Revenge Of The Jilted Bride (Ophelia)

Chapter

27

The two beefy guys stepped forward, each one aiming to grab one of Ophelia's arms and force her to her knees. Just as one of them reached out, his wrist was suddenly seized in a grip. His body lurched forward uncontrollably. Before he could steady himself, a hard kick slammed into his chest and sent him flying.

The other guy stood there, arm still outstretched, watching the whole scene unfold in front of him. By the time it clicked that Ophelia was coming for him next, it was too late. His arm bent at a freakish angle.

The sickening sound of bone snapping echoed through the alley, followed by his agonized scream, which sliced through the quiet night.

The cameraman saw it all through the lens, and panic surged through him. He stumbled backward, choking on his words. "B-boss..."

Before he could finish, the camera was kicked right out of his hands, smashed into the wall, and shattered into pieces. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, and then his body slammed into the side of the van, hard enough that he thought his ribs might crack. The leader, lounging with his cigarette, snapped to attention. For a moment, he stood frozen, the cigarette burning down to his fingers. It wasn't until it scorched his skin that he flinched and dropped it. His gaze darted between his fallen men and Ophelia, and he looked at her with pure fear. "W-who the hell are you?" asked the leader.

Ophelia stepped out of the shadows, blinked her wide, innocent eyes, and replied, "The one you were looking for. Her voice was soft and sweet, but it sent shivers down the man's spine.

The last guy standing, a huge, slow-witted brute, started backing away while stuttering, "B-boss, m-maybe... you should deal with her..." "Deal my ass! RUN!" said the leader.

Right then, the alley lit up like it were broad daylight. Five SUVS pulled up, with headlights blinding, and boxed them in from all sides.

Black-suited bodyguards, clearly well-trained, poured out of the vehicles and formed a tight circle around the group. Each one had a gun holstered at their waist. In Heloria, guns were legal, but not everyone could afford them.

The sight of the armed guards sent the mob into a full-blown panic. The leader was the first to fold. He immediately threw his hands up

and dropped to a crouch beside the van, with his hands over his head in surrender.

The other four guys, groaning from their injuries, quickly followed their boss's lead, raising their hands and crouching down. 'What the hell is this? We never signed up for this kind of mess,' they complained in their minds. Ophelia scratched behind her ear, a little surprised herself. She hadn't expected things to escalate this much. Who would have thought that so many people had been protecting her all this time?

"Madam, are you alright?" The young man leading the guards, with a strong, rugged face, asked respectfully. Judging by the scene, not only was she fine, but the other side had definitely taken the brunt of the damage. "I'm fine," Ophelia replied casually.

Just then, their leader's phone rang. Ophelia strolled over and extended her delicate hand with her palm up. The man froze for a second and stared at that small hand, wondering how the hell it had just wrecked his crew like that. Phone," Ophelia said..

The man immediately snapped out of it, nodding and bowing as he fumbled for the phone from the van and handed it over with both hands.

13:55 Sun, Nov 10 BOU.

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Ophelia answered the call, and a familiar voice came through. "What's taking so long? It's just one woman. How hard can it

be?"

"Nathan, you really thought sending a bunch of kids would teach me a lesson?" Ophelia's voice dripped with sarcasm. On the other end, Nathan almost dropped the phone when he heard Ophelia's voice.

"Cat got your tongue, my dear brother?" Ophelia's tone was sharp, and the word "brother" was laced with mockery. In her last life, Nathan had done this plenty of times, all to defend Emily. Ophelia had endured this kind of humiliation more times than she could count. She always swallowed her pride, hoping Nathan would stop. But the more she tolerated, the worse it got.

The line suddenly went dead. Ophelia glanced at the phone and then tossed it back into the van. She looked at the group of men still crouched on the ground, and a new idea struck her.

Ophelia said, "Whatever they're paying you, I'll double it. I want the same kind of video he asked you to film. If you pull it off, I'll let you go. If not..."

"We can, definitely can," those guys replied in unison before Ophelia finished her words.

'Like we have a choice. These bodyguards and this woman are clearly not to be messed with. If we say no, we'll be buried in the flowerbeds by morning,' they thought.

Ophelia climbed into one of the cars with a bodyguard, and the convoy set off toward Rosewood Manor. As the French fry stand grew smaller in the distance, she made a vow to herself that she would definitely get those fries tomorrowRêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

The next day was the weekend and normally Ophelia would spend her time at home, but staying there too long would make her waist ache. So, early in the morning, she headed to the studio instead.

The store was on the first floor, with the studio upstairs. Chloe usually handled everything, but today, she had to take Wyatt to the hospital for a check-up.

Since the free promotion, La Reverie had become the new status symbol for high society. It became a big deal to get a custom-made gown from La Reverie, even if it was rented for a party or celebration.

To meet the growing demand, they hired more staff and assistants, but even with the extra hands, the store was swamped on weekends. Thus, Ophelia went downstairs to help out.

Meanwhile, on the top floor of Paralet Shopping Center, three wealthy ladies were lying on spa beds with face masks on in a beauty salon.

"Helena, I heard you got a custom gown from Fashion Ladies last week. How much did it set you back?" asked Sarah, the eldest daughter-in-law of the Brooks family.

"Eh, just seventy thousand dollars," Helena said, her voice dripping with pride.

"I hear that La Reverie is downstairs in this mall. Why don't we check it out later?" suggested Sarah. She glanced at the woman lying furthest inside, as if something just crossed her mind, and said, "By the way, Heather, your daughter rented a gown from there recently, right?" "Uh..." Heather mumbled, clearly uncomfortable. Ever since that whole mess with their two daughters hit the Internet, she hadn't been out shopping with these women in a while. She never thought even at a beauty appointment, they'd bring it up. She believed Emily was too honest. If only she had spoken up sooner, none of that drama would've happened.

And how much did you end up paying after the gown got damaged?" Sarah asked, feigning curiosity.

"Oh, not much, just seven million dollars," Heather replied in a nonchalant tone.

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Helena, who had just been bragging about her $70,000 gown, was clearly annoyed. 'What a show-off, she scoffed in her mind.

Sarah said in surprise, "Oh my, seven million, huh? And you call it not much? Heather, you're so generous. You treat your adopted daughter that well; I can't imagine how spoiled your real daughter must be."

Heather forced a smile, and replied in an awkward tone, "They're my daughters, after all."

After their spa treatments, the three women headed downstairs and arrived at the entrance to La Reverie.

"Doesn't look decent at all," Helena remarked with a hint of bitterness.

"Oh, come on, we're here. Let's at least take a look," Sarah suggested.

They stepped inside, and as they examined the gowns on display, it became clear that these weren't their typical gowns. The embroidery was exquisite, the stitching was flawless, and even the design seemed to elevate the gowns above anything else they'd seen.

Helena, always thinking of herself as above it all, crossed her arms and glanced around the store with little interest. She couldn't understand why anyone would be foolish enough to spend so much on custom gowns. But then, something caught her eye. She squinted, focusing on someone in the distance.