"Focus on your food and stop watching that nonsense. Kenneth's tone was stern, but there was a hint of affection there, too. Ophelia blinked at the unexpected gesture, momentarily surprised. "Is he treating me like a little kid now?" Mark, on the other hand, was trying his best not to laugh, utterly speechless. 'Mr. Kenneth wiping her mouth like that... He's acting more like a concerned father than anything else.