chapter 110
chapter 110
Linet sat alone in her tiny apartment, the flickering light from the television screen casting shadows on the pale, unwashed walls. The soft hum of wedding bells from a commercial echoed around her, and she quickly muted it, her hands trembling with rage.
Her phone buzzed again — another forwarded video of Rita and Adrian’s engagement party. Laughter. Cheers. That perfect slow dance. Lydia glowing beside her fiancé. The Drakes celebrating like royalty.
"Why her?" Linet whispered through clenched teeth. “Why does she get everything?”
She tossed the phone across the bed and stood up, pacing. Her once pristine nails were now bitten down, her eyes slightly sunken from sleepless nights. Nothing seemed to work out for her anymore. Not the fake pregnancy. Not her plan to secure Francis. Not her threats. Nothing.
And now, Rita — the same girl Linet once humiliated publicly — was about to become Mrs. Drake, the wife of the richest, most powerful man in the city.
It was unbearable.
She looked around at her surroundings. Peeling paint. A leaky sink. Cheap furniture. She had traded everything — dignity, integrity, even decency — in pursuit of luxury, only to be left with nothing.
Her stomach turned.
No. She wouldn’t accept this fate.
She turned back to the mirror. Her face twisted into a bitter smirk. “If I can’t have happiness,” she muttered, “then she won’t either.”
Linet opened her drawer and pulled out a tattered notebook — the one she had once used to write down her plans to trap Francis. But now… new plans were forming. Crueler ones.
She scribbled names. Venues. Dates.
She knew exactly where the wedding would take place. She had overheard enough from her old contacts and mutual acquaintances. She had nothing left to lose — and that made her dangerous.
But deep down, a whisper tugged at her spirit — a sliver of conscience.
Stop now, before it’s too late.
She shook it off.
The next day, Linet disguised herself in a cap and sunglasses and visited an old friend — or rather, an old mistake — Roy, a man she had once manipulated into doing her dirty work.
“I need a favor,” she said, her voice icy and calm.
Roy eyed her warily. “Last time you said that, I ended up in jail for two months.”
“This time you won’t,” she assured. “I just need you to deliver something. To the wedding.”
Roy raised an eyebrow. “What kind of something?”
“A warning. Just a reminder… that not everyone is celebrating.”
He hesitated. “You’re playing with fire, Linet.”
“I’ve already been burned,” she hissed. “Now it’s their turn.”
Meanwhile, news of Rita and Adrian’s upcoming wedding dominated headlines. Social media was buzzing. "City’s Royal Wedding," one blog called it. Lydia and Ethan were also trending — people praised the strength and comeback of the Hartman sisters.
But Linet? She was nowhere in the narrative. Forgotten. Erased. Replaced.
It was the final straw.
That night, she sat in the dark and whispered to herself, “If they want war, I’ll give them one. And this time… they won’t see me coming.”
The estate buzzed with excitement.
The Drakes’ grand home was transformed into a palace of preparations — florists arrived in waves, decorators worked with glittering chandeliers and silk drapes, and the scent of roses filled the air. Everyone moved with a sense of urgency. The wedding of Rita and Adrian was just days away, and the event was expected to be the grandest of the decade.
Rita stood in front of her full-length mirror, dressed in her final fitting — a delicate lace gown with pearl embroidery. She looked like royalty. But despite the beauty that surrounded her, her heart beat with unease.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” asked Mrs. Drake gently as she entered the room.
Rita hesitated. “I... I don’t know. I just feel like something is off. Like… we’re being watched.”
Mrs. Drake smiled kindly and kissed her forehead. “It’s just the nerves, dear. Every bride feels that before her big day.”
But Rita wasn’t so sure.
Later That Day
Adrian received a disturbing message on his private email — one only close family members knew. No subject line. No signature.
“You can’t protect them forever. Some fairy tales end in blood.”
He stared at it, his jaw tightening. He immediately checked the baby monitor feeds for the twins — both were sleeping peacefully at the secure Drake hideout, just as he had arranged.
He quickly called his head of security. “Tighten everything. No deliveries without vetting. Check everyone. No exceptions.”
That Night
The cake designer arrived with what was supposed to be a final sample. But the flavor was all wrong — not just wrong, bitter. Upon testing, the chef discovered it had been laced with a mild sedative.
“How did this get past security?” Adrian barked.
The chef, pale, stammered. “I… I don't know. The girl who delivered it wore the company uniform. I assumed—”
“Find her. Now.”
Rita’s Room
That evening, Rita found her veil shredded and thrown in the fireplace.
Her hands trembled as she picked up the charred remains. “Who would do this?” she whispered.
No one had entered her room besides the stylists and decorators. Or so they thought.
Mrs. Drake rushed in, eyes wide. “What is it?”
Rita handed her the ruined fabric with shaking fingers.
The older woman’s face hardened. “No more chances. We’re hiring private security for the next 72 hours. I’ll call Adrian now.”
Meanwhile... in the shadows
Linet stood outside the estate’s outer wall, cloaked in black, watching the lights flicker from Rita’s suite. Her lips curled into a twisted smile.
“They think it’s just bad luck,” she whispered. “But soon… luck will have nothing to do with it.”