"Madam," he said hesitantly, eyes avoiding mine, "Sir asked me to tell you he'll pick up your mother first. He said you should wait for him at the banquet."
His voice trembled slightly. I could guess why.
Without pressing him, I simply got into the car.
As we drove, my phone buzzed with a new message.
It was from Patricia.
In the photo, she was wearing a couture wedding gown, nestled in Weston's arms, her smile radiant.
[Sister, we're choosing our wedding dress. Can you help us decide which one looks better?]
Her arrogance was naked with every words.
I smiled faintly and typed a single word.
[Congratulations.]
The congratulations aren't real.
Because what they don't know is that my revenge will be revealed at Mom's dinner party tomorrow, and they will be plunged into despair.
After I sent the message, I pulled out my SIM card and tossed it out the window.
At the next intersection, I calmly told the driver, "I have something to take care of first. Bring the gift boxes in the trunk to the banquet."
"Make sure they open them in front of everyone," I added.
Without waiting for his response, I opened the door and stepped out.
A black Rolls-Royce was already waiting around the corner.
As soon as I got in, the engine roared to life and the car pulled away from the curb.
As we drove away, I didn’t look back. I clenched my fists tightly as that hate rose up again.
One day, I would make them regret all they did to me.
