Chapter 6

That night, I slept unusually well.

Since my rebirth, I hadn't spent a single moment without hatred.

Today, witnessing Mitchell and Brielle's public disgrace, with Heath showing no obvious favoritism toward them, marked a promising beginning.

Late at night, my throat became unbearably dry, so I got up for water.

Half-asleep, I headed downstairs, only to hear faint sobbing coming from the living room.

I paused, quietly stepping into the shadows at the second-floor corner to peer below.

Brielle was kneeling before Heath, clutching his sleeve, her eyes swollen from crying.

"Dad, I truly regret what I did. I know I was wrong. Please forgive me this once—don't be disappointed in me."

From my vantage point, Heath stood with his back to me, hands clasped behind him, spine rigid.

Though I couldn't see his expression, his tense posture revealed no softening or sympathy toward Brielle.

Heath's hands tightened at his sides. Without looking down at her, his voice filled with disappointment, "Brielle, you caused a scene at your sister's engagement party, carrying on with Mitchell in that inappropriate manner. How can I not be disappointed? What good does crying do now?"

"But there's nothing between us! And that video is fake—it's fabricated!" Brielle looked up, her face streaked with tears.

Heath yanked his hand away, coldly saying, "Enough. Get back to your room!"

Brielle sat on the floor, attempting to speak again.

Heath gave her no opportunity, turning abruptly and striding toward his study.

His attitude was entirely predictable.

As head of the Whitaker family, Heath had always been the family's standard-bearer.

He managed the household effectively and maintained the company's prestigious reputation.

Before Brielle's return to the Whitaker family and the engagement party scandal, Heath had been without blemish or cause for gossip.

Now overnight, the Whitaker family had become a laughingstock. Heath was undoubtedly feeling humiliated and embarrassed.

His cold attitude toward Brielle was perfectly understandable.

Soon, Brielle picked herself up and returned to her room.

I continued downstairs for water.

On my way back, I heard faint sounds from the next room.

Brielle was likely on the phone with Mitchell.

"Mitchell, she blocked you because she's in shock—it's not something a simple apology can fix."

"You need to comfort her properly and get her to marry you quickly. That way, Daddy will be easier to handle."

Holding my glass of water, listening to her clumsy scheming, I nearly laughed out loud.

Deeply in love with Mitchell?

That had been in my past life. In this one, he was not even worthy of holding my shoes.

I returned to my room, closed the door, and went to sleep.

The next morning.

I had barely descended the stairs when I heard Heath's furious roar.

"How much did it drop? How could it fall so drastically? What is the PR department doing? Get them to fix this immediately!"

I sauntered downstairs to find Heath, face ashen, slamming down the phone before unleashing another tirade on Brielle, who cowered in the corner of the sofa.

"Look what you've done! You've completely humiliated me! The entire industry is laughing at us, and the company stock is plummeting! Are you satisfied now?"

Brielle trembled uncontrollably, too frightened to even cry audibly.

Amara stood nearby, anxious but too intimidated to intervene, the atmosphere oppressively tense.

I had no intention of interfering. After all, what were Brielle and Amara's current predicaments compared to what they had done to me in my previous life?

Still, the falling stock prices weren't in my interest either. I planned to reclaim everything myself and leave Brielle with nothing.

I approached Heath and gently advised, "Dad, please don't get upset. It's not worth damaging your health. I'll go to the office today and help you resolve this."

Heath paused, looking at me.

Meeting his gaze confidently, I said, "After such an incident, hiding at home only invites contempt. I have nothing to be ashamed of—I'm innocent. Helping you at the office is better than staying home overthinking and brooding."

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Amara's lips twitch slightly.

This mother-daughter duo often used such passive-aggressive remarks to subtly belittle me.

Now it was my turn to let them experience that feeling.

Heath looked at me, his expression a mixture of sympathy and resignation.

He nodded, his voice softening, "Seraphine, you're right. If you don't want to stay home, go to the office and see what you can do to help."

With that, Heath shot another glare at Amara and Brielle.

"This is the kind of spirit a Whitaker should have—facing challenges head-on rather than hiding away to cry!"

"Thank you, Dad." Ignoring the two women, I left directly.

Rather than using the family driver, I hailed a cab outside to avoid reporters spotting a Whitaker car and bombarding me with questions at the company entrance.

After giving the company address, I leaned back in my seat to rest.

Shortly after we pulled away, something felt off.

The faint fragrance in the air grew increasingly potent.

My body began to weaken, my mind foggy, and an inexplicable heat rose from my abdomen.

This wasn't a normal physical reaction!

I snapped my eyes open and looked at the driver.

In the rearview mirror, I met a pair of familiar, sinister eyes.

It was Mitchell!

Seeing me awaken through the mirror, Mitchell's face broke into a smile.

"Seraphine, you're awake. Don't be afraid—I'm just taking you somewhere."

"Mitchell, what exactly are you trying to do?" I demanded sharply, attempting to open the door.

The door wouldn't budge—it was locked tight.

My body grew increasingly weak, covered in cold sweat as if feverish.

"What am I trying to do? Seraphine, we're going to get our marriage license. Once we're legally married, we can be together forever!"

Mitchell smiled at me through the mirror, "Seraphine, I love you. Believe me, everything I'm doing is because I love you too much. Just follow my plan!"

"You're shameless!" I trembled with anger, desperately trying to focus.

"Stop the car, or I'm calling the police right now!"

"Call the police? Once we're married, you'll be my wife. No one interferes in matters between husband and wife."

As he spoke, Mitchell suddenly jerked the steering wheel.

The car ran straight through a red light, accelerating rapidly.

I gasped in terror as I saw we were about to crash into a Rolls-Royce driving normally from the side, at a speed too great to avoid collision.

"Mitchell! Watch out!"

Mitchell's expression froze.

The cars collided.

The vehicle shook violently.

I lurched forward, my forehead hitting the back of the front seat, causing momentary dizziness.

Mitchell also unexpectedly struck the windshield and was now rubbing his forehead, grimacing in pain.

Disregarding everything else, I used my last ounce of strength to unlock the door.

At that moment, a figure emerged from the Rolls-Royce.

The door opened.

I looked up to see Octavius and froze, feeling an inexplicable sense of relief wash over me.

"Mr. Capulet."

Somehow, my voice came out trembling and choked, tinged with vulnerability and dependence.

Octavius was clearly surprised to see me. His gaze lingered on my face for a moment before his eyes darkened, and he strode toward me with purposeful steps.