Remarriage Failed Again Today

Chase Lynch watched her coolly, the corner of his mouth curling into a bewitching arc. "You still have unfinished business. Your father is still in prison. Don’t you want to get him out? Work with me. I’ll help you get everything you want, help you get your revenge, and help you take back everything that belongs to you. Is that reason tempting enough?"

’That’s right, Dad is still in prison. I can get him out.’

But she was well aware of how dangerous Chase Lynch was. If she continued to work with him, there would be no way out for her.

’But do I even care about that anymore?’

She no longer cared about life or death. The only thing keeping her alive now was the thought of revenge.

’I will make everyone who bullied me wish they were dead! I’ll avenge Mom!’

In truth, the judgments and decisions a person makes at the height of their emotions are the most unreliable.

Vivian Yates was simply blinded by hatred.

Even if Annabelle Linton hated her, she would never have dragged anyone else into it.

For everything Mrs. Yates had done to her, Annabelle had taken the matter to court, seeking the fairest possible judgment. She hadn’t interfered in the slightest.

She hadn’t said a single word about what happened in the prison.

As Vivian Yates seethed with hatred for Annabelle Linton, had she never stopped to wonder why Chase Lynch had access to surveillance footage from inside the prison?

People’s lives might be treated as disposable in prison, but it wasn’t so lawless that a guard could kill someone and face no consequences. So why was that?

It was all arranged by Chase Lynch.

But Vivian Yates, drowning in her grief, was incapable of rational thought.

Chase Lynch walked up beside her and said in a tempting, coaxing voice, "As long as you get pregnant with Leona Grant’s child, I’ll give you everything you desire."

Hearing this, Vivian Yates instantly deflated.

Although she truly hated Annabelle Linton and wanted to see her suffer a slow, painful death, she had to admit that Annabelle was just too smart.

Take this recent incident, for example. She thought she hadn’t given anything away, that her performance had been flawless, yet she’d still been exposed somehow.

’She really is a terrifying woman.’

As if reading her mind, Chase Lynch opened his palm and handed her a small bottle filled with a dark green liquid.

"This is a newly developed drug. When the time is right, you can use it to separate those two. Hmm?"

Vivian Yates took the bottle gleefully and asked with excitement, "And the antidote?"

Chase Lynch’s answer was firm. "There is no antidote."

Vivian Yates was taken aback. "None?"

"That’s right."

In truth, there was one, but it was so precious that it might as well not exist.

With that, he handed her another bottle of medicine, this one white. "This can alleviate the symptoms, but it’s not a cure. Use it with caution."

Vivian Yates stared at the vials in her hand, her expression turning sinister.

’Annabelle Linton, this time, I’ll make sure you die a miserable death!’

Chase Lynch watched her and warned in a heavy voice, "Don’t use that drug on Annabelle Linton. Annabelle Linton cannot die."

’She still has another, greater purpose to serve.’

When Vivian Yates heard this, a sharp glint flashed in her eyes. ’Not let her die?’

’Heh. In your dreams.’

...

Annabelle Linton had been stuck at Leona Grant’s company for several days now.

It was completely ridiculous. She was only supposed to stop by for lunch one day, but now she was being dragged to the office with Leona first thing every morning.

’Fine, going to the office is one thing,’ she thought. ’I work at a hospital and have never worked in a corporate setting like this, so it’s good to see something new. But why...’

"Where were you? You were gone for a full ten minutes and twenty-five seconds," Leona Grant demanded, her face dark.

She had just stepped out for a moment, accidentally bumped into a handsome young man carrying some documents, and helped him pick them up. That was all.

’Ten minutes and twenty-five seconds?’

’Who keeps track that precisely?’