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CHAPTER 450
CHAPTER 450
“Xan, it was you and your family, step by step, that pushed me to this edge. You never really respected me, to you, I was just a lapdog trying to climb up the ranks of the Nightshade family. I’ve had enough of living like this. So now, don’t blame me!” Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.
“My dear sister, why so shocked? Matt and I have been an item for quite some time now, haha!
Bom with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’ve always been the darling of the family, getting whatever you wanted whenever you wanted it. And now, your own sister and the love of your life betray you, does it hurt so bad? Are you struggling to handle it? Well, now you know how it feels!
Let me tell you, Matt never loved you, and I never considered you my sister!
All these years, I’ve been nothing but a dignity–less pet in the Nightshade family, only there to cheer you up and cater to your moods. What adopted daughter? What sister? Nobody ever truly saw me as Ms. Miranda Nightshade!
I was planning to endure it a bit longer, to wait until you and Matt got married before I made my move. But since you’ve come to me, well, just go to hell then! Once you’re gone, I’ll be the true and only heiress of the Nightshade family!”
Matthew and Miranda closed in on her, their words laced with utter irony and venom, finally pushing her off the skyscraper.
“Ahl
Xanthea, in her flowing white gown, plummeted like a fallen butterfly, her gaze filled with hatred towards those two ghastly, grinning faces.
The news of the Nightshade family and Martinez family’s alliance spread through the entire high society. Alone, Orion flew to the secluded Snake Island, where he submitted himself to the most advanced and brutal electroshock therapy available.
He suffered from a condition, a relentless obsession and longing for someone, causing him agony like a thousand ants gnawing at his heart, making life unbearable. Only the electric shocks could offer him brief respite.
Yet, even so, on the day of Xanthea’s engagement ceremony in late October, he couldn’t help but check his phone. Only this time, he didn’t find wedding news, but an obituary.
Under the bright sun, in the silent cemetery, the solitary spirit of Xanthea floated above her grave, observing a tall figure walking through the lush pine forest.
He carried a large bouquet of vibrant, eye–catching irises, ones she fancied the most when she was alive. She tilted her head, puzzled as she watched him.
Orion? What was he doing here?
The dream suddenly shifted, like a flickering film reel, flashing images of the man laughing maniacally in front of her grave, his eyes bloodshot and feverish of him, in a frenzy, digging up her grave with his bare hands until they were bloodied; of him cradling her body, kissing it as if it were the most precious treasure; of him, like a vengeful demon, methodically torturing Matthew and Miranda, before pushing them off a skyscraper.
Finally, it settled on him, his eyes filled with tender warmth, he pressed a sharp blade against his wrist, “Xannie, I’m here to join you.”
“No! Please, no! Orion, no! Orion!”
The bright red of his blood smeared the blade, blurring her tearful eyes. Xanthea woke screaming, her body trembling in terror, the Swiss Army knife dropping from her hands with a clang.
The storage room was eerily silent, the only object in sight a safe adorned with a dried iris, its blue petals stark against the metal. Her fingers trembling, she entered her birthdate, and with a whoosh, countless photos spilled out.